Page 48 of Finding Their Place

He didn’t sound jealous but definitely hurt.

“So, I did the same just to show the fucker that I wasn’t some submissive bottom like he’d demanded of me the whole time we were together,” Garrett continued before I could spew off some shit about his ex being an ass.

I stretched out my legs and tugged Garrett’s arm until he sprawled out on his side, his scruffy cheek on my bare thigh. He snaked a hand beneath my knee, and between his light touch and the scratch of his whiskers on my skin, I needed new panties.

Guess the whole finally getting dick hadn’t lessened my desire for him.

“Give it to me,” I demanded, my tone not allowing argument or a brush off. I ran my fingers through his hair with my free hand, loving how soft the strands were.

“I felt powerful in that moment, watching Alec’s smile dissolve. Seeing the jealousy in his eyes while I turned another guy to putty in my hands.”

“Go you,” I said with a snicker and enjoyed another swallow of my coffee, glad he’d gotten back even a little bit the confidence he’d told me Alec had stripped from him.

“Yeah. It felt awesome, but then I got here and heard a bunch of moaning and headboard slamming.”

I’d taken his high away.

Shit.

“Sorry about that,” I whispered, truly meaning every word. If I had known Garrett had come home, I would have stopped Wyatt, shut down our noisy fucking—no matter how close to release we might have been.

Okay, so maybe I’d have bit my tongue or made sure his mouth swallowed my cries and vice versa.

There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for Garrett, but Wyatt was able to take me to the edge where not much else mattered.

“I hope he makes you happy, Hal. He better not ensnare you and then drop you at the first rocking of the boat.”

“I know he’s not really a mythical creature with a spiraled horn,” I stated quietly, scratching at Garrett’s scalp like I’d done with Wyatt. An image flashed in my mind of both men using me as their pillows, my fingers tangling in their hair. They would prop up on their elbows to lean into one another and kiss while I cradled their heads.

My throat tightened.

Could I share Wyatt with him? Would Garrett even be interested in a threesome with me if he and Wyatt hit it off? Would having a woman in the room while they loved on one another be a dick deflator for my best friend?

I chewed on the inside of my lip, my heart torn when moments earlier I thought I’d been on a good path. Not sure what to say, I kept silent and finished my coffee while Garrett began to breathe heavily as though I’d comforted him enough that he finally found sleep.

I talked to Wyatt every night that week, sometimes a video chat while we snuggled in our beds.

Sure, we’d fucked each other’s brains out, but neither of us wanted sex to be our focus, so we made a pact—no dates on weeknights. Just hour-long conversations to deepen our connection.

Besides, Wyatt still had a shit ton of things on his brain, and I’d agreed to give him physical space so he could focus on his emotions about the whole situation of his adoption. He and River spoke every day too, and from everything he told me about her, I knew she would be my kind of girl.

Forthright and honest, a little bit wild, a lot of independent, and I wanted to be her new bestie.

My heart ached for the two of them, and every time Wyatt’s eyes filled with tears while we pillow-talked on FaceTime, mine hazed over too. Who knew empathy could be so earth-shattering and heart-wrenching?

He hadn’t reached out to his adoptive parents, hadn’t answered either of their calls. He’d skipped their weekly family dinner on Tuesday night. They had text messaged him a bunch of times, begging to talk to him, assuring him of their love, their best intentions.

But Wyatt’s hurt dug in stubbornly, and I felt it. I’d lived it. I ached to hold him like I did Garrett every night that week, the two of us all koala bear on each other as usual.

I couldn’t erase the frown on my best friend’s face, couldn’t seem to break through the heaviness on his shoulders no matter how much I told him I loved him or built him up. If anything, it only seemed to make matters worse for Garrett—and he clung to me harder.

Wyatt struggled to identify himself.

Garrett couldn’t decide where he belonged.

“You are not going back there,” I stated firmly when he mentioned returning to Pennsylvania for the second time because the thought of him moving away twisted my insides up.

We laid on the couch watching a movie Thursday night, me the big spoon, my arm wrapped around his thick chest. With my head propped up on a pillow, I could see over his to watch the TV, but I couldn’t make out his face.

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