Page 28 of Eternally Devoted

Everything is going to be just fine.

That’s the most work a shower has ever taken. Every two seconds, my mind would slip to what I’m about to do and panic would set it.

I know those men deserved what they got, especially the man from this afternoon. But if taking their lives means that I will lose Sterling and Dash, then the cost far outweighs the worth.

I can’t lose them.

Losing them would be like losing Dolly and Ivy.

Tugging on a dusty rose-colored long silk slip nightie, I comb through my hair, leaving it down and wet around my shoulders. Nighttime routine is less important than getting to the men in my kitchen and making them understand.

Explaining the side of me they don’t know.

Light on my feet, I creep down the hall, stopping mere feet from the end to take in the most perfect sight. Dash and Sterling, sitting hip to hip at my kitchen counter. In front of them are plates with toast, and mugs full of tea, steam drifting lazily off the tops. Sterling’s got one arm wrapped tightly around Dash, his face turned toward him, speaking softly and privately. I can’t see Sterling’s face, but I can see Dash’s.

I see the way Dash’s focus swims between Sterling’s deep hazel eyes and his mouth. The way Dash listens to Sterling is brimming with intimacy, and my entire body squeezes at thesight of them. If I had to guess, Sterl is reassuring a very nervous Dash.

I hate to put them in this situation. One where they have to make a choice, not just about me, but themselves, too. Honoring their own lives over mine means turning me in for everything I’m about to share. And I wouldn’t hate them if they did that. I would understand.

My heart would be broken, though. I can’t deny that.

“I wish I had a photo of this,” I breathe the words out quietly in trial, trying to gauge if they’re ready for me.

Sterling’s arm drops off the back of Dash, and he twists on the stool to face me. Two sets of the most handsome eyes take me in and Sterling pulls out the stool next to him, patting the top of it. A mug of tea and a plate of toast is there, too, waiting for me.

“What do you want a photo of?” Sterl asks, nudging the mug of tea into my hands.

“You two, talking, looking like you fit perfectly in my kitchen.” I sip the oolong. “Like you’re both where you belong.”

It’s an admission of sorts, a very passive one, though, I’ll admit. But with what we’re about to get into, admitting my desires for them right now feels like the wrong time.

Dash leans forward, looking like he’s aged five years in the last twenty minutes. A groove of unease carves through my chest, and I reach past Sterling to link my fingers around Dash’s wrist.

I don’t know what to say. Apologizing feels too small, so instead, I just smile.

“Juniper,” Dash starts, a slight tremor in his voice. “I only have one request.”

I nod, and look up at Sterling, to find him nodding at me, too. Whatever Dash is about to request, Sterling is privy to, and agrees with. “What is it?”

“The truth. Every single word you speak in this kitchen tonight, it’s gotta be the truth, okay?”

Releasing his wrist, I sink into my barstool, looking between the two of them. “Okay.” Their gazes still weigh on me, so I add, “I promise.”

Staring at the sourdough toast plated in front of me, I cautiously hedge, “What do you want to know?” It’s a stupid question because they want to know everything. Of course they do. If the roles were reversed I would want every morsel of knowledge, too. But I’ve never spoken about any of this aloud, to anyone, ever. Not even myself.

It’s proving to be more challenging than I thought.

Sterling’s arm comes around my back, and the scrape of his barstool feet against the floor tells me he’s moved closer. His body rains heat down on me, his comforting scent of sweat and cologne make my skin tingle, bumps erupting. I let my head crash against his shoulder, and set loose a decade-long trapped sigh.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Just start with tonight. Tell us about the man you killed and buried.”

Stomach acid burns at the back of my nose at his choice of words.Killed and buried.

He’s not wrong—that’s what I did tonight. And that wasn’t even close to my first time.

But Sterling. He’s so strong and kind, his heart is so pure. I dragged him—and Dash—into this. I pulled two of the best human beings in Bluebell into my mess. They don’t deserve this stress.

A tremble rolls through my bottom lip, but I tip up my chin and take a deep, steadying breath. No dragging it out. Time to rip off the Band-Aid.

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