Piece Us Together (Monstrous Survivors #3)

38. Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Maison

I can tell that Nolan and Hunter are struggling to believe that I’m going to quit. They’d peppered me with questions on the drive back to Hunter’s, asking why I changed my mind and when I plan to do it. They don’t like when I tell them I want to talk to Carter first. I don’t know how to explain to them why I need that. It’s not exactly the fact that I need his permission or approval first. Dr. Singh had helped me realize that not quitting isn’t me making things up to Carter, it’s me punishing myself. “You can make amends and rebuild a relationship without causing any harm to anyone, Maison. Don’t you want to stop hurting yourself? Don’t you think it’s time?”

I had thought of Hunter, hands on my face, telling me to hand the weight of the world over to him, telling me he’ll take it. “You must be so tired,” he’d said. “It’s time to rest now.” I want that so much it hurts to breathe if I think about it too long.

So, I’m going to do it either way. It’d just be a hell of a lot easier for me to forgive myself about it if Carter is okay with it.

Hunter and Nolan don’t like that answer very much. I can tell by the look they give each other that they think it still hinges on Carter’s approval. I can tell by the look they give each other that they don’t think Carter will give it.

I’ll just have to show them. Prove to them that I’m putting them first now. Putting the three of us first. It might be harder to believe some days than others, but I see it now, I see that I’ve earned safety and solace. I see that I’ve earned them. I see that I’ve earned a happy ending.

Still, it’s a conversation with Carter, and that alone has me struggling. It takes three days to be able to dial the number. What finally gets me to do it is overhearing Nolan asking Hunter in a shaky voice, “Do you think he’ll actually do it?” and Hunter, sounding unbelievably sad, saying, “God, I hope so, darling.”

The line rings a few times before Carter picks up. I try not to wonder if that’s because he hesitated before answering. It doesn’t matter.

“Maison. Hey.”

“Hey.”

There’s a beat of what’s possibly the most awkward silence in the history of the world. Then, “What’s up?”

I nearly laugh. Then I just say it, wanting to get the sting of rejection over with if that’s what happens. “There’s a holiday show tomorrow, a few towns over. They do it every year. There’re fireworks.” I close my eyes. “Would you want to come with me?”

“Just us?”

“Yeah.”

He hesitates, but not for long. “Okay.”

I feel like a teenager about to pick up his first date when I park outside of Carter and Travis’s and shoot him a text that I’m here. He darts out just seconds later, as if he hasn’t been dreading this. I try hard not to get my hopes up.

He’s bundled up in a blue coat that makes his eyes bright, with a matching hat and scarf in grays and whites. He has a twenty-dollar bill in his gloved hand. When I raise an eyebrow at it before putting the truck in drive, he rolls his eyes. “Trav gave it to me for snacks. He was having a daddy moment, apparently.”

“I can’t even begin to picture him as a daddy,” I admit, trying not to think about how weird it is to talk about kink with my little brother.

Carter snorts. “He’d last, like, five minutes tops.”

“Well, we’ll make sure to get some snacks, at least. Can’t ignore his five minutes of daddy-mode. Wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings.”

The joke doesn’t really land, Carter laughing awkwardly before we fall into a silence that’s uncomfortable within seconds.

He starts to fiddle with the radio, grumbling about all of the staticky channels. Nolan would be proud that he settles on a station playing Christmas music. It’s one of the sad songs, all longing and restrained hope. It feels fitting.

“How far away is this thing?” he asks.

“Just under twenty minutes.”

Silence again, apart from the sad Christmas music. He starts bouncing his knee anxiously. I get my own anxiety out by tapping my thumb against my left thigh, my right hand holding tight to the steering wheel.

“Roads are clear, at least,” he says a few minutes later.

I wince, realizing that not only are we resorting to awkward small talk, but that I’m making him carry it despite being the one who reached out to spend time together. I vow to do better. I end up with. “Supposed to snow again tomorrow.”

“Snows a lot up here.”

“Yeah.”

If he wasn’t able to see me, I’d smack my forehead at how stupid I feel.

“How’s your arm?”

“Oh.” My eyes fall to my covered arm for just a second before returning to the road. “It’s alright. Less painful, more just sore now. How’d you even know about it?”

“Travis told me right away.” And you didn’t call to check on me? I don’t let myself ask it. He probably doesn’t think I deserve—

“I wanted to call you, but he said you’d be pretty out of it, from the painkillers. I stopped by the house the next day, but you weren’t there. Bryce said you were busy? Then I knew about the party, so I waited. But I—I don’t know. I guess the chance to ask didn’t come up, really. I didn’t want to bother you.”

My chest warms, almost unbearably so. “You could never bother me, kid.”

“Are you forgetting the time I broke your brand new bike because I wanted to be like Tony Hawk?”

“Oh my god!” I put a hand up. “He doesn’t even bike! He skateboards , Carter!”

Carter laughs. A deep belly laugh that brings tears to my eyes. “I thought he biked!”

“Kid, you were so damn lucky you were cute.” I shake my head, but I’m grinning. “New bikes aside, though—never hold back from coming to me, okay? You’re my brother. I’m always here for you."

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He clears his throat. “You too, you know. You can come to me too.”

Can I?

My throat is too tight to respond. I just nod, hating myself for it.

The song switches. This one is happier.

We can see the town as we approach it, the downtown area lit up like a beacon. Carter gasps, pressing his face to the glass like he used to when we were kids and our mom would take us for drives to see all the neighborhood light displays. I can’t blame him. The decorations are gorgeous, somehow managing to be bright and colorful without being obnoxious. There’s a designated parking area, the streets of downtown cordoned off. It makes sense when a horse-drawn sleigh comes around the corner. Carter gasps again.

“Can we do that?” he asks.

“I don’t know. We’ll have to ask someone.” I park the car and nudge him with my elbow. He looks at me, wide-eyed and grinning. It soothes something in me. “Ready?”

“Yes!”

We climb out and head into the downtown area. There are vendor tents set up, selling holiday crafts, homemade apparel, decorations, and food and drinks. With a fond roll of his eyes, he points out a booth selling hot chocolate and cookies. “We should get some with our daddy-Travis money.”

“Oh, for sure.” Once we’ve made it through the line and have paid with Travis’s money, I have Carter pose for a picture with his drink and bag of cookies and send it to Travis with a cheeky message about proving he did as told. Travis sends back one telling me to let him know he’s a good boy. I show it to Carter as I fake a gag, making him laugh even as his cheeks flush. I can’t help but look at him for a minute then, wondering if that’s a little like what I look like when I blush for Hunter. I blush thinking about it.

“Uh—let’s check out some other booths. I should get Nolan some decorations.”

Carter grins. “Does he need anything else? The house is pretty decorated already, isn’t it?”

That’s probably an understatement. He’s been so anxious lately that every time he goes home, he adds at least two more boxes of decorations. The house already has four trees. He’s with Matt and Max tonight while I do this, hitting a sale at Target with a goal to find everyone a stocking. I highly doubt stockings will be the only thing he brings home.

Not to mention all the decorations he’ll be getting for Hunter’s house. I may have been contributing to that decoration fest, though. I like seeing Nolan so happy. I like seeing the reactions when Hunter gets home every day. I like seeing the house as ours instead of his.

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Carter says, making me realize I’ve been too quiet. “He can decorate as much as he wants!”

“No, of course, I didn’t think you were being rude at all. I just—” I laugh nervously, realizing this is probably a good way to do one of the two things I need to do tonight—break the news about Hunter. “Nolan has another house to decorate, now. Not that the Big House being full of them would really stop him from adding more.”

It takes him a few steps before the words register. Then he stops short and turns, eyes narrowing on me. “Another house? Did you guys decide to move out?”

“Not…exactly.”

“Then what, exactly?”

“Uh—Hunter’s.” I feel my face going hot, but I force myself to maintain eye contact. “Hunter said Nolan could decorate his place. He’s—uh—he’s sort of whipped for Nolan. Couldn’t tell him no.”

Carter’s mouth opens. Closes. Opens. Closes. He shakes his head. Laughs. “Oh my god, I knew it.”

“Knew it?”

“He’s being Nolan’s dom, isn’t he? Since you don’t want to, or whatever? I got a dom vibe from him with Nolan at the party, but I thought maybe it was just Hunter being Hunter. He’s very dom-y, even when he’s not trying. But there have been hints and—yeah. Wow . He’s Nolan’s dom, isn’t he?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Is it full-time? Or like one day a week? Is it—sorry, you don’t have to answer this, but…is it sexual? Or is he just doing kink stuff with him?”

I laugh, but the sound feels heavy, catching in my throat. “It—well, it started out every Saturday, and sort of sexual, but not—you know, everything.”

“Only started out?”

“It—uh—it rapidly escalated.” I look around us, convinced people are listening and understanding exactly what kind of thing we’re talking about. “We wanted more. And then more. And then feelings sort of got mixed in and…yeah.”

“We?” he asks, his voice going squeaky high, his eyes wide and scandalized. “Oh my god—do you mean, are you—are the three of you together?”

I look anywhere but at him. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

“Tell me everything. From the start.” He pauses, then points a finger to a booth with not as many people. “Over there. Chop-chop.”

By the time the fireworks are about to start, we’ve acquired five bags of goods—only one of them for Carter. We’ve gotten second hot chocolates, voted in the snowman building contest, and found the perfect bench to sit on where one of the booth’s heaters wafts over us to keep us semi-warm, no buildings in the way of the sky. I’ve also caught him up—with very few sex-related details—to where things are currently, not including my issues we’re tackling with Dr. Singh. There’s a single barrier left between the relationship I have and the relationship I want, and that barrier is the fact that I still can’t bottom for Hunter regardless of how badly I want to. There are some things brothers just shouldn’t know.

Carter shakes his head, crossing his legs and leaning back when I finish. “This is crazy.”

“Crazy bad?”

“No! Not at all. I’m really happy for you. For all three of you. It’s awesome, Maison. Really.” He grins. “I think the craziest thing is that we now belong to the same kink-related friend group.”

My eyes widen as I realize he’s right. “Oh, man. I did not think about that.”

“We’re going to have to set some ground rules.”

“We will absolutely be setting ground rules,” I agree with a laugh.

“I really am happy for you, though.”

I soften, letting myself look at him for a moment. My baby brother, all grown up. He’s put his previous weight back on. There aren’t circles under his eyes anymore, and they’re bright and happy, no ghosts lingering in the shades of blue. “I’m really happy for you too, kid.”

“I—” He pauses, his eyebrows pulling in. Then he carefully sets his hot chocolate down between his legs on the bench and pulls his gloves off. I don’t understand—until I do. There’s a thin rose gold band around his left ring finger, the metal twisting into a knot with little diamonds settled inside and around it. I grin like an idiot. When he lifts his eyes and sees that, he freezes. “You’re—you’re okay with it?”

“I gave him permission, you goof. I mean, he totally cheated and asked when I was high on painkillers, but I would have said yes either way. I did make him promise to love you for always, though. If he breaks that, I’ll kick his ass.” I nudge him playfully when he continues to just look at me, his eyes watery and his bottom lip wobbling. “Hey, kid. It’s alright. I’m so fucking happy for the both of you. I honestly don’t think I could pick a better man to take care of you for the rest of your life.” I pause, then, “Well, maybe Hunter, but he’s mine, so you’re going to have to settle.”

He laughs, all sharp relief and incredulous happiness. A single tear falls down his cheek. “How about we agree that our guys are tied and go from there?”

“Sure. Sure. Whatever makes you happy, kiddo.” I pat his knee patronizingly. He sticks his tongue out, rolling his eyes. “Put your damn gloves back on before you get frostbite or some shit.”

He laughs again, softer this time. He gets resettled, hot chocolate in his hands, and rests his head on my shoulder. His sigh is gentle and happy, but it ends heavier. There isn’t really a way to explain how I know. It’s a feeling in my gut. A tug, like the ground is about to be pulled out from under me.

“He told me about your past,” he says. And there it is. “He had thought you just sort of…sat at a desk, until the end. It’s what I thought because it’s—well, it’s what he told me, you know? It wouldn’t have mattered at first anyway. I was so mad at you, Maison. So fucking mad. I guess it still doesn’t really matter because when I worked through all of that anger and came to some big realizations, you sitting at a desk until the end was still more than enough sacrifice. Just that one night at the compound was more than I ever wanted you to have to do, you know?”

I laugh dryly. “Trust me, I know.”

“Yeah, I guess you do…” He nestles in closer to me, his cold nose touching the side of my neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t know the whole story. The fact that you’ve been in danger for years, and I had no idea…”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not . And Casey told me you were struggling and I was confused because I hadn’t noticed, and he sort of—I mean, he was nice about it, but he sort of pointed out that there’s a lot I haven’t seen. I didn’t even know how much he had struggled, even back when we were roommates. I had no idea how bad it got for him for a while.”

“You were struggling too, Carter. You had to take care of yourself first.”

“No. No, you all managed to take care of each other, take care of me , and I didn’t return the favor.” He shakes his head, bumping against my shoulder. “Even if it was okay, once Travis and I worked things out and I was in a good place, I should have turned around and taken stock of everyone. I should have checked in with Casey. With you. I got my happy ending and I buried my head in it instead of helping everyone else find theirs. It was selfish. It was so selfish. I want you to know I’m really sorry for that.”

I struggle to swallow, my eyes stinging from the cold air. Definitely just the cold air.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. You have no idea how much I wish I could go back. Not to the compound, but to the safehouse. To that very first night. I wish I could get Casey settled and then wait out in the kitchen for you to get back. Not Trav, but you . I wish I could hug you so tight it hurts and thank you for saving us and check you over to make sure you’re safe and okay. At the very least, once Trav came to me in my room, I should have gone to find you.” He pauses, a pained sound filling the gap. “I can’t believe how badly I treated you. The stupid fucking fights we had. The things I said. The things I blamed you for. I’m so fucking sorry, Maison.”

“Carter—”

“No.” He pulls away, turning so he can look at me. His eyes are flooding again, ready to release tears any second. His voice is thick and trembling when he continues. “I coped by hurting you. By blaming you. It wasn’t right or fair or okay. I’m sorry , Maison. I’m sorry for how I treated you and I’m sorry it took me so long to see it and I’m sorry it took me even longer to tell you. It should have been me who called you to do something like this. It should have been me trying to fix us.”

I turn out to be the one to cry first, a hot tear slipping down my cheek. His chin wobbles at the sight before his own tears start falling.

“I can’t fix it. I can’t go back. But I can be better, going forward. I want to be better,” he tells me.

“We’ll both be,” I promise him, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and pulling him into my side. I rest my head on top of his. “We’ll be okay, kid. We’ll figure this out.”

“I want to be your brother again. Like we used to be,” he admits, his voice coming close to a sob. “Is it too late for that?”

“It’s never too late for that, baby brother.”

He sobs then, burying his face in my jacket to muffle the sounds. I hold him tight and force myself to cry quietly as people walk by and eye us like we’re freaks. To be fair, sobbing on a bench at a holiday festival probably is pretty fucking weird.

The fireworks start without warning, bright blue bursts of color in the sky. He nearly headbutts me in his haste to look. His eyes are wide with wonder, the reflected lights dancing in the watery surface of them. I watch him instead of the show, just like I did when we were kids.

It had always been so easy for Carter to see wonder in everything. To see the brightness. The beauty. Even as a little boy myself, I made it my mission to make the world beautiful for him. I never wanted that look—this one, right now—to fade. I never wanted his light to burn out.

The operation almost won, but he and I beat it in the end. He’s here, safe and bright as a fire. So am I.

“Carter?”

He tears his gaze away from the sky, grinning. “Yeah?”

“I wanna quit.”

The admission feels like a bomb, set down between us, just waiting to explode.

But it doesn’t.

His eyes soften, his smile warm but a little sad. “It’s about time. Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

The words catch in my chest, a hook into my heart that yanks until I can’t breathe.

This time it’s him holding me as I sob. He pets my hair and my back and tells me, “That one was blue!” and, “I love you,” and, “Oh, that one’s silver,” and, “Get it together, big brother, the grand finale is coming soon,” and, “I love you, you know?” and, “I think she’d be proud of you. Mom. She’d be so proud.”

I tell him, “She’d be proud of you too.”

We both end up missing the finale. It doesn’t matter. There will be other shows. Years of them. And we’ll watch them together as brothers.

It’s simple, in the end. Quitting. Without being locked into an operation or post-operation clean-up, it’s really just giving Keats the heads up that I don’t want him considering me for missions anymore. He’s not in town, gone to wherever the hell it is he goes between visiting us and working missions. I call him.

I’m still in the car, the vents pumping hot air. I can do that. I can make this call while warm, not needing the needle-sharp winter air to punish me. I’ve been getting better at that. At recognizing when something doesn’t need to be as hard or as painful as my default assumption.

I don’t realize how late it is until Keats answers with an almost panicked, “What? What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Woah. Hey. Nothing is wrong. I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

“At three in the fucking morning?”

“Uh. Yes?”

He sighs heavily. “You know, I want to complain some more, but the longer we talk the less likely I’ll be able to fall back asleep, so let’s skip ahead to what you want to talk about.”

“Fair enough.” I glance out the window. My headlights are cast over the pathetic snowman we all tried to build yesterday. We only managed to make his base and a very lopsided stomach. Then Hunter had said, “As much as I love this, we could go inside and make some hot chocolate and warm each other up naked on the rug in front of the fireplace.” Nolan had nearly knocked the snowman down in his haste to get inside first.

I close my eyes. I see us tangled in three blankets and multiple limbs, Hunter’s head on my thigh, Nolan’s head on my chest, as I watch the flames dance. It always seems to come back to fires, with me and Nolan. The first place we found safety. The place we figured out our safety was in each other.

“I want to quit.”

“Quit?”

“Yeah. The missions or whatever. That life, I guess. I need to be done, Keats. I—I want to be done.”

“Sure. Yeah, man. Alright. You don’t need my permission for that. I’m not your boss anymore.”

I frown. “You were never my boss.”

“Exactly.”

Exactly? I shake my head. He must still be half-asleep. Hopefully he at least remembers this in the morning so I don’t have to repeat it all.

“I won’t bring up missions anymore. I won’t even tempt you when I have one by sharing details. You want out, you’ve got it, man. I’m happy for you. Really. You deserve to put the guns down. You deserve to rest, Maison.”

My eyes water. I have a hard time swallowing, my throat aching even after I finally manage to. “Thanks, Keats.”

I hang up and take a deep breath. It feels cleansing. Monumental. It feels like my life shifts into place, into where it belongs. My body, however, belongs in the warm bed where Nolan and Hunter are waiting for me. I turn the car off and head inside.

I’m back in my childhood home. It’s always this home, with its blue walls and big windows that let in sunlight during the day and horrors at night. The wood floor creaks.

The only light is coming from outside. There’s a spotlight, coming down from the sky like a helicopter is up there doing a missing person’s search. In the center of the spotlight is Carter. He’s tied to a St. Andrew’s Cross. Nolan is at his feet, body crumpled and unmoving.

I break my knuckles first, knocking them on the window, trying to get the attention of the monsters outside. Blood drips from them. I just switch to hitting the sides of my hands against it instead. People start to look over as those bones shatter. They don’t stop, though. They just grin at me. Laugh at me. Move around so I can see the show better.

I use my shoulders against the door. My feet. My hips. I slam my whole body against it, over and over, but the only thing that breaks is me.

I keep breaking.

All I can do is break.

I stumble back to the window, unable to stop myself from watching. I find the brothers there—Aaron and Alex. They’re standing shoulder to shoulder, watching the show on the lawn.

“Why aren’t you out there?” Aaron asks without looking at me.

“I can’t get out.”

“Don’t you love them?” Alex asks.

I yell, “I can’t get out!”

They don’t care. They disappear.

“I can’t get out,” I tell the empty air. “I can’t get out, I can’t get out, I’m sorry, I can’t get out.”

“Maison?” someone asks, voice soft. “Hey, woah, Maison. Sweetheart. Come here.”

I turn, frantic, terrified, and—and—and it’s—“Hunter?”

He smiles. God, it’s such a nice smile. All warm and happy and proud. I don’t deserve that smile. I don’t deserve him.

“I can’t get out,” I admit, hot tears of shame rolling down my cheeks. “I—I keep trying, but I can’t get out.”

“Shh.” He comes toward me, hands on my biceps. He moves them up and down. Soothing. Gentle. “You’re okay. Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

“Hunter,” I sob. I can’t believe he doesn’t understand. He’s supposed to understand, supposed to take care of us, supposed to keep me from ruining it. What would ruin things more than me not fucking saving the man we love and my little brother?

I grasp desperately at the front of his shirt. He chuckles, still warm, and pulls me into his arms. He kisses the top of my head and runs his hand up and down my back and says, “I’ve got you, kitten. I’ve got you. Shh.”

“Nolan—he—Nolan and Carter are—they’re—I can’t get to them. I can’t get to them and they’re—they’re going to—they’re hurting them, they’re hurting them, Hunter, please, you have to—you have to help me.”

“Maison. Hey. Maison.” He pulls back, cupping my face in his hands. He presses his forehead to mine. “Take a breath, sweetheart. Breathe. You’re fine. They’re fine.”

“They’re not!”

“Maison—”

“I have to save them!”

“Maison, look—hey, sweetheart, look.” He turns my face, forcing me to look at the window again. I tense up in anticipation. It’s bright out there, but not from a floodlight. It’s sunlight, a warm glow cast over the bright green of the lawn. There are flowers growing around the edges. Daffodils, I think. Carter isn’t on a St. Andrew’s Cross, he’s on Travis’s shoulders, arms spread in the air in a V shape as he whoops. Nolan is at Travis’s feet, sprawled in the grass with a pair of sunglasses on and a cookbook—the one I bought him—in his hands. Matt is using his stomach as a headrest while messing around on his tablet.

They’re…fine.

They’re perfectly fine.

No blood or tears or injuries. No monsters. No danger. It’s just sunlight and daffodils and laughter.

“They’re safe.”

“Yes,” Hunter agrees. “You saved them, remember?”

I put a hand on the window. It’s not broken anymore. None of me is. I’m whole, all of my cracks filled right up, a work of art, a survivor.

“Let me show you.” He puts a hand on the small of my back, then places his hand on the glass beside my own. It disappears the moment his skin makes contact. He steps out, guiding me to step with him.

Travis turns, Carter grinning when he sees me. “Maison!”

Nolan sits up at the sound of my name. Matt squawks, unimpressed that Nolan’s movement sent him nearly flat on his face. Nolan doesn’t care. He’s already running toward us, eyes bright, smile big.

“Babe!” He throws himself at me. I catch him, spinning him around as my chest warms. Hunter is chuckling. He grabs us, stopping my momentum, and wraps his arms around both of us. “Hi, sir.”

“Hey, darling.” Hunter kisses Nolan’s cheek, then mine. He frowns when he looks at me. “Oh, sweetheart. You don’t think this is real, do you?”

“What if it’s not?” I whisper. “What if it’s not over?”

He just smiles. “Wake up.”