Page 42 of Anchor

I know I fucked up years ago, but losing this woman was never an option. I’d rather die than lose her.

Come hell or high water, there is no life without her in it.

16

Heaven

“Heaven, where have you been lately? You barely spend any time with me after work anymore. I think I’m going through withdrawals,” Timmy complains as he sits next to me at the bar, the neon blue light around the metal shelving shining brightly.

Whoever designed this place was amazing in their concept for in the evenings, but an idiot during the day…because neither Jimmy and Timmy know how to turn the thing off.

“Spending it dating my husband before I stupidly screwed him on his tattoo chair four times, and now my hormones have kicked in…” I mumble to myself before I loudly state, “I’ve just been busy, Timmy.” I look at him and raise a brow. “Are you getting your period or something, because you’re starting to sound like a girl.”

He grins at me and raises a brow back, and dares me, “Tell me the truth, you’ve been fucking your husband again, haven’t you? We both know he’s not been doing any club business out oftown, so all that muscle at home has to make your bedroom play exciting….”

I groan, hating that he’s seen right through me, as Tate chuckles from behind the bar.

“You mean just like you, Tate, and Sabine have been screwing?” I retort, hoping to shut him up, but instead, the whore laughs.

“Too fucking right, I have. I mean, there is nothing I love more than fucking my man’s ass, then my woman’s cunt, while my man is in her ass rubbing against me. It’s amazing,” he says, and I drop my head, not needing that visual of a guy I see as a brother in that position, and Tate confirms, “It is an amazing feeling.”

I sigh and look up between them, and without thinking it through, I ask, “Am I an idiot for trying with him again? Are my hormones clouding my judgment?”

Timmy tilts his head at me while Tate is the one to speak up, “Timmy cheated at the start of our throuple,” he says, and my eyes widen in shock while Timmy looks down in shame.

Tate continues, “Sabine refused to have anything to do with him for nearly a year, so not as long as you, while I, well, I understood. He loved Sabine, but he wasin lovewith me, and that scared him, so he strayed. Once. I was hurt, don’t get me wrong, angry even, but I learned to forgive him. You never forget, but you learn from it. You grow together and fix what was broken so it doesn’t happen again.”

I nod in understanding because Dr. Larsa explained this. I ask, “How did Sabine forgive?”

Timmy speaks this time, “She wanted just Tate and her, as a way to punish me, but Tate refused to play her games and admitted to her that I’m the love of his life while, yes, he loves her, he’s in love with me, that I’m his everything, and he’d choose me always. She had a choice, walk away from both of us or learn to forgive, and she has. She knows where she stands within the three of us; she knows we love her, but she also knows Tate and I are one. There is no her and I, or Tate and her….”

I say, “But there is a Tate and you.”

Tate speaks this time, “There is. We’ve been best friends since freshman year of high school, and there was always something there. We both knew we belonged to each other but didn’t want to admit it at the time. While yes, Sabine completes us, she knows we don’t need her to stay together.”

I look between them, nod slowly, and admit, “I wasn’t completely innocent with what happened with Travis….”

It’s something I’ve come to realize over the past few months while doing therapy with him.

Tate butts in and snaps, “Yeah, you fucking were.”

I hold my hand up in defense, loving that he is at my back, even if it’s against myself, and I admit, “I’m not, not really. I did push him away after Micha was born, but that was because I was terrified that I’d become my mother. Housework-wise, I kept at it, cuddles at night; I was there, but my body, my lips, my heart, I closed off out of fear, and I know he felt it. We both messed up, but he just obliterated us, and I made a choice that was best for my mental health at the time, a choice I ensured stuck, thinking it was the right way to go.”

“And now?” Timmy asks, his eyes are soft.

I sigh and admit, “And now, I still believe I made the right decision because it made Travis grow up and take responsibility for his actions, but I can’t live without him now. I was in love with who he was until he hurt me, and it broke that love in a way, but now I’m in love with who he’s become, and if I’m honest with myself, that love is a hell of a lot stronger than it was back then. And if he were to ever stray again, no matter the reason, I know I won’t run like I did, instead I’ll chop his balls off and feed them to him.”

Timmy grins as Tate laughs, and I check the time.

“Right, thank you, gentlemen, for helping me with a come-to-Jesus moment, especially with our couples counselor on sabbatical, but I’ve got to go collect Micha from practice.” I pick up the papers in front of me and hand them to Timmy, confirming, “The contracts were clear, Cherry doesn’t have a leg to stand on; it says no fraternizing with the customers, and certainly no selling your body for money. She signed it, broke her contract in the back room, and now you have every legal right to fire her despite what she’s trying to say because, apparently, her brothers a lawyer and could sue you. Though, between you and me, the guy can only handle pet cases; he’s a pet sitter, not a lawyer. I looked into it.”

Jimmy and Timmy asked if I’d look into the case, since I’m a licensed lawyer, and I thought, why not. I haven’t found any job prospects just yet—not enough experience, so this makes me happy.

I’m still serving behind the bar while thinking of starting my own firm. But now, instead of wearing just bras, I wear a black top that looks like a corset but is actually stretchable material to accommodate my growing bump. Travis hates that I still workhere, but he knows these two men have my back, and besides, if he isn’t here the nights I work, Acid, Piston, or Steal are.

He's giving me what I need to stay independent, and honestly, that just lets him into my heart, into my life, a little more. It helps that tight, suffocating squeeze I had around my throat loosen, knowing he wants me enough not to get in the way of my job.

He’s proving he’s no longer that immature teenager, but I guess the true test will be when I’m heavily pregnant.

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