Piece Us Together (Monstrous Survivors #3)

25. Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five

Nolan

The battery on Matt’s new tablet is dead by the time I’ve finished telling him everything and answering his many questions regarding all of it. The voice he’d been using today was a pompous English dude that reminded me a little too much of JARVIS from the Iron Man movies. I was sort of glad to not have to listen to it any longer, even if it sucked seeing Matt so frustrated when he lost the ability to so easily speak his mind.

His hands had shook as he’d practically scraped words onto the back of some junk mail nearby to continue his questioning. Thankfully, he started losing steam soon after, starting to mostly rely on his facial expressions and three signs— Idiot and Sorry and Okay . The idiot was usually used for Maison, at least, though I got one when I told him it felt like everything was my fault for wanting things I shouldn’t.

I have the junk mail in my lap, nearly every inch of it covered in words. The last corner holds the words he wrote down in big, angry letters after he’d used the idiot sign on me: WANTING TO BE HAPPY ISN’T WRONG. I trace the words with my finger as Matt runs his fingers through my hair where my head rests on his stomach. I’m trying not to look at my phone. Hunter stopped calling and texting after we spoke, leaving the door open for me to reach out without bothering me. Maison hasn’t answered anything I’ve sent him. He hasn’t returned a single call. The last time I looked at the time on it, it had been three hours and seventeen minutes since I woke from my nap.

Wanting to be happy isn’t wrong.

It isn’t, but the problem is that I was happy with Maison. I just got greedy. I asked for more than I needed.

I exhale and check my phone.

Three hours and nineteen minutes.

Still nothing from Maison.

Matt taps my forearm twice, his way of checking in. I sigh. “Nothing yet. He’s probably drunk somewhere…”

He makes a sound that’s not quite an agreement, but not a denial either. He knows there’s a good chance that I’m right. I hate that. I hate the thought of Maison out there somewhere, probably hurting himself, so much more.

Stud Muffin decides to deign us with his presence, hopping right from the floor to my stomach and giving me a dirty look when I grunt from the impact. I glare at him. “You’re not helping, sir.”

He blinks at me before suddenly deflating, his giant floof of a body seeming to melt into a puddle.

Matt’s stomach bounces beneath my head. I don’t have to turn and look to know the asshole is laughing at me.

Before I can say something quippy—to either of them—my phone vibrates.

There’s a brief moment of chaos where too many limbs, a phone, and plumes of fur go flying through the air. We all end up landing on our feet, but Stud Muffin is downright pissed, letting loose an angry yowl that has us flinching back before sticking his tail up in the air to show us his asshole and sauntering away—most likely to go tell on us to Bryce.

Matt grabs my phone from the floor and hurriedly pushes it into my hands.

For a single moment, my heart drops when I see it’s a text from Hunter instead of Maison.

Then I read the words.

Hunter: Can you come over? Maison is here. He needs both of us.

Before I can type a response fast enough with my shaking hands, another message follows.

Hunter: Let yourself in. We’re in the usual room.

Matt makes an anxious sound, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He hits me rapidly on the shoulder. Then makes the sound again. I look up, only halfway through my text to Hunter still. The very second he has my attention, he’s signing.

“Woah. Stop. Slow down.” I shake my head. “Way slower.”

The anxious sound again before he slowly signs, what does that mean? Is it a sex thing? Why are they in the usual room? Is that the sex room?

I huff. “I—yeah. That’s the sex room, I guess. And where we sleep. I don’t think it’s going to be a sex thing, though. They don’t do that together, remember?”

He gives me a look that makes it clear he thinks I’m an idiot. On the off-chance it wasn’t clear, he also signs, idiot .

“Okay, your thoughts on Maison’s definite denial—and my probable obliviousness—are duly noted. I highly doubt this , whatever happened tonight , is a sex thing. There’s no way. Not with the fight and the way Maison was today and not without me there. I won’t know what’s going on until I get there, though. Which means you need to let me go.”

He steps away and gestures quickly at the door as if to ask, what the fuck are you waiting for, then?

I sigh heavily, shaking my head at him. Then shaking my head at Stud Muffin, who I find squatting on my shoes as if the cranky fucker knew I’d want them and was desperate to inconvenience me.

“Off,” I tell him with a shooing hand. “Come on, dude. Off.”

He spreads his legs and starts licking his junk right over my left boot.

I squat down in front of him until we’re eye to eye. He pauses his licking, which I appreciate. “Listen. I will make tuna for dinner tomorrow and I will give you so much of it, you’ll be sick of the stuff. But you have to move.”

“Are you bargaining with my cat right now?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” I sigh as I push to my feet and turn to glare at Bryce. “He won’t let me leave.”

“He’s a cat.”

“Bryce, I don’t know if you know this, but that thing is a demon. A fat, cranky demon with sharp claws and teeth that hurt like a bitch.”

Bryce puts a hand over his chest. I swear if he was wearing pearls, he’d clutch them. “Stud Muffin is a fucking delight. If he attacks, it’s because he’s provoked.”

“He’s on my boots.”

“How is he supposed to know he can’t be there? He’s a cat , Nol.”

I narrow my eyes on him. “Well, I can’t tell him to get off because—as you said—he’s a cat. I can’t pick him up because—as I said—claws and teeth. So, yes, I resorted to bribing.”

“Bribing with tuna you don’t actually have.”

“Yes.”

“If he’s a cat who doesn’t understand he can’t be on your boots, how is he going to understand the concept of tuna?”

I take a deep breath, reminding myself that I love this man. “Bryce, I really have to go. Please.”

He eyes me before looking at Stud Muffin and tilting his head. “Come on, loser. Let’s go cuddle.”

And Stud Muffin just fucking— listens . He gets off my stupid boots and starts walking away, Bryce by his side.

I glare at both of them.

I want very badly to ask how the fuck Bryce just did that, but then I remember my priorities and hurry to get my boots on before any other cats can take them over.

There’s no visible sign of them when I let myself into Hunter’s house as he said. Well, apart from Maison’s boots and a pile of weapons on the entryway table. I stare at the dismantled gun for a moment. It’s Maison’s favorite. The one he brings everywhere. The one I’m fairly certain he would have likely pointed at Hunter that infamous night they first met.

I find them in the room, Maison curled against Hunter’s chest with his face tucked into Hunter’s throat. The sight unravels me until I’m a trembling mess with tears falling down my cheeks. Hunter smiles, soft and sad, understanding, and reaches his free hand out to me. I scramble to get to it, shedding my hat and jacket as I do. Maison adjusts when he feels the bed dip, red-rimmed blue eyes focusing on me. It’s startling to see all of the pain and fear and exhaustion in them. He’s not trying to hide any of it. There isn’t a single wall of protection left in place. What the fuck happened tonight?

I let Hunter move me where he wants, noticing that Maison is allowing him to do the same. He stops when he has us curled into each other, foreheads pressed together, bent legs overlapping, with Maison pressed against Hunter’s right side and me pressed along his center. He pulls a blanket over the three of us, enveloping our little unit.

“That’s better,” Hunter murmurs, his whole body relaxing. “That’s so much better.”

I can’t help it then. I admit the truth, my voice sounding as strangled as my throat feels. “I didn’t know where you were. I was so scared.”

Maison’s chin wobbles before he bites down on his bottom lip and closes his eyes. His body shudders with a swallowed sob, fresh tears soaking into his lashes.

“Hey, he’s okay. We’re all okay now.” Hunter turns his chin to press a kiss to my hair, then a kiss to Maison’s. My head is an awful mess, but I trust Hunter. I trust him enough to not ask a million questions right now. To not push the issue. This is fragile. This, whatever this is, feels like it could be something very good, if handled right. I don’t want to be the one to break it.

We lie together for a long time. Sometimes Maison starts to shake, his chest heaving like he’s struggling to breathe, but every time he does I press in closer and Hunter kisses his head and whispers, “I’ve got you. We’ve got you. Shhh,” and he calms. Sometimes the questions feel like livewires inside my mind, making me itch with a need to know what the fuck is going on, but then Hunter gives me a soft smile and nods like he knows and I close my eyes and just soak in the feeling that we’re safe. That whatever happened, whatever is going to happen, the two men I love and I are all safe.

At some point, Hunter releases a slow breath and says, “The two of you need to talk.”

Maison immediately tenses. “Can’t the three of us talk?”

“No, Maison.” Hunter shifts, forcing us to sit up on either side of him. He gives us a pinched smile, his eyes tight. It has my earlier worry returning with a vengeance, my chest suddenly so heavy, it hurts to breathe. “I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready to share with me what you’ve decided, but this is for the two of you to discuss together. If that takes longer than just one conversation, that’s okay. Take your time. Sleep over if you need to. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I’m here.”

I fight the urge to ask questions, pretty sure Hunter would just say I need to ask Maison them anyway. Maison doesn’t look entirely pleased to be the one with that responsibility. He won’t meet my eyes, even after Hunter has left the room, the door shut behind him. I give him a few seconds before I can’t wait anymore. “What happened?”

“I was stupid.” He rubs at the back of his neck, eyes fixed on the wall to my left. “I got drunk and—well, I had a lot to figure out, you know? A lot of fucking soul searching or whatever. I think I was trying to talk myself into ending all of this. I just—I ruin everything, you know? And adding Hunter—he’s just one more person to let down, one more relationship I can ruin, one more way I can fuck up, and I—”

“Hey,” I grab his chin, forcing him to look at me. His eyes are glossy, like he wants to cry but his body has run out of supply. I inch closer to him until I’m practically in his lap, legs on each side of him. “I hate when you talk like that. You don’t ruin things. You don’t let people down.”

He huffs. I think the sound is meant to be angry, but it sounds too sad, too defeated. “Ask my brother what he thinks of that.”

“You saved his life.”

“After I got him in the situation in the first place.”

“You know, I don’t know if I buy that. He was spotted by low-end sellers, isn’t that the story? He talked about it once, in group therapy. It’s why the man who got him and Casey sold him in the first place. He wasn’t even looking for Carter and he didn’t want the heat of you and your team. He was glad he stumbled on that hidden gem because he was going to make a fortune, but that’s it. Right?”

His jaw ticks. “Basically, yes.”

“So, what if those men had liked the look of Carter anyway? Because they were looking, weren’t they? To have recognized him from the bulletin that went out? What if you’d been a normal man and those men had been on that campus and they had decided they wanted Carter? What then, Maison? Who would have saved him then?”

“That’s a hell of a lot of what-ifs. Those guys weren’t there hunting for victims.”

“I love you, Mais. I really do. But your brother is almost ridiculously beautiful. He’s got the whole thin and pale with big blue eyes and black messy hair and pink lips thing going for him. I’d bet my life that there was at least a fifty percent chance those guys wouldn’t have walked away after spotting him. Maybe they’d have just taken him for themselves for a night or for good. Maybe they’d have given him to the man they worked for. Who the hell knows?”

“Well, there’s a one hundred percent chance he was at that auction and brought into that horrific world because of me.”

“One hundred percent chance he was saved because of you, too.”

“Nol…”

“Me too, you know.” I give him a tight smile when he frowns at that. “If it wasn’t for your operation, I wouldn’t have been saved. I’d still be a slave. Or I’d be dead.”

He shakes his head. “That has nothing to do with Carter.”

“I didn’t say anything about Carter. I said it about the operation.”

“They would have found someone else to run it, if I had turned it down.”

“Maybe. Maybe that person would have been good at it. Or maybe they would have fucked it up and gotten the operation blown, gotten Travis and Jake killed, lost the chance of saving the thousands of slaves you’ve already saved. Lost the chance of saving me. We’ll never know.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I try not to flinch, but I must not be able to contain it completely because his expression shifts into panic. “Wait, no, of course it matters—of course saving you, saving them, saving all of— of course it matters, baby, I didn’t mean that. I just—it doesn’t matter when it comes to Carter. That’s ruined. Me and him. It’s ruined.”

“If it’s ruined, it’s on the both of you.” He tries to look away, but I stop him with a hand on his chin again. “You don’t ruin things. Okay? You make things better. You save people. You protect and you care and you love so much you end up hurting yourself. Hunter and I are so fucking lucky to have that. To have you . And I’m not going to let you talk yourself out of that, okay?”

He ducks his head against my neck, breathing me in with a shaky inhale as his arms wind around my back. “Promise?”

“Promise.” I run my hands through his hair, hating what I have to ask next but knowing I need to. “Do you want him? Do you want the three of us?”

His arms tighten around me, his voice hoarse and soft as he finally admits the truth. “Yes, Nol. I’m—I’m in love with him.”

I can’t help the sigh of relief that slips out at the confirmation. I don’t think I even realized just how badly I wanted that—wanted the three of us—until now, until I have permission to hope for it. It almost hurts, how good it feels. Like the final piece of a puzzle snapping into place. It’s a stinging relief. A good kind of ache.

There are a million things to ask now. A million things to figure out. I start with the most important thing, though. The third piece of us. Hunter . “Does he know?”

“Think he has a good idea.” He pulls his head back, his laugh watery as he meets my eyes. “I—well, I came here ready to tell him, then saw his friend, Wells, and his sub, Jax, here and assumed he’d either moved on or he was fucking around the whole time we were doing our thing with him.”

I wince. “Shit. How bad was that?”

“I may have threatened people. May have done some yelling. Crying.” He smiles, all wry and charming. It’s not him brushing it off, though. It’s him feeling comfortable about how it all turned out. I have the strongest feeling that’s because Hunter handled the situation. I wish I could have seen that. I wonder how far Maison let him push. I wonder how much farther he’ll allow, moving forward. “I tried telling him I didn’t care. Telling him I don’t want anything to do with him. Which, looking back now, was really just a terrible fucking attempt at a lie. I mean, I was literally crying on his floor.”

My heart tugs at the thought of him doing that, me not here to help him through it. “I wish you’d told me you were coming.”

“I didn’t know, until—” He stops, shaking his head. “I didn’t know I was coming.”

“Until what? What changed?”

His lips twist in a rueful smirk. “I talked to someone. An old buddy of mine. I think it helped, talking to someone not connected to any of this. Someone I could just lay everything out to and get a perspective on it all. Plus, he’s not one to sugarcoat. He sort of told me to get my shit together, which was fair.”

I try not to smile, but I think he sees through me.

Then he adds, “I’m glad I was by myself, though. This—it felt like something that I had to do alone, you know?”

“I don’t,” I say honestly, trying not to be hurt by that. I tilt my head, eyebrows pulling in. “Can you try to explain it? I’m not mad, I just—I don’t know why you felt like that…”

“I guess—” He pauses, seeming to search for the right words. I have to fight a smile at how adorable he looks with his face all concentrated like that. I don’t manage to fight the urge to press my thumb to his furrowed brows, though, swiping across until he softens them. He kisses the inside of my wrist and we both smile. He’s still smiling when he starts talking again. “Since the beginning, Hunter has been your thing. In my head, at least. I sought him out because he was a dom and you needed a dom. Because I needed to find a dom I trust with you and he was the closest thing. When I approached him in the store, when I met him at the bar to talk, whenever I came to the house—it was all about you and how we could work together to give you what you need. Even lately, as things changed, our interactions still revolved around you. And I’m not complaining about that. I’m not—it’s not a bad thing, not at all. And I know there was room to change it, room you both made clear was open. But when I safeworded and dragged you out of here that night, I was Maison, your boyfriend. Just your boyfriend. But tonight, when I came here, even when I was upset—I came here as me… for me. To apologize for my behavior and to tell him how I feel and to tell him that I want him, want what he offered me before, want the three of us together. Was that—does that make sense?”

I smile. “Yeah. Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.”

“I have no fucking idea how the three of us will even work,” he admits.

“I bet we can figure it out.”

“I bet we can.” He chuckles. “Or if we can’t, I bet Hunter will handle it.”

“See? Kind of nice, having a dom to lean on, isn’t it?”

I wait for him to roll his eyes or make a comment about how Hunter isn’t his dom or he isn’t a sub.

He doesn’t.

“Yeah. You know what? It kind of fucking is.”

Oh.

Well, okay then.

He apparently decided to come to all the realizations today.

Hale-fucking-lujah.

“Nol?”

“Yeah?”

He ducks his chin a little, but still looks up at me through his lashes. “I kissed him.”

I can’t help but just blink at him for a moment. And maybe blink for the moment after that. “You…”

His expression crumples. “Fuck—is that—that’s not okay, is it? Fuck, I didn’t think—I thought because you never set that as a limit and he just was there and he was being all Hunter-y and I just couldn’t help it and I’m sorry, baby, fuck, I’m—”

“Can I see?” I ask, cutting his worried rambling off.

“See…?” he asks, looking confused and a little scared.

“I want to see you kiss him.” I grab his cheeks, forcing him to look into my eyes. I grin. “I want to see it right fucking now.”

His eyes flash with heat, all worry burning away. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I press my mouth against his. The kiss is slow. Soft. It’s a flurry of promises kept and promises made.

He smiles first, messing our lips up. I laugh softly as I wind up kissing teeth.

“I’ll show you,” he says when I pull away. His cheeks are flushed, the blue of his eyes bright. “But then you have to show me.”

I grin. “Gladly.”