Page 42 of Claiming Ours
“Have you ever tried it?”
“Tried what?” he asked, sounding exhausted.
His dog pushed off the floor from where he lay beside the chair and rested his large head on Memphis’s leg. Long tattooed fingers brushed over his fur before scratching behind each ear, causing the dog’s tail to rapidly thump on the hardwood floor.
“A poly relationship, more than one romantic partner, like in our community. Have you ever tried it?”
He shook his head, not looking away from Elvis. “No, though I’ll admit after being here, I’m intrigued. What about you?” He peeked over through his light lashes. “Was this all new to you, or were you in this lifestyle before?”
“I was in one but didn’t realize it,” I grumbled, and his brows rose. That single ring glinted in the firelight. “Before moving here, I was married, faithful to her even though we hardly saw each other because of my deployments. She was killed in a car wreck, head-on collision. Later I found out she wasn’t the driver—her fucking boyfriend was.”
“Oh fuck. I’m assuming he died in the crash, too, or you killed him with your bearlike hands.”
I snorted a laugh, which was shocking considering this topic always fueled that undercurrent of anger running through me. “I figured out she was having an affair with some guy for a while behind my back. The cops relayed all the information on the accident investigation, and I also did my own, uncovering a lot of other shit I really wish I hadn’t.”
“Like?” He leaned forward, clearly engrossed in my fucked-up past.
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling, trying to remember some of the worst of those discoveries. “Like the fucker wasn’t her first boyfriend and probably wouldn’t have been her last. She told her friends she was unhappy in the marriage but didn’t want to leave me, so she just fucked around while I was away, then acted fine when I was home. That fucked with me for a long time. How shecould act happy but was doing that behind my back. Everything felt so fucking fake, and I hated it.”
The dog’s head swiveled my way with a whine. I tapped a single finger on my thigh, and he trotted over and rested his muzzle on my leg, with big dark eyes gazing up at me like he desperately wanted to soothe me.
“Is he a therapy dog?”
“Not trained, but he picks up on moods. Elvis has been with me through it all—the rehab program even let him come with me. I think he’s more hyperaware of strong emotions than most dogs. He likes his ears scratched,” Memphis added. “What happened after all that?”
“A funeral that I didn’t even want to attend because I felt so fucking betrayed, but I still went out of loyalty to our marriage. After that, I lost myself for a while. Went back to the rodeo circuit in Montana, picked up amateur MMA fights, too, but none of it helped the”—I pressed a fist to my chest where the pain used to live—“anger and grief. Someone knew a guy named Brandon who started an adventure and rescue company in Alaska and needed help. I had one conversation with the guy and knew it was my shot at breaking out of the misery I’d fallen into. I packed up my shit and moved here.” A small smile pulled at my lips. “Then she came.”
“Baylee.” At a whine and pressure on my thigh, I resumed running the tips of my fingers through Elvis’s short coarse fur. “She moved here right after Dean’s death?” Memphis questioned, watching me and Elvis with a goofy grin.
“A while after the funeral, yeah. Even in her utter grief, the sadness that wrapped around her, she was breathtakingly beautiful. Every aspect of her felt real, no agenda or manipulations. It was the complete opposite of what I knew before, and it instantly drew me to her. But knowing she wasmourning and vulnerable, I didn’t want to take advantage, so I waited.”
“And waited and waited and waited.”
Both of our heads whipped around at the sound of Baylee’s voice. She tiptoed into the room, rounding the couch to stand in front of where I sat. I swallowed the distressed groan that wanted to escape at the sight of her in the oversized shirt that hung down her thighs, covering up whatever sleep shorts she wore beneath. If she even wore any.
She looked down at me. “You’re a good man, Liam, and I’m sorry I made you wait so long, that my grief?—”
Hands around her hips, I guided her onto my lap, her legs falling to either side of my hips. Over her shoulder, I smirked at finding Memphis’s heated stare locked on her ass.
“You’re allowed whatever time you need, Little Bit. My biggest fear was you getting stuck there. You deserve so much more than that dark, sad state of living.”
“I don’t know if I do.”
“Please tell me you don’t believe that, Bay.” She shifted to glance at Memphis. “Dean wouldn’t have wanted you to mourn him forever, to not move on and be happy.”
“It just feels so wrong to be here, to be happy when he’s not. He’s gone.” Her voice broke and her head fell forward, allowing her blonde hair to curtain around her face.
Pulling her even closer, I wrapped both arms around her back until she buried her face against my neck.
“But you’re still here,” Memphis stated, pushing out of the chair to stand in front of the fire. His fingers twitched at his sides, as if fighting the urge to rip her out of my arms. I curled my lip in a silent snarl that had him holding up both hands in surrender. “You didn’t die with him, Baylee. Maybe the future you wanted, but not your actual future. There is so much more to look forward to. If all the group therapy in that rehab programtaught me anything, it’s that we learn from our past, but don’t let it dictate your future.”
Silence filled the cabin for several long seconds. Her gentle breaths brushed along my neck, making me relax into the cushions as the tension drained from my tight muscles. If I could have her in my arms every day, maybe I wouldn’t be so fucking angry or have the urge to kick the shit out of someone just because I needed a release.
“I asked Dean to give me a sign that it was okay. Time for me to move on.” She pressed her small hands to my chest, pushing back to find Memphis with her watery blue gaze. “Then you showed up, and I feel….” Memphis’s shoulders rose to his ears, the tension in his frame almost palpable. Elvis trotted over to where he stood and nosed a clenched fist. “Relieved. Happy. Settled even.” Her gaze flicked to me, and she licked her lips. “Though that could also be from the fun we had this morning too.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed the back of my head hard into the couch. Memories from earlier flickered behind my lids, making my cock twitch in my jeans. My nostrils flared with every deep inhale.
“Must have been good with that reaction,” Memphis mused.
