Piece Us Together (Monstrous Survivors #3)

Epilogue

Maison

Dr. Singh gives me a goal for the week: Be Selfish.

“It’s a stupid fucking goal. Especially for the week of Christmas. Who is selfish at Christmas time? That’s just downright rude. Who does he want me to be, Scrooge? Should I walk around with a frown on my face and mumble bah humbug? What even is that, bah humbug? Is that like a made-up phrase just for Scrooge? Is he that big of a dick, he coined his own angry Christmas phrase? What am I supposed to do, pout whenever I don’t want to do something this week? It’s ridiculous.”

I look up to find Hunter with his elbow on the breakfast bar, his chin resting on his fisted hand. He’s smirking. It’s not sexy. I refuse to allow it to be. I am embracing the Scrooge-vibe and Scrooge doesn’t get turned on by smirks.

Though if Hunter Meridian smirked at him, I bet he’d change his tune…

“What?” I ask in as cranky of a voice I can manage. It’s pathetic. I am losing my touch. This man is clearly ruining me.

His smirk widens. “I just love you.”

Goddammit.

See what I’m working with here?

“I hate you,” I say in response, but it’s very pouty and grumbly and from the way his smirk stretches into a grin, I know he doesn’t believe it. Of course he doesn’t. Still, it bothers me to have the lie sitting out there. The untruth of it is too much. I make sure I sound just as grumbly though as I say, “I love you, too...”

“Would you like to tell me what exactly you and Dr. Singh talked about tonight?”

I shrug, letting my eyes fall to the Christmas cookie I’ve accidentally added far too much icing to. Nolan is going to be home any minute now and is totally going to give me shit for that. He’s going to make me eat the plain cookies if we run out of icing.

“Maison, he would not tell you to be selfish this week in particular if there aren’t things you’re worrying about related to this week.”

I scrape some of the frosting off the star cookie and add it to the stocking. Stockings can be yellow, right? Fuck it. This one is yellow.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on?” he asks, not sounding amused anymore. I look up just in time to see him stand and come around the island. I turn to face him as he brackets me with a hand beside each of my hips on the countertop. He tilts his head, his eyes scanning me. I feel stuck. Observed. It takes a lot for me not to run from it. Not to lash out. It helps when his eyes focus on mine and his hand finds my throat. It’s nothing more than a grounding touch, but it’s enough. “Whatever’s in that head of yours doesn’t belong to you. Give it to me.”

There’s no argument from that. It's undisputed. Inevitable. It's as easy as an exhale, looking into his eyes and whispering, “What if Carter wants to kneel at the party?”

“Ah.” He breathes heavily through his nose, nodding. “I somehow did not even consider that. That was smart of you to think ahead, Maison. That would be hard for you to see, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah. I don’t think - I can’t see that. Not yet. I’m not ready for him to be at Trav’s feet in front of me.”

“Then we tell them.”

I shake my head. “That’s not fair. You said your friends will have their subs kneeling and I already said Nolan can kneel for you. Carter should be able to kneel.”

“He’ll understand. You’re not saying he can’t ever kneel at these parties. You’re saying you’re just not ready for it this time around. We’ll practice, for the future. We’ll have them over for dinner and practice. We’ll figure it out. For tomorrow, you’re going to be selfish. Aren’t you?”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Hunter…”

“Aren't you?”

“I - yeah. Yes.”

“Good boy.” He leans into me, filling my senses with spicy cologne and the peppermint tea he was drinking. His lips are warm as they brush my cheek. “Do you need me to tell Travis?”

“I should do it…”

“Nope. No shoulds during selfish Maison week. I’ll tell him.”

“Okay…”

“What else?” he asks, and I realize I should have relaxed. I should have feigned relief. Now he knows there's more.

I try to turn away. He stops me with both the hand on my throat and his hips pressing forward to pin me in place. I keep my eyes firmly shut.

“What else?” he asks again.

I shake my head. “That’s all-”

“Oh, boy, don’t you dare lie to me,” he growls before I can even finish.

My throat feels like he’s squeezing it hard enough to break. He’s not squeezing, though. At all. It’s the inside that’s collapsing in on itself.

“ Maison .”

I try to breathe. It catches and scrapes in my chest. “I know it won’t ruin things, okay? I know. I trust you. But it makes me feel like fucking shit because you’re not going to be upset about it and then that almost makes it worse, you know? Just - be upset about it, when I tell you, okay? Just be mad at me. Be disappointed, at least. I deserve it.”

He tilts his head, eyebrows pulling together, not in confusion, but in understanding. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re not ready to meet my family, are you?”

I close my eyes. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine, Maison. Hey. Hey, look at me.” I feel his hands on my cheeks, his thumbs directing my chin. I give myself another second of hesitation before looking. He’s closer now, nearly close enough to press his forehead to mine. I lean into it until the contact is made. Then I sigh in relief. “That’s perfectly fine. There’s no rush. I don’t plan on letting either of you go. Not ever. There will be plenty of time to meet my fucking family, alright?”

“You’re supposed to be mad,” I whisper.

“Right. Mad or disappointed. Because that’s what you deserve.”

“Y-yeah.”

He smiles. “Funniest thing, though. You don’t get to decide that, do you? I’m the one in charge here.”

“You’re the worst…”

“Aren’t I?” He takes my chin between his fingers and thumb, guiding my lips to his smiling mouth. The kiss is slow. Sweet. Well, it is at first. Then he’s pressing his erection into me and tangling his fingers in my hair and his tongue slides between my lips.

We’re interrupted by a trainwreck crashing through the front door.

It’s the bags I see first. Just… so many bags. Then the blue hat with the bright white pom-pom on the top of it emerges.

“Don’t!” Nolan yells as we start toward him. He starts collecting the bags haphazardly, pulling them into his chest until they’re nearly spilling back onto the floor. “Close your eyes! I don’t need help!”

“Oh boy,” Hunter mumbles. He crosses his arms over his chest and closes his eyes. I smirk, closing mine too before I get in trouble. Hunter whispers, “I thought he was done.”

“I’m starting to think he won’t be done until Christmas morning.”

“I’m starting to think he won’t be done until the day after Christmas.”

“You’re right. You’re so right.”

“Oh, shut up,” Nolan grumbles before passing by us in a rustle of bags and tissue paper. “No one is invited to the guest room for the next… 40 minutes. Or so. I’ll open the door when I’m ready for visitors. Did you finish frosting the cookies?”

Hunter sighs. “Almost.”

“What are you waiting for? We have to be at the Big House in, like, two hours!”

“Nolan.” I open my eyes, giving him a pointed look. “It’s not our fault-”

“Eyes closed!” he squawks.

I put my hand up in surrender, eyes closing again. “Sorry, sorry. But it’s not our fault you just had to go last minute shopping.”

“I thought of the best idea and I just had to go get it!”

“It? Singular?” Hunter asks. I can’t see him, but I can hear he’s smirking. “Because it looks like you bought a whole lot more than that.”

I can’t see Nolan either, but I swear I can feel the power of his glare - and he’s definitely glaring. If there was any doubt, his tone makes it clear anyway. “If you two want any presents, you better shape up.”

Hunter laughs, low and dark. “Oh, darling. You’re the one that better shape up unless you’d like to go to the party with a red ass and a cage on your cock.”

I’m a terrible, cheating boyfriend. I peek through my eyelashes. Nolan is pale, his eyes wide as he stares at Hunter. He visibly gulps. “No! No, not necessary! I’m shaped up. All in shape. The shape-liest.”

Then, before either of us can answer, he’s scurrying off to the guest room.

Hunter and I exchange a look. It’s the only kind of look two men can exchange when they’re in love with a Christmas-obsessed goofball on Christmas Eve. We match the look with two huge smiles.

We’re only at the Big House for the Christmas Eve celebration for five minutes before my little brother chooses violence.

“Why is the sock yellow?” Carter asks, picking up one of the cookies from the plate I just unwrapped. He holds it between two fingers like it’s gross. “Is it supposed to be, like, a dirty sock? Santa’s dirty sock.”

I frown. Deeply. “It’s a stocking.”

“But like… is it?” he questions.

“Aren’t stockings supposed to be green or red or whatever?” Travis asks.

“Sometimes blue or silver,” Bryce adds. “I had a blue one with silver snowflakes when I was growing up.”

“There are yellow stockings,” I insist.

“Are there?” Carter asks, not sounding at all convinced.

“Yes!”

They all exchange looks. I find myself wishing Nolan and Hunter were here because they’d have my back. Then I realize there’s a good chance they wouldn’t. Those two assholes love making fun of me when the mood is safe for it. Despite how hard I’m trying to cling to the Scrooge-mood, I’m feeling too happy and settled tonight to get upset. So, they’d definitely not be on my side.

Which is fair, because I’m pretty fucking sure stockings really aren’t ever yellow.

Matt adds his two cents by turning his tablet to show us. He’s Googled it. There are tons of pictures across the screen, but they’re all of the same generic sort of stocking, like you can pick any color under the sun and the company will deliver it for 4 bucks. There are at least two gold ones in the sea of yellow.

“See? Yellow stockings.”

Bryce waves at the tablet like he’s shooing a fly. “Those are hideous. Get rid of them.”

“You know what? No cookies for any of you.” I snatch the cookie from Carter, breaking it in the process, and then grab the plate with the rest of them. I awkwardly wrap my arms around it. I end up with a little bit of frosting on my shirt, but sometimes you just have to sacrifice for your principles.

Of course, this is when the men I love enter the room, both stopping short at the sight of me holding a plate of cookies like a child hoarding his favorite toy. Hunter adjusts his stupid nerdy glasses as Nolan asks, “Is something wrong?”

“I was just pointing out that Christmas stockings can be yellow,” I grumble.

Hunter bites his lip, but it doesn’t help him contain his smirk. I glare at him and his stupid smirk. When Nolan says, “I mean… it’s a unique decision, but I respect it,” I turn my glare on him. He pats me. Pats me. On the head. Like a toddler.

“It tastes great,” Carter says around a mouthful. “Yellow stockings are delicious.”

I put a hand out as if he’s proven my point. “See? Thank you!”

“Why are you thanking him?” Nolan teases. “The compliment was for me. I’m the one that made them taste good. You’re the one who chose to make a yellow stocking.”

“Be nice,” Hunter chides, but he’s still smirking, so I continue glaring. “Maison provided excellent moral support for those cookies.”

“And I did the cookie shape cutter things,” I add, not realizing how ridiculous I sound until after I’ve said it. I’m in this now, though. I have drawn a line. I will live or die on this yellow Christmas stocking cookie whether I like it or not.

“Yes, babe. You did great with the cookie shape cutter things.”

“I hate all of you.”

“Awwww, but you really don’t,” Carter says, coming around the counter to give me a hug. He even does grabby hands to telegraph his intentions.

I’m a fool, letting go of the cookies in order to receive the hug. I’m in the middle of an eyeroll when Bryce darts forward and snags the plate before hurrying back to Max where they each immediately take two.

In my brother’s defense, he seems just as surprised as me, his hug more of a fall forward than anything. I catch him with a laugh and squeeze the shit out of him. Well, squeeze him until he squeaks and then let him go and ruffle his hair until he grumbles, “Stop it,” like he used to as a kid.

“I really don’t hate you,” I promise him before narrowing my eyes at the others, lingering extra-long on Bryce. “The rest of you, though…”

Hunter tilts his head as he walks toward me. It’s this tilt he does when he’s considering me or Nolan. Usually in bed. The tilt that means he’s calculating, figuring out what to do with us next, figuring out the best way to take us apart. I gulp. He smiles.

He leans down, lips brushing the shell of my ear. I stare at the counter, my cheeks hot, as he whispers, “I’m not too worried, kitten. I’ll earn it back later.”

Suffice to say, I’m ready to fucking leave already.

Hunter is bossy the moment we get home, sending Nolan into the kitchen for snacks and drinks and me to the fireplace to get a fire started. He spends the time collecting blankets, creating a fluffy pile for us to sit on before sitting a little off to the side. I use the lighter to catch a few more pieces of newspaper on fire before taking a seat beside him. The logs softly crackle as they catch and ignite.

I cross my arm over Hunter’s where we have them placed behind ourselves to prop up our weight. He rests his chin on my shoulder and kisses the side of my neck, just below my ear. My eyes fall closed, a happy sigh slipping free.

I catch Nolan coming toward us and smile at him. He smiles back. Beams, really. He has another blanket draped over an arm and a little serving tray with three mugs and a plate of the Christmas cookies on it. He sets the tray down in front of the fire before lowering himself halfway and wiggling his butt until Hunter and I adjust our legs so he can settle between us. We keep our torsos pressed closed though, letting him lean his back against the two of us. I press a kiss to the top of his head when he’s settled. Hunter goes to do the same, bumping my forehead. We laugh together as he takes my place to kiss Nolan’s hair while I kiss his forehead better.

Nolan reaches an arm out and wiggles his fingers toward the tray he clearly can’t reach. I roll my eyes at him, but I’m a sucker for him so I leave our cozy bubble. There isn’t a good place to put the trays, so I just hand them each a hot chocolate - with a little too many marshmallows, but I doubt Hunter will point that out for the same reason I won’t be - and set the plate of cookies on Nolan’s lap.

“Tonight was nice,” Hunter says once I’m resettled. “Thank you for letting me come along.”

“Even with our crazy friends?” I tease.

He chuckles. “I’m sure you’ll get plenty of craziness from my crew at our party. It’s only fair.”

“Oh my god, speaking of craziness!” Nolan turns to look at me, then at Hunter, then at me, then at Hunter, before sighing, setting the plate of cookies and his mug down on the fireplace ledge and turning around so he can look at the two of us at the same time. “I have to tell you guys something really juicy.”

“Who says juicy anymore?” I ask.

He doesn’t deign my teasing with a response. “Ace and Matt kissed.”

Now, see, that is juicy.

We all knew that Ace was weak for Matt and that Matt felt safe with Ace, but the more time that passed, the more we all started to think that maybe they were just friends. Just a safe place for each other. Which was fine. Shit doesn’t always have to get romantic.

But now they’re kissing.

I need much more information, and Nolan’s shit-eating grin tells me he’s fully aware. He makes me ask for it. “When did this happen? How did it happen? Did he just tell you tonight?”

“It happened when I went to go find him to tell him we were leaving.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “I found him. In the back hallway. Being kissed by Ace.”

“Alright, now, being kissed?” Hunter asks, putting a hand out. “Or being kissed?” The second holds much more emphasis.

Nolan sighs, losing the excitement a little. “Just being kissed. It wasn’t a makeout session or anything. They were already pulling away from each other when I came around the corner, but it was obvious. Plus, they froze when they saw me. And then he dragged me away and told me to shut up and he didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Told you?” I ask, my voice going a little high in my shock. Way to bury the fucking lead.

Except Nolan shakes his head quickly. “No, sorry, signed. He told me by signing. Matt definitely didn’t talk tonight. Just kissing.”

“Can I ask…” Hunter puts his hand up like a student in class. It’s absolutely fucking adorable and makes me feel a little bit like I’m melting. “Sorry, not to ruin the fun gossip or anything, and feel free to tell me it’s not my business or it’s up to Matt to share with me, but why doesn’t he talk? Is it physical or…?”

I glance at Nolan, figuring it’s more his thing than mine. Except he’s looking back at me like it’s up to me to decide.

“It’s not physical,” I say. But then I pause, remembering the nut allergy I didn’t know about and the incident that was never reported. Nolan was the one to tell me those things our first day in the safehouse. “Well, as far as I know, it’s not physical. I don’t know if anyone really understands what happened.”

“He could, before,” Nolan adds. He seems to hesitate before crawling back between us and burrowing down as much as he can with everyone still sitting. “Something happened, about a year ago. I don’t know what exactly. I don’t - he just stopped. I begged him for days to talk and he’d just…”

“I’m sorry,” Hunter says after a minute or so has passed without him finishing. “I didn’t want to ruin the mood.”

“It’s okay. It’s - I mean, it’s sad, but it’s also not because he was there tonight, you know? He survived. We all did. And now he’s being kissed in hallways.”

“And here you are, not one, but two guys ridiculously in love with you,” I add, poking at his side to make him giggle.

“Ridiculously,” Hunter agrees.

“Well good because I’m ridiculously in love with you both too.”

“My boys,” Hunter says in a breathy, overly pleased sort of way. He rests his chin on Nolan’s head and looks over at me with a grin. “I’m so fucking lucky.”

It feels like the perfect moment to do something we’ve been talking about for a few days now. Something we wanted to wait to do until it felt right. This - us - feels so impossibly right as we sit here by the fire, the flames setting a background to yet another milestone in our love story, the gold-filled plate from Travis on the mantel above.

I meet Hunter’s eyes and say, “Nol, we have something we want to show you.”

Hunter’s face shifts into the brightest of grins.