Beck turned off the radio completely. “Don’t be mad at Rhys. He came from a good place.”
I twirled my hand in a go-ahead motion, ready to hear the actual meat of this disturbing story.
“He came to see me and Thatcher today because he wanted to make sure when you told us, we didn’t blow up on you and make you feel bad for your decisions. I’m glad he did. He was right to tell us. Because my head would not have been on right if you’d blindsided me with that information. And I would have hated myself for it later.”
Okay.
No.
“There’s so much wrong with that, I don’t even know where to start. Why didn’t you just tell me? Instead, I’ve been talking myself in circles all evening trying to figure out the best way to tell you. Because you do deserve to know. I just wished you’d heard it from me.”
“But it wasn’t just your secret to share, was it?” He posed the question like he was some wise philosopher about to impart the wisdom of someone at least twenty-one years old.
Twisting my mouth to the side, I thought about my answer, because this felt like a trick question. I wasn’t the only one who participated, but I was the one in a relationship with each guy. Or I wanted to be. With Thatcher, it was still very innocent. With Rhys, we lived together, no matter that it was as roommates. And Beck, we were admittedly just as close as I was with Rhys.
“I have the relationship with you three. It was mine to share.”
“Not technically. Yes, you are dating the three of us, and we agreed we wouldn’t make you give anyone up. Doesn’t that put us all in one big relationship?”
He was making my brain hurt. Did it put us into one big relationship? That sounded a little odd and unconventional. But I was flying in the face of that already if I asked my dad’s opinion.
“Okay, so you’re saying Rhys was concerned for me, so he shared very private information that should have been just between us with you.”
“You shared it, so it definitely was not private between you two.”
“Damnit. You’re making good points. I don’t like it.”
He smiled. “Why? Because it’s hard for you to hold onto your anger? The little bit of pique you’re showing right now is nothing compared to what I’d be feeling—and acting on—in your shoes. You can be upset…with Rhys. Not with me, I was just the listener.” He winked.
And damn me, I laughed. Then sobered because at the root of it, this was a serious conversation that set the tone of our relationship.
“If it means anything, I know this was not done maliciously. He wasn’t trying to make us jealous or flex on us. He wanted to know if we could each handle a relationship with you if we were all sexually active, and he wanted to know we’d be there for you. Part of that was not making you question yourself so soon after your gaslighting mother exited your life. I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I think it was him taking care of you. Something I can’t fault because I want to take care of you too.” He tugged on a piece of my hair.
“You make it really hard to be mad at you, you know that?” I leaned into his hand when he cupped my cheek.
“Because I did nothing wrong?” he hinted good-naturedly.
“No, you should have told me you knew.” I stood firm on my ground. Now I felt like a silly schoolgirl telling him something he already knew.
“Ah, but what was I supposed to say? Hey, pretty girl, no worries but I know you had sex for the first time last night, and that you gave a very important first to someone else. Is that what I should have led with? If you want the truth, I really wanted you to tell me on your own. To trust me.”
He was right. And I understood exactly why he felt that way. It didn’t change the fact that I wished he would have told me. “If there is anything important like this to share, I want to be the one to share it. Can you agree to that?”
“Absolutely.” He agreed too easily.
“Why was that such an easy thing for you to agree to?”
“Because you forget, I wasn’t the one who shared in the first place. So yes, it’s that easy for me to agree to. And hands down, this is probably the only thing that could happen between any of us that we, or Rhys, would believe was important enough to share ahead of you. Don’t worry. None of us want details about the other’s time with you. And outside of our agreement that we still wanted you and wouldn’t fuck this up, we’re not going to bring it up again. Can I ask one thing, though?”
He leaned forward, pulling me in to meet him halfway.
“Yes?” I whispered. The sun had already set, but passing cars illuminated his face in brief flashes.
“Save some of your firsts for me?” He kissed me so soft, it was barely a butterfly brush across my lips.
Breathless and starry-eyed, I said, “I will.”
“Get out of here. Thatcher is waiting for you.” He gave me a nudge toward the door.