Page 73 of Puck Daddies
MEG
I can’t holdquestions and court filings and fundraisers without knowing where I stand with the three men I love. I text them from Bea’s before close:Tonight. Kitchen. All four.They reply with thumbs and bees and a heart.
My stomach does a nervous flip that has nothing to do with espresso.
At eight, I lay out notebooks, pens, and a pot of tea. The honey candle Hudson made—BRAVE—burns low on the counter. Hudson brings bowls of cut fruit and pretzels. Rocco carries water and his neat legal pad. Oliver brings a printed agenda. We sit, elbows touching, and I take a breath.
“I need us to put a name on what we’re doing and map the logistics. I can’t juggle hearings, inspections, vendors, and a secret situation. I don’t want secret. I want it clear.”
“Clear,” Oliver agrees.
“Clear,” Rocco echoes.
Hudson nods. “Say the thing, and we’ll back it.”
“What are we to each other?” I look at each of them. “Because the words matter. We’ve been best friends since middle school, and…I think we all know this is more than that now. So, what do we call it? What are you guys looking for?”
“I don’t know all the correct poly or open or whatever terms…” Rocco leans forward. “But I think of us as a four-cornered partnership. Four points, one shape. Not a triangle with a spare. All ofuschoosing all ofus.”
Hudson rubs his thumb over my knuckles. “Sounds like a square.”
Oliver snorts. “We’ve always been a little square.”
Hudson rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth upturns.
“Then let’s adopt it. A square. A four-cornered partnership. Whichever.” Saying it out loud settles something low in my chest. “Next up is schedules. I have the shop, I open at seven, close at five, plus events. You have practice, games, and volunteer shifts. The next two weeks are packed. I need windows where we’re together on purpose. And I need nights where we are not, because I have to sleep.”
Oliver slides the agenda toward me. “Block party fallout tomorrow, practice at ten, I have the bank call at noon. Rocco has the shelter. Hudson has Meals on Wheels. Nights: dinner here by eight, no legal talk after nine.”
Hudson adds, “Game days, we keep physical contact light until after the horn. No new stressors on my head.”
Rocco draws boxes. “Rotations for overnight, so no one burns out. Meg’s bed is Meg’s. Guests are allowed by invite only. If you want company, ask. If you want space, say it.”
“I like that,” I say. “And I want standing check-ins, fifteen minutes each night. Colors. Green, yellow, red.”
Oliver nods. “Green we’re good, yellow we have a wobble, red stop and triage. Done.”
“Next is the press.” My stomach tightens. I know this is touchy for Hudson. “We need a plan. People are watching. We can’t keep pretending the photos aren’t real. I don’t want to feed the machine, but I also don’t want you hammered in scrums.”
Hudson stares at his water. “Last week was bad. I won’t give them that again. PR has a statement if they push.” He looks at me. “We say we keep our private lives private, we’re focused on the team and the community, and we won’t answer questions about the shop beyond posted updates. We shut it down fast.”
Oliver adds, “If the team asks internally, we answer simply—we’re adults, we are together, it isn’t a distraction. If a teammate crosses a line, we bring it to Coach.”
“Good. Now my shop. Disclosures.” I open my notebook to a page titled STAFF. “They all know. They don’t care. I’m pretty sure something poly is happening between Bex, Tom, and Anthony, but I haven’t figured it out. Either way, no one is judging us.”
“What’s the message?” Rocco asks.
“Money. House expenses. Food. Candles. I can’t let you carry me. I’ll contribute what I can.”
Oliver nods once. “Shared spreadsheet. Everyone logs groceries and shared costs. No hero buys. You keep your savings for the fight.”
Rocco jumps in. “Sleeping arrangements. Hudson’s room is best for group nights because the bed is big. Other nights by request. No pressure. No keeping score.”
“Sex,” I say, because we have to say it. “We keep what we already set—consent out loud, aftercare, the stop word ishiveorred. Tests up to date. No surprises. No games.”
They nod in agreement.
Rocco taps his pen. “Jealousy. We say it when it hits. We don’t punish. We signal when we need a one-on-one. We make space without making distance.”
