Page 58 of Santa's Pucking Hat Trick

I took this moment to let my eyes wander over his face. He looked so much like himself—warm, serious, contemplative underneath all that manly gristle—but something inside me had shifted the moment I saw him hurt. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to see him smile, how much his well-being had become a part of mine.

“Seriously though,” I whispered, the emotion catching in my throat, “when Roman called, I thought…I don’t know what I thought. But it scared me.”

Sawyer’s expression softened, and his hand reached out, covering mine. His touch was warm, grounding, but I could still feel the pulse of worry under my skin.

“I’m fine, Rachel,” he murmured, his voice gentle. “It’s just a knee injury. I’ll be back on the ice before you know it.”

I nodded, knowing he was probably right, but that wasn’t what this was about. “It’s just…when I found out you were hurt, I realized how much I care about you. More than I think I’ve been willing to admit.”

Sawyer’s eyes searched mine for a moment before he spoke. “Rachel?—”

“I love you.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them, and I bit my lip, feeling exposed. “I didn’t mean to, honestly. I didn’t expect it. But I do. And my family didn’t raise me to keep that kind of thing to myself, so…there you go. That’s your problem, now.”

For a moment, Sawyer just stared at me, his breath catching, and I wondered if I had pushed too far, if maybe I’d freaked him out. But then his lips curved into a slow smile, something softer than I’d ever seen from him.

“I love you too,” he said, his voice quiet, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to say the words. “You’re in my head, Rachel. In my heart. All the time.”

I blinked, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I hadn’t expected him to say it back, not like this, but hearing those words from him—it was like something inside me finally settled.

“Are you sure?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, a little shaky. “I know you’ve been hurt before, and I don’t want to?—”

“I’m sure,” he interrupted gently, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s scary as hell, but yeah, I’m sure.”

The breath I’d been holding finally released, and I smiled, leaning into his touch. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

Sawyer’s thumb stroked my cheek, and he pulled me a little closer, his voice dropping low. “I think I do.”

But there was something he still didn’t know. Something Roman and Wes didn’t know either. It felt like now would be the time if I had all the pertinent information, but before I risked Sawyer running for the hills, scared shitless of us skipping so many steps of a relationship, I needed this moment to be normal. Needed to remind myself that he was here, and mine, and that his body wasn’t broken.

“I think I know what might help your knee feel better,” I told Sawyer at a seductive whisper, leaning in to undo the tie at the front of his sweatpants. His eyes blazed as he watched me, and I traced the outline of his cock in his underwear, willing it to get hard. “Think you’re well enough for some fun?”

“Sweetheart, for you, I’m always well enough.”

A while later,after a healing orgasm for Sawyer and a couple for me too—“There’s nothing wrong with my face,” Sawyer had complained when I expressed hesitation about sitting on it, “just my knee”—we lay together in his bed, a little tired and blissfully content. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. It felt like everything had clicked into place. Even though we hadn’t planned any of this—our relationship, the way it was unfolding, and certainly not the other secret I was trying to ignore—there was a sense of rightness in the air.

Just as Sawyer was pulling me closer, his arm heavy around my waist, there was a loud knock at the door, followed by Roman’s familiar voice booming through the apartment.

“Food delivery for some little bitch with a bum knee named Sawyer Finnegan,” Roman called through the apartment, and I laughed.

Sawyer groaned, his hand reluctantly letting go of me as he sat up, wincing a little as he moved his injured knee. “God, they have the worst timing,” he muttered, tossing me a rueful grin before awkwardly pulling his sweats back up over his knee. I quickly grabbed one of Sawyer’s shirts, slipping it over my head to cover my still-naked body.

“Smells like sex in here,” Roman said as he barged in the bedroom like he owned the place. “No fair, leaving us out.”

I blushed, glancing at Sawyer, who just shook his head with an exaggerated sigh. “What gave it away?” he drawled, settling back on the couch.

Wes followed Roman in, carrying a wooden tray, utensils, and all things Sawyer would need to eat his dinner in bed.

A bit out of order, though. He’d already had his dessert.

“Rachel looking cute as hell in your shirt was a big clue,” Wes answered Sawyer’s sarcastic question. Once Sawyer was all set with his takeout, both of my other two guys made sure to greet me with a kiss on either of my cheeks, bringing back the mushy feelings I’d shared with Sawyer before our sexual interlude. These two had no idea how deeply they’d rooted themselves into my heart, and now that I’d let the words slip with Sawyer, I knew things were changing between us—between all of us. I just wasn’t sure about saying the words to Wes and Roman in a group this way. They deserved their own small moments, just like they all deserved to have the full story.

Stupid Sawyer had to go and get himself hurt. I wouldn’t have told him yet, would have waited until he knew the arguably bigger news, if he hadn’t scared me shitless.

Roman plopped down next to Sawyer, taking a quick look at his knee before grinning up at me. “So, I’ve been thinking…”

“Oh no, that’s never good,” Wes joked, already reaching into one of Sawyer’s takeout containers, which Sawyer seemed too tired to discourage.

“Shut up, dude. It’s about the thing we talked about,” Roman said, his tone shifting a little. “I’ve been thinking about our whole deal. Our…relationship. You know, the four of us.”

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