Carter

Sims, it seems, has hired another couple of duds. I like the man, but I don't know if he's cut out for managing a build of this scale. As we lean over the blueprints, troubleshooting an old water line that isn't where the city's plans said it was supposed to be, I say, 'Sims, what do you think of Ericson?"


To his credit, he says, 'Hiring him was a mistake."

I nod. 'And what are you going to do about it?"

'Let him go?" He hesitates. 'His wife is pregnant. Twins. She's on bed rest, can't work."


That changes things. 'Don't let him go yet. But if he doesn't come around after you talk to him, he's going to have to find other work. We're managing a multi-million-dollar project, not running a charity. Let him know he's on his last chance."

'Gotcha." Sims clears his throat. 'You're a good man, Swann."


'Everyone deserves a chance to make things right."

Two hours later, I'm walking into Mark's house. There are a couple of cars I don't recognize in the driveway, but the house is quiet. I peer through the kitchen window to the back yard. Evangeline is sitting in a lounge chair, surrounded by a few other people her age. One of them shifts to the side, and I see that Evangeline's leg is elevated, her ankle wrapped up.

I yank open the sliding door and hurry toward her. 'What the fuck happened?"

'I fell," she says. 'Relax, Carter, it's no big deal."

'Did you take something to help with the swelling?"

'Yep," she says.

The curly, blond-haired friend, Saige, speaks up. 'Leonard got her all set up with ice and ibuprofen and pretty much promised her the world if she'll take it easy for the rest of the day."

'Did he, now? Well, good. I guess you're all set, then."

'You could hang with us," Evangeline says. 'Leonard didn't seem to want to."

'Well, he's crazy like that," I say. 'I'll be back in a few."

'Love triangle," someone whispers.

Shit, I didn't mean to expose any of this to her friends. But Evangeline's smiling, unbothered, so I won't be bothered, either.

Leonard

Seeing Evangeline fall was the worst.

But now that her friends are gone and Carter brought her inside to relax on the couch in the living room, there's something else niggling at my brain—a comment one of her friends made.

Not 'Doctor McScowl" and how I was looking at her, although I'm a little distressed that they were picking up on my feelings for Evangeline.

No, I'm more concerned with 'Chanel can have Thomas."

I met that guy named Thomas. I thought he was a dumbass. And I got a vibe out of how he talked about Evangeline, how he asked if Carter was her boyfriend. Which leads me to believe that Thomas is her ex.

And the friend said Chanel can have him? Does that mean what I think it means—is Chanel dating Evangeline's ex?

I take a shower to wipe off the sweat of the day and throw on some lounge pants before returning to the living room.

Evangeline's still wearing her bikini. Her head is thrown back, her eyes closed. Pleasure twists her features. I don't see Carter anywhere…until I come around the side of the couch.

He's kneeling on the floor, his face between her legs.

Because of course he's eating her out.

Her bikini bottom is pushed to the side as he licks and fingers her.

Watching Evangeline come on his face is something I really, really shouldn't do. But fuck, the sight of it is a fragile, messy beauty and I can't look away.

She grips his hair and moans with tiny, whimpering sounds that have my dick impossibly hard. I'm frozen in place, every muscle rigid. I want to join, but I don't dare—not after last time, not until we figure out a way to tell Mark.

The thought of my stepbrother is enough to act as a splash of cold water over my heated skin, and I spin around before marching back to the kitchen. I lean over and brace myself against the counter, closing my eyes, trying to breathe.

I told her if we were in, we were all in. That we would tell Mark, that there would be no secrets. What I didn't take into consideration is the fact that it would never work out.

But I'm so fucking desperate for her…and I don't think I could give her up. It could never work, but I'm tantalized with the impossible idea of what if.

Several minutes pass. I'm not sure how many, but my hands grow numb from gripping the counter so hard.

'Jaime, what are you doing?" Carter asks.

'I don't know, Swann, what are you doing?"

'I'm getting a paper towel damp to help clean up the mess I made." He grins.

I don't even need to ask; I know what mess he's talking about. But I'm not in the mood to get distracted by it. I'd gone searching for him for a reason—Evangeline, too.

'Hey, I just figured something out, I think," I say.

Evangeline walks into the kitchen, her sheer cover-up doing nothing to conceal her bikini-clad body. Her face and neck are flushed, her blond hair in disarray. When she sees me, she flushes darker. 'Oh. Um, hi. I thought you were in the shower."

'I was. Got out a few minutes ago."

She wants to know how long ago, whether I saw anything happening in the living room. I'm not going to indulge her.

'I heard something interesting when your friends were here," I say, deciding to cut right to it. 'It sounded like Chanel and Thomas are together—and Thomas is your ex?"

The way she reacts, as if I've slapped her, makes me immediately regret the question.

Evangeline

I sway on my feet. How did Leonard figure it out? Nobody said anything about it during the pool party, did they?

Then I remember Brenna appreciating the way Leonard took charge of the situation when I fell. She said something about Chanel and Thomas.

Carter looks like he wants to throw a punch at Leonard, but I hold out a hand.

'It's okay," I say.

'You don't have to talk about it." Leonard looks chagrined. 'It's not my business, but when I heard that, it explained why Mark is so worried about you—it wasn't a normal break-up, was it?"

My mouth opens. Closes.

Leonard's voice is soft. 'Really, I don't need to know. Neither of us do."

I finally force the words out. 'It wasn't a normal break-up. I mean, break-ups are always hard and they don't usually feel ‘normal.' But Thomas and I were engaged. Then he cheated on me…yeah, with my sister."

Neither of the men moves. They stand motionless and tense like they're ready to catch me if I fall apart.

Not knowing what else to say, I continue, 'And I'd thought Chanel and I were growing closer. She wanted to hang out with me more, spend more time together, even without Thomas. Now I think she was just searching for weaknesses in his and my relationship because she wanted him for herself."

'Unbelievable," Carter mutters. 'Jesus Christ, that's cold."

'It's fine," I say, waving a hand. 'I'm fine. Truly."

'There's nothing ‘fine' about it." Carter rubs a hand over his stubble, looking like he just got hit in the stomach. I know how he feels.

Nodding once in agreement, Leonard says, 'Now I understand why Mark was worried. But you're strong, Trouble. And your friends seem pretty solid."

'They are." I never leaned on them before—I thought I had a life all figured out for myself in Fair Heights with Thomas. But now I know they'd have my back, just as I'd have theirs.

And Carter and Leonard would have my back, too. I can see that now in the way they're watching me. Half concerned, half proud, one hundred percent caring.

'Doll," Carter says, breaking the silence. 'You really need to get off of that ankle. Didn't you say you have errands tomorrow?"

I hold back a groan. I do have errands, dress-shopping with Chanel and my mom. Too bad I didn't break my ankle. They'd probably make me come and use crutches, though.

'I can walk without limping," I say, 'but you're right, I should rest."

Carter raises his eyebrows. 'I have some good ideas for keeping you on your back. Leonard, you in?"

He asks it so casually, I half-expect Leonard to agree. But my step-uncle shakes his head and says, 'You two go on."

I can't help but look over my shoulder as I follow Carter out of the kitchen and to the bedroom, and Leonard is leaning over the counter, staring at nothing.

I wish he would look at me.

I wish he would come with us.

--

Chanel stands on a little pedestal in front of six mirrors angled so that she has every possible view of the crystal-studded white gown adorning her body. Her rich brown hair is pulled back and pinned so it cascades in soft ringlets, and the shop assistant adorned her crown with a tiara to match the dress.

'You are absolutely stunning," Mom says.

This is the thirty-sixth dress Chanel has tried on.

Yes, I've been counting them. I've also been tallying the different adjectives Mom uses while I take notes in the legal pad she foisted on me when we arrived. Stunning, fifteen times. Beautiful, forty-two. Gorgeous is in the lead with a whopping sixty-six. I wasn't quite sure how to categorize and tally Mom's various squeals of excitement, so those remain uncounted.

She makes one of those sounds now. 'He won't be able to take his eyes off of you."

Until someone else sinks her claws into him, I think to myself.

Mom gives me a sharp elbow to the side, almost as if she can read my mind. 'Doesn't your sister look gorgeous, Evangeline?"

I subtly make a tally mark next to the letter g in the notepad and say, 'Yes, absolutely," with all the enthusiasm I can manage to feign.

Which is quite a lot. Whenever I start feeling dismal about this shopping trip, I let my mind wander to last night. Carter tied me up and put me on my hands and knees on my bed, then alternated spanking me and fucking me until I screamed out an orgasm, calling him 'Daddy."

It had been fucked up. Filthy. Marvelous.

Mom gives me an approving smile. She obviously can't read my mind, or she would be freaking out right now.

Chanel needs a break because apparently being the center of attention is exhausting. So we wander through other areas of the bridal shop and Chanel ecstatically points out every item they have in stock. I start to notice a theme among the goods. Bride and groom, bride and bride, groom and groom. Happy couple. Everything is geared for two people.

Not three.

It shouldn't bother me. It shouldn't even be on my radar. But if Carter and Leonard like to share, and if, say, I fell for them, what would that mean? That kind of relationship isn't really done around here. Hillside is an older community and I just don't think a throuple would be accepted. Not just here, but all over—it isn't really done.

Add in the age gap, and I think whatever I have with Carter and what I could've had with Leonard is over before it's begun.

Chanel gets a second wind and we go to another bridal store for more dresses. While Mom's head of red hair and Chanel's head of brown bob up and down among the different displays, I wander off to the side. I see couples-related items everywhere. All the framed wedding photos on the walls are selling the same marriage story: two people fall in love and commit to one another.

Mom takes us out to lunch, and she must be in a good mood because she doesn't even make a comment about how I should watch my figure when I opt for mashed potatoes instead of salad to go with my salmon.

When lunch is over, I get out my phone to order a ride home.

'What are you doing?" Mom asks.

'Ordering a car." I hold up my phone, showing her the app.

'Nonsense," she says. 'We'll drop you off."

I'd really rather she didn't, but I wouldn't mind saving my money, and the excursion has been okay so far. No drama. I've kept my mouth shut whenever Mom waxed poetic about how great Thomas and Chanel are together. Remembering everything Carter did to me last night helped immensely.

When we get to Dad's house, Chanel says, 'Hey, I gotta pee and I really can't wait."

I barely manage to keep from sighing. I need to put space between them and me, the sooner the better.

'Come on in," I say, resigned. I know they won't stay long because Chanel went on and on about some concert Thomas is taking her to, and she wants lots of time to get ready.

While Chanel uses the bathroom, Mom looks around the living room again, frowning.

'He always did have poor taste," she says, eyeing the Japanese woodblock prints on the far wall. 'I was so glad to see all of these paintings go, after the divorce. I can't believe he still likes this garbage."

Irritation flares in my chest. She comes here and insults him, like she still has that right? 'Mom, you can't talk badly about Dad here, in his own house."

Mom sniffs. 'He's not here."

'I don't care. This is still his place, and what's more, he's a good guy. I don't want to hear about this from you. Vent to someone else. I'm your daughter, but I'm also his daughter."

'Well." She stops herself, puts on a brittle smile. 'Move back home, honey. We miss you. We'll be a family again."

'Not happening. Please don't keep asking me this. I went on the big wedding gown shopping trip, and I'm helping plan the wedding. Isn't that enough?"

'It's just?—"

At that moment, Leonard's rental car rumbles up the driveway. He has to maneuver around Mom's car to get into the garage, but he manages.

'Who's that?" Mom asks.

'That's Leonard." When she looks confused, I add, 'Dad's stepbrother?"

She sniffs. 'Oh. I remember him. Chanel! Are you nearly done?"

Interesting. She doesn't want to hang around when Leonard comes in. They must have met, maybe at her and Dad's wedding long ago.

Chanel is already coming down the hall, and Mom ushers her out just as the kitchen door opens and Leonard steps inside.

'Evangeline?" Leonard says. 'You home? Who's here with you?"

'Bye, darling," Mom says as the door closes behind them.

I lock up after them and lean against the wall, taking some weight off of my ankle. It doesn't hurt much, but walking around all day hasn't done me any favors.

Leonard appears from around the kitchen, his brow furrowed and those brown eyes curious.

'It was just my mom and Chanel," I say. 'We went wedding dress shopping today."

'Are you fucking serious?"

I hold up a hand. 'Don't judge me, okay? I'm trying to keep my family together through a shitty situation."

He leans back and says, 'I'm not judging you. I'm judging them. Fucking assholes, asking this of you."

'I agreed to it," I say.

'They shouldn't have asked."

'You're right, but I don't want to talk about this right now," I say.

He looks me up and down, then stops at my ankles. 'You hurting?"

'Not really. Just going to rest for a bit."

'I have to shower off the construction site. Give me a shout if you need anything."

'Thanks." I watch as he walks up the stairs, his powerful legs moving him forward. There's a subdued strength to him, a quiet command. I squeeze my thighs together and tell myself I'm happy to mess around with Carter and I don't need anything or anyone else.

But I know what it's like to have the two of them in a room together, their focus entirely on me.

Maybe I'll go take a 'nap" while thinking of the two of them and using a vibrator. I'll take myself on a trip down memory lane, straight into Club Vice and that upstairs room they took me to. Only in my fantasy, the three of us are truly together, both men fucking me.

Closing my eyes, I allow the scene to play out.

Maybe, in my fantasy, I'd let one of them take my ass.

Before I can discard that thought as far too dirty for even a fantasy, the doorbell rings. I freeze in place. If it's Mom, I'm going to throw a fit. Leonard's right. I'm so over her treatment, all of it. I just want my mother to love me but I don't know if that's ever going to happen, no matter how much I debase myself for Chanel's benefit.

It isn't Mom standing on the front porch, though—it's Thomas. His hazel eyes are hidden behind sunglasses. He's wearing a t-shirt and basketball shorts, and sweating in the late afternoon heat.

'What the fuck are you doing here?" I ask. 'Did Chanel send you? I told her, I'm not moving back home. I told our mom, too."

'Uh, Chanel doesn't know, actually. I wanted to talk to you."

I have to admit to myself, I'm curious what he could possibly have to say, and that curiosity is the only thing keeping me from slamming the door in his face.

I remain in the open doorway, not moving aside to invite him in. 'So, talk."

'Can I come in?"

'Nope."

'Look, Evangeline, I think I made a mistake, and I really just want to sit down and talk with you."

This fucking guy. I can't believe him sometimes. I more firmly block the doorway. 'You can't come in, and I don't want to hear about your mistakes, Thomas."

'What do you mean?" he says. 'When we first broke up, you asked about making it work."

Not my proudest moment. Freshly wounded by the knowledge that he had a sidepiece and the sidepiece was my sister, I'd actually hoped, for a moment, that he would come to his senses and choose me. I had supported him while he searched for a new job after college. I'd supported him when he was drinking too much and needed help cutting back. I'd supported him when he needed me. But when I needed him? He was fucking my sister.

So that moment where I'd wanted to make it work, well, that was utter stupidity and I won't go back to that, ever.

'Thomas, it's over. It was over as soon as you started fucking Chanel—just neither of us knew it yet."

He frowns and looks past me, trying to see inside the house. 'Are you with one of those guys I saw here the other day? That Carter guy?"

He was here the other day? I don't ask about it, though—I don't want to know. 'Who I'm with is none of your business."

'You aren't, then," he says, a sneer curling his upper lip. 'You'd want to rub it in my face if you were."

No, that's something he would do. I don't say it, though. 'Time to go, Thomas."

'Don't be a bitch, Evangeline, just let me come in and talk. You gotta listen to me, babe."

I can't hold back my full-body shudder. 'I don't have to listen to you, and do not call me a bitch and do not call me ‘babe.' You lost that privilege a long time ago."

'We could be together again," he says.

Ew. No. I can picture it—the whole couple relationship sold by the wedding industry. The two of us walking hand in hand along a beach, our pants rolled up to our knees, the wind gathering strands of my blond hair, the sun setting behind us…and I want to hurl.

I'd been worrying about a relationship as a group of three, because it isn't typical. But if being with someone like Thomas makes a typical relationship, then maybe I wasn't cut out to be typical.

He lifts his sunglasses, giving me a glimpse of his eyes, widened to puppy-dog proportions.

Instead of caving, I say, 'Don't you have a concert to take Chanel to?"

His eyes widen even more. 'Oh, shit."

I can't believe I'm still managing his schedule, after we've broken up and he has a new fiancée.

'This conversation isn't over, Evangeline," he says.

'Actually, it is," a deep voice says from behind me. Leonard. I don't turn around to see him, but I can feel the heat of his body all along the back of mine. I can smell the scent of his freshly washed body.

Thomas gapes but puts on a show of machismo and straightens his shoulders. 'Our conversation isn't up to you."

Menace laces Leonard's voice. 'You've insulted her and tried to bully her, and if you can't listen to her firm dismissal and leave of your own volition, I will help you leave."

'I—never mind." Thomas turns around and hurries to his car.

I watch as he gets in, starts the engine, and disappears down the drive. The entire time he goes, I'm hyperconscious of Leonard's body, warm against my back.

He clears his throat, ready to say something, but I spin around and look into his eyes. The fierce protectiveness there soaks into my skin, heating me through and through.

We stare at each other for several beats too long.

'Do it," he finally says. 'Kiss me, Trouble. I dare you."

And when he cups my cheek, I'm lost. I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his.