Page 77 of Eternally Devoted

I wondered if I’d have nightmares about what we did. I thought maybe I’d see dismembered fingers in my dreams or something.

But in the last three weeks, I’ve been having more sex and deep sleep than the prior thirty-four years of my life combined.

There hasn’t been room for nightmares or guilt. Hell, when I hear thewhoop whoopof a police siren, I get bricked up because I think of Dash. No part of me ever wonders “Is this it?”

I recognize that’s kind of fucked up.

I should be like, I don’t know, internalizing and stewing, pulling at my hair and tossing and turning.

Instead, I’m sleeping in my bed withmy partners, having sex I never dreamed of having, kissing and touching the sweetest, most beautiful people I’ve ever known, living my life in a way I thought I never would.

I thought I’d always be the reliable friend, the sidekick, the fun uncle, theotherguy.

They gave me the life I always dreamed of, and in return, I will give them everything.

That’s where my mind has been. Them. Us.

Not decomposed body parts in drums and bags.

Dash and I have been back to work for the last few weeks. He’s been happy to report daily that not a single soul has mentioned foul play regarding the abandoned truck near the ravine. Juniper has been staying at our house for the last three weeks, too. She said after everything that’s gone down, she hasn’t been in the mood to make jam. All she wants to do, in her words, not mine, is “Be with my guys.”

It’s fucking sweet, and I love her.

I hated the idea of her sitting at our place, bored out of her mind, feeling uninspired and lonely while Dash and I were at work. Yesterday after I was off of work, I ran by the Eat O Rama and grabbed all the things she’d need for a small but fresh batch of jam.

As soon as she saw the supplies on the counter, she started to cry. Finally, we pulled it out of her that she’s harboring guilt for using her jam for evil.

I smirked when she said that, but made sure she didn’t see me. I knew what she meant—lacing her jam then using the jars to knock out weird men—but still, “Using my jam for evil” was about the most adorable thing she could say.

After one batch of delicious strawberry jam and two very sticky blowjobs, Juniper expressed being ready to “Get back at it.” She’d told Dolly and Hudson to tell all the folks at the farmers market that she threw out her back and would return to her booth as soon as she could. Today we’re taking her back to her place so she can make jam and be part of the market this weekend.

The drive to her place is completely silent.

Because she’s filling so many backlogged orders, she’ll be working around the clock, which means… she won’t be sleeping in my bed with me and Dash.

The three of us have not had a night apart in over three weeks, and now the idea of sleeping without her is so depressing I can hardly stand it. But the fact she’s ready to get back to her jam making is good. She’s healing from everything that’s gone down, and that’s positive.

We get out of my truck but before my door is even shut, I’ve got an idea. A plan. Because leaving Juniper here at her house just… doesn’t work for me.

Dash and I walk behind her, our arms full of boxes of fruit and sugar. “Could you live here? You know, instead of our place?”

He doesn’t even break pace or hesitate. “Yeah, I mean, in my mind, as this thing progressed, I kind of thought we would.”

“Yeah?” I ask, adjusting the second box in my arms so we don’t lose any berries.

He nods around his armful. “Yeah, I mean, all her big pots and canning stuff is here, and the market is on this property nearly. It wouldn’t make sense for her to live at our place. I just, I don’t know. I didn’t feel like I could be the guy to suggest the move.”

“Door’s unlocked, I’m gonna run to the restroom,” Juniper calls, her keys dangling from the gold doorknob as she disappears inside the house.

We stop in our tracks, a few paces from the door. I lower my boxes to the ground, and fold my arms over my chest. “Why do you say that?”

He puts his boxes down, too, sifting a hand through his soft hair. “I live in your house and she lives in her house. Kinda not my place to say either way. Besides, I just wanna be where you guys are.”

My chest squeezes. I can’t say I’ve completely grown comfortable with touching Dash the way that I want to quite yet. I still feel like he’s gonna stop me and laugh and say,What the fuck are you doing, man?I know he loves me but still, he’s so funny and sexy, I still catch myself wondering what he sees in me.

Today, though, I have zero hesitation when I reach out, grab him by the back of the neck and drag his face to mine for a hot kiss. “Welive inourhouse; she lives in her house,” I tell him, our lips grazing a moment before he eats up my words, kissing me again.

He nods, laughing a little as he collects my boxes and passes them to me, then grabs his own. “Okay, noted. So you wanna move in here?”

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