Page 110 of Double Bucked

“Poor Ransom,” I coo. “I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?”

He pouts. “You can stick a nasal strip on that pretty nose.”

I press my mouth to his, kissing away his pout. “How’s that?”

He hums. “It’s a start.”

The bed creaks as Everett shifts. Shit.

Kissing Ransom was instinctive. But I’ve never kissed him in front of Everett before. A sliver of guilt cuts like a knife down my sternum.

Everett gets out of bed and fixes his glasses onto his face. “I’ll make breakfast.”

“I’ll help,” I say, guilt rising.

Be a better daughter.

Be a better wife.

But when I look at Everett, there’s no hatred there or resentment. Instead, he says, “No need. Stay cozy.”

Then he mimics my motion with Ransom; he cups my chin, tilts my head, and presses a gentle, chaste kiss to my mouth.

And like that, we break.

Like that, it’s normal.

Kissing Ransom. Kissing Everett. Having them both in my bed.

Why not?

My father sold me like livestock.

I have a bounty out for my head.

Why can’t this be normal?

“Any requests?” Everett asks.

“I’d murder my grandmimi for more of those pancakes,” Ransom says.

Everett nods and looks at me. “Anything else?”

“Whatever you make is perfect. Thank you.”

He slips on his sweatpants, dons a shirt, and then leaves the room.

Ransom’s hand slips over my knee. “He’s in a better mood this morning.”

“We worked things out last night.”

In the chair. On the dining room table. Messy, hard work. The memory of it lights up like fireflies through my blood.

Ransom’s thumb rubs over my knee. “I’m glad for that. I am. But I’ve gotta ask…what’s that mean for us?”

I look him in the eyes. Ransom. My sweet Ransom. Those chocolate-brown, soulful eyes. I could spill any of my secrets to those eyes, and now, when he looks at me like that, I feel compelled to tell him the truth. The honest truth.

“I need you right now,” I tell him. “Both of you. I don’t know what that means, or what that looks like, I-I don’t even know if it’s fair to either of you, it’s selfish, but…”

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