Tia

I pace the living room, waiting for Fallon and Banks to bring Giles home but they’re taking longer than expected. Emerson is still gone on a mission, Huxley is God knows where, and Salinger has slunk off to his bedroom, his mood once again volatile.

It’s frustrating, his attitude. Earlier in the hospital, we kissed like we were in a fevered dream, frenzied and passionate. It was so hot, it was exhilarating. It was more than I imagined. But then the moment we return to an empty house, it’s ice cold between us. Or actually, not even that. It’s just nothing.

Needing to do something with my hands, I pull out the recipe book from Emerson’s mom. Flipping the pages, I run my fingers over the comments his mother made in the margins.

Meatloaf: Emerson’s Favorite Dinner. Complete with a smiley face. Next to a recipe for strawberry rhubarb pie, she has made a note: Em’s Birthday Pie! I feel a pang in my chest, missing Emerson.

If he were home, he’d sweep into this kitchen and give me a reason to smile. He wouldn’t press me about the worry lines etched on my face, instead, he’d wrap his arms around me and suggest we make dinner together. We’d pull out ingredients and make a mess of things, laughing the entire time. Just being with him would calm the nerves that have been coursing through me all day ever since I saw my father.

The memory causes my head to pound. It’s all too much. I’ve risked so much coming here and it feels more complicated by the minute. And then there is the pregnancy test I was forced to take. I press a hand to my flat belly wondering what the results will read. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath as fear washes over me.

I try to concentrate on this damn cookbook as a headache gets worse the harder I try to push it away. Flipping the pages, I land on a cheesy potato and venison casserole that I think I can manage. I begin assembling it, knowing that I want a meal on the table when the men get home. God knows, Giles deserves something warm from the oven after being tortured in prison on my behalf.

I dice potatoes and fry up some meat, trying not to think about the pain he’s been through. I focus on the recipe at hand and it helps to have something to concentrate on other than my own family’s plight.

The oven preheats, and I grate cheddar cheese, feeling like I’m finally getting a handle on cooking basics. In some ways, cooking is like science. Follow the steps and you can predict the results. Still, as I mix the prepared ingredients together in a baking dish, I find the pain of my headache is now unbearable. The day has been so damn long.

I slide the casserole into the oven, sighing as I decide to find some ibuprofen before the headache turns into a migraine. Rummaging around in my bathroom, I realize I don’t have any. No one is home except Salinger, so I knock on his bedroom door, knowing he retreated there when we got home.

“Sal?” There’s no answer. Turning the knob, I let myself into his room. “Salinger?” I ask again, stepping toward the bathroom. The door is ajar, and I see the shower is running. His shower is an open one, no curtain, no glass door.

And I see Sal, his hand fisted around his cock.

My pounding headache is replaced with a pounding heart. Salinger is naked, his hand pumping hard, water running in rivulets over his chest. He’s ripped, a ladder of abs, followed by a V leading my eyes lower and lower until…

“Tia?” he asks, seeing me standing in the doorway with my mouth agape, my body stirring in a way that makes me dizzy.

“Oh, I…” I step back, knocking into a towel rack, licking my lips like a lovelorn fool. Salinger though has a cocky grin on his face. That self-assured smile that I haven’t seen in so long. It looks good on him.

My eyes fall to his dick. It’s as if I’m physically unable to look away. His cock is… I swallow. …hard. Reaching for a towel behind me, I hand it to him, needing him to cover himself. Looking at his length is making me woozy.

“You okay?” he asks, not wrapping himself in the towel, but instead he runs the terry cloth over his broad shoulders, his stubbled chin, and his thick head of hair.

All the while his cock is at attention, his big knob aimed at me.

I clench my pussy wondering if he has any idea what he is doing to me. My staring at his manhood should be embarrassing, but he’s still smiling, drying off, watching me as I stare at the very thing he has been holding back.

Salinger is hung.

“You okay, Tia?”

“I was just...” I lick my lips again as he steps out of the shower, walking toward me. “I had a headache. And I needed some… relief.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “You came here because you needed to be relieved?”

I nod, a sigh escaping me.

“What kind of relief did you have in mind?” he asks.

I press a hand to my neck, feeling flushed and intoxicated. It’s the steaming bathroom, that’s what it is. Nothing more. Nothing… but then my eyes are back on his cock and I don’t have a headache anymore, I only have pent-up passion.

“Tylenol?” he asks with a grin. “Is that what you want?”

My body flushes with heat as he takes another step closer. “I...”

I want him, so damn badly. My body aches with the need for him. When he moves closer, I place my palms on his abs, my fingers spark with the electricity between us.

“What do you want, Tia?”

“You,” I croak. “I want you, Sal--”

His mouth crashes down on mine, and his warm, naked body presses against me, trapping me against the wall.

I whimper, fingers dancing across his flesh, as he tugs at my shirt, desperately.

“Tia?” Fallon’s voice shouts from downstairs.

“Fuck,” Sal mutters, pressing his forehead against mine. “They’re back.”

My body is still humming, and Sal’s hard erection is pressed against my belly. Giles is home. That should be my only concern, but I hate leaving Salinger this way. When I feel like we were finally about to make progress with our relationship.

It’s not just sex. Sure, it’s a huge part of what he’s been holding back. But it’s also his trust - his heart.  

“I should go,” I whisper.

He nods and moves back slightly.

I press my lips to his lightly before ducking away and hear him mutter a string of curses behind me.

A small smile tugs at my lips, because after that kiss and the one earlier today, I have no doubt that he wants me. I need to go to him soon.

But all thoughts of Salinger are gone when I see Giles limping into the house on crutches, Banks by his side.

Fallon gives me an odd look when I reach the bottom of the stairs but I ignore him, and rush to Giles, wrapping my arms around his large chest. Tears stream down my cheeks, and he chuckles.

“Did you miss me?”

“You have no idea how much.” I place my palms on his dark red beard, which has recently been trimmed and kiss him. His hands are occupied with the crutches, but I can feel his body wanting to pull me against him.

Banks coughs. “Let the man sit down, Tia.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, pulling back, and seeing the fatigue in Giles’ face. “Are you hungry? I made dinner.”

All three men moan, and I toss them each a dirty look. “What?”

“When’s Emerson coming back?” Banks asks, a dig at my cooking abilities.

“I’m not that bad. And I think you’re going to like--”

Almost on cue, the fire alarm starts blaring and a gray smoke billows out of the kitchen door.

“Shit,” I cry, racing into the kitchen and pulling out the burnt blackened casserole. “The venison.”

Deep chuckling follows behind me, and all I can do is laugh with them and allow Fallon and Banks to take over preparing a new meal. We spend the next hour together, talking, laughing, flirting with easy touches. Even Banks is relaxed. Giles is home and that alone lightens the mood significantly. But more than that, it’s like we are all remembering to breathe after holding our breath for so damn long.

Salinger is quiet when he comes down and I see our secrets in his eyes. The ones he’s keeping for me. I’ll tell my husbands. No more hiding. I’ll tell them who I am. Who my father is. Who my ex-fiance is. I’ll even tell them about the test that I had done today.

But not tonight. Emerson needs to be here. But a wave of hope washes over me at the thought of being completely transparent for the first time since I ran away from my father’s home.

Tonight is about celebrating. Giles is home. And we’ve both been cleared of all charges thanks to Salinger’s mother’s mysterious pull. Yes, dangers still lurk around the corner, closer than I’d thought. But with Salinger’s mom on our side, we may just beat the evil that would tear our family apart.

If I’m pregnant.

I let out a small, shaky breath, and Salinger frowns when he catches me like he can read my thoughts. I give him a small smile, one that’s meant to reassure. But then I’m being swept up in Fallon’s arms, his mouth on my neck, and his laugh rumbling against my skin with some joke I hadn’t heard.

I love these men so damn much.

If the risks weren’t so great, I’d probably be excited about the possibility of a baby.

Alcohol flows freely among the men, but I abstain, just in case. And their laughter and stories grow boisterous. Huxley comes home and is quick to take up the mood. And after dinner, we all retreat to the study.

My head still aches, but I want to be with my husbands.

I sit on the lounge with my back against Giles’ chest and listen to one of Huxley’s stories. Something about a map and a broken compass and I miss the punchline because I’m so lost in the moment of being here, safely with my husbands. The only person missing is Emerson. But he’ll be back soon. And we’ll all be together. Safe.

Across the room, I see Salinger glance down at his phone, his features tightening when he reads whatever name pops up. He’s still sober, as he barely touched the glass of whiskey he’s been sipping on all night.

And I know why. He’s waiting on the results of my earlier test.

His chest rises and falls on a heavy breath before he answers the call and moves to the other room.

I follow him, my throat tight, fingers numb with the possibility.

By the time I find Sal in the living room, he’s just ended the call, and when he turns to me, his face is pale.

I suck in a shaky breath.

I’m pregnant. I can see it in his eyes.

“Tia...” He doesn’t move. It’s like he’s cemented in place.

“Just tell me.” I need to hear him say it.

But I’m not prepared for the words that come out of his mouth, bringing the whole world tumbling back on top of us. “It’s Emerson. His ship went down in the Bering Sea.”