Just Between Us: MMF Bisexual Romance Page 6

  But even through the guilt, I can’t deny that last night had been…perfect. I’d felt this level of fulfillment that I could scarcely even fathom, let alone try to describe. It felt right, like the missing parts of me were finally all together for the first time, pieces I didn’t even realize were missing.

  I love them both, that much I can feel. But what does that mean? Does that mean choosing between them? Or what about their own connection? How did that work? Was it legal to have a relationship with a stepsibling? Or were they even still considered stepsiblings, now that Jackson’s dad was a widower?

  Every question that pops into my head just brings another question on its heels, none of them with answers, until my head is roaring with overwhelming confusion and a fucking hurricane of emotions.

  I need a shower. Clean up, clear my head. I trudge into the bathroom and crank on the water. Rather than waiting for it to warm up, I just jump right into the chill of the spray, gritting my teeth. It helps, though, creating such a shock to my system that fries the tangled mess of thoughts in my brain and eliminates my ability to process anything other than the sensation of the icy droplets slicing over my skin.

  But slowly, it starts to warm, and I start to relax a little. Once it’s warm enough, I start soaping up. After the initial shock, it feels a little like I just rebooted my brain, and it helps. The panicked, racing thoughts seem more manageable under the spray.

  I don’t know why I’m so fucking terrified to admit that I might identify as anything other than straight. It’s not like I’ve ever given a shit what anyone thinks of me.

  I mean, fuck, my younger sister Lori came out as a lesbian when she was 13. My parents never treated her any differently, and her prom picture with her high school girlfriend still hangs proudly in my parents’ hallway, and her new fiancée was welcomed with open arms at every holiday, and my mother proudly refers to Kira as her daughter-in-law, even though the girls haven’t even set a date yet.

  And it’s not like I’m worried about work, either. So what is it holding me back?

  I stick my head under the spray, rinsing shampoo from my hair and soap from my skin when it hits me. There’s nothing. The only one that’s holding me back is me. Because the only thing keeping me from him is the fear of things going tits-up and losing him for good. Which is always a possibility, no matter what happens.

  Shit, I risked the same damn thing when I started dating Veronica. He could have decided that I was an asshole for going after her and told me to fuck off right then and there.

  But this feels different, somehow. This isn’t just risking it all, this is risking everything and exposing my soft underbelly while I do it, being completely and utterly vulnerable to the one person who knows me better than anyone else.

  And even if I’m willing to risk all of that, where does that leave Veronica?

  Despite the fact that I’ve had these conflicted feelings for Jackson since I was a fucking teenager, I can’t deny the connection I have to Veronica. We just clicked from the moment we’d met.

  I let out a groan of frustration and wrench the faucet off, throwing back the shower curtain and reaching for a towel.

  When I’ve dried off and trudged back out into the bedroom, I rummage through my drawers for some clothes. Unfortunately, in the process, I manage to brush against my keys, and they clatter to the floor. I hear a little moan from my bed.

  I glance over and see Veronica sitting up, rubbing at her eyes. Her dark hair is a wild tangle and the sheet falls away from her bare skin, revealing the perky swell of her tits. I see the mark of a love bite on one of them and for a brief moment, I feel this smug little surge of pride.

  But at the same time, I see Jackson stirring in the bed beside her and I feel those conflicted feelings bubbling back up.

  “Mmmph…” Jackson grumbles, stretching and blinking slowly. “Morning.”

  “Morning,” Veronica replies with a giggle, “Who’s the sleepyhead now?”

  The two of them are bathed in the golden sunlight streaming in through the window. Tangled nude in my sheets, with patterns of light strewn across their skin, they look like a work of art.

  All I want to do is dive back into that bed with them. But no matter how much I tell myself I’m being an idiot, I’m still seized with old familiar fears.

  “Trevor? Everything ok?” Veronica asks, and I realize I’ve been staring at them for a while.

  “Listen, I think we need to talk,” I say slowly.

  Veronica visibly winces. “Nothing good ever comes after those words,” she sighs.

  “It’s about last night. Listen, guys, I’m sorry,” Veronica recoils at the words as if I’d slapped her, “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  My gaze flits over to Jackson and there’s a sadness in his eyes that I’m not expecting. I can practically feel his disappointment, a tangible creature sitting between us. “So you’re telling us last night was just a mistake?” Veronica asks, and there’s a flinty edge to her voice.

  “Yes. I mean, no! I just-“

  “No,” Veronica gets to her feet, “It’s fine, I get it.”

  Her dress from the day before is draped over the back of a chair, and she strides over and scoops it up, wriggling into it quickly.

  “Veronica, I didn’t mean it was a mistake,” I try again, but she looks up at me, tears glittering in her eyes.

  “Just don’t,” she says softly, “I don’t want to hear some eleventh-hour apology because now you regret what we did.”

  “I didn’t-“ I reach out to touch Veronica’s arm and she jerks away from me.

  I know she’s upset, and I get it. But damn it, why won’t she just fucking listen?

  “Veronica, just hear him out,” Jackson protests.

  She shakes her head. “No, I don’t want to stand here and listen to some little speech about how last night was great, but we crossed a line and now we all have to go back to pretending everything is normal and we’re all just friends. Maybe you two can do that, but I can’t.”

  Heat flares in my face. She’s right. While I’m loath to admit it, the words she’s throwing in my face aren’t too far off from the kinds of things that had been running through my mind.

  “If you guys regret this, that’s one thing, but I’m not letting you cheapen it,” she continues, shaking her head, “Because last night…” her voice wavers and she clears her throat, “Last night actually fucking meant something to me, and I’m not going to let anyone take that away from me. Not even you.”

  With that, she brushes past me and out of the room.

  “Veronica-“ I start to follow her, but a hand on my shoulder stops me.

  Jackson has gotten up and stands behind me. “Just let her go for now,” he says softly.

  “It wasn’t-“ I sigh, “You understand, right?”

  “Honestly, Trevor, no, I don’t,” Jackson says, to my surprise.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know why you’ve been holding back all these years,” he informs me, “I don’t know why you made a move on me and then ran away and started acting weird with me. I don’t know why you refuse to let yourself actually be happy with me or anyone else.”

  It’s the kind of familiar blunt honesty I’m used to getting from Jackson, but he’s never laid it out on the table like this. “Jackson…”

  “I’m not trying to tell you that I’m your soulmate or anything here, Trevor, but goddamnit, you know I’m in love with you, and I’ve been in love with you for a long fucking time,” he tells me, his dark eyes roaming my face while he speaks.

  “I know,” I admit, and I hate that they’re the first words out of my mouth. Quickly, I go on. “I think I’ve always known. And you’re right. I’ve been holding back, and the truth is that I don’t really know why either.”

  Saying it out loud feels like a weight off my shoulders, a burden I can finally share, and Jackson reaches down and cups my cheek in his hand. “You don’t always have to have all of t
he answers. You’re allowed to take some time to figure shit out, you know,” he tells me.

  I hadn’t really thought about it like that, but he’s right. I’ve always gotten frustrated when I can’t put something into neat little boxes, be they physical or mental, and honestly, maybe that’s what’s at the heart of what’s been holding me back.

  I’m too afraid to let loose, let wild, upend all those little boxes and just give in to the chaos that life brings.

  “You don’t have to analyze everything to death, Trev,” he tells me, “Life is about what you feel, what you experience, not how you choose to label it.”

  Part of me wants to ask him what that means, but it occurs to me that that’s exactly what he means. I don’t need to know what’s going to happen next. I just need to live it. So, rather than asking where we go from here, I simply nod. “Ok.”

  I look inside myself, trying to see what I want, to listen to his advice and just fucking live, and I know what I have to do. “Let’s go get our girl back.”

  Chapter 11

  Veronica

  It feels like déjà vu, stepping into the house again. It’s quiet, even though Keith’s truck is sitting in the driveway and I know he’s home.

  He must be upstairs, and I’m grateful. I tiptoe up to my room and pick out some clean clothes before slipping into the bathroom. Peeling off my clothes and stepping under the hot spray immediately makes me feel a little more human.

  All of the sweat, all of the dirt, all of the tears from the day before sluice down my body and swirl down the drain, and I try to imagine all of my emotions draining right along with them.

  But despite my best efforts, I can’t scrub my feelings away.

  I felt like an idiot. I should never have thrown myself at them like I did. No wonder Trevor had apologized for it.

  Apologized. Just the thought of it makes my stomach churn. It made me feel dirty, like they were ashamed of me.

  And at the same time, I understood. I’d been like a bull in a china shop yesterday, bouncing off of everything and causing a massive heap of chaos. But the idea of hearing it from Trevor’s mouth, hearing him tell me that it was over and that it had been a mistake, was more than I was equipped to handle right now.

  Or maybe I was all wrong. Maybe it had nothing to do with me. Clearly there was something between the two of them, and maybe I was the one standing in the way.

  That idea is easier for me to handle, somehow. Maybe because remembering the two of them last night, the way they’d touched each other, kissed each other, immediately lights a fire under my skin. Maybe there’s just part of me that would be happy with them having each other.

  That’s how it’s supposed to be with someone you love, right? You’re supposed to want what’s best for them, no matter what? There’s that old saying about letting go of something you love. I guess I’ve just never been in this position before.

  It’s a shitty place to be. My heart feels like it’s being torn in a thousand directions, and that turmoil is just another layer on top of the grief that’s been carving a hole in my chest.

  I finish my shower and with a sigh, I wrench off the faucets and reach for my towel. My body might feel better now, clean and refreshed, but my mind is every bit the mess it was before.

  I dry off and get dressed before padding downstairs. Keith has made his way down as well, and he’s sitting at the kitchen table, eyes locked on his coffee cup.

  “Morning.”

  He looks up, and I’m relieved to see that it looks like he’d finally gotten a little sleep the night before. “Morning. You ok? I was worried when you just disappeared after the funeral, but Jackson told me he was with you.”

  I feel a stab of guilt for making him worry. “Yeah, I just…”

  “Yeah,” Keith nods, finishing my sentence for me without needing to fill in the words.

  He understands.

  “Loss and grief are strange animals,” he muses, “They can bring some people together, tear others apart. But no matter how they impact you, it’s undeniably a living, growing entity.”

  I listen, surprised. This kind of emotional outpour isn’t something I’m used to from Keith.

  He goes on: “It stays with you. I can say, it gets easier with time, but it never really goes away.”

  I nod. I may not have a lot of experience with loss, but what little I have meshes with his words. “It makes you do crazy shit,” I add with a sigh.

  He looks at me. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I shake my head. “No, but thanks.”

  Keith continues to stare at me, and when I meet his gaze, I swear he peers right into my eyes and reads my tangled-up mess of a mind like a book. “You mind if I give you some advice?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do the crazy thing,” he says, “Do the thing that scares you.”

  “Isn’t that kind of the opposite of normal parent advice? Aren’t you supposed to steer me away from reckless shit?” I ask with a laugh.

  The corners of Keith’s lips curl up in a small smile. “I’m not trying to parent here. You’re a grown woman now, Veronica, and I don’t need to tell you how to live your life. Not that I feel like I need to, I trust you to make good choices, you’re a smart woman.”

  I’m deeply touched by the compliment, and I let him continue: “What I’m saying is, we all only get one shot at this. Life’s too short, and you never know what’s going to happen. So go out there, do the crazy thing.”

  “What if it blows up in my face?”

  “Well, sweetheart, that’s part of life, too,” he says with a shrug, “But the thing is, life is going to throw things at you no matter what. Your heart’s going to get broken, you’re going to make mistakes, but those things are going to happen even if you try and keep yourself in a bubble. So why not enjoy the ride?”

  I’d never really thought of it like that. Everyone is always so protective of themselves, guarding their hearts against rejection and pain, but they’re simple facets of life that we can’t avoid.

  “You’re right,” I say softly, “You’re exactly right.”

  He takes a sip of his coffee and nods. “Obviously,” he quips, “I’m always right.”

  I chuckle. “Thanks.”

  I reach across the table and give his hand a squeeze. He smiles at me in return. “I may not be your real dad, Veronica, but you know that I’m always going to love you as my own kid, right?”

  “You’re more of a “real dad” than my sperm donor, Keith, don’t sell yourself short,” I assure him.

  “You know what I mean. I love you, kiddo, and I just want you to know that I’m always here for you. I didn’t get the chance to do that for Jackson, and I’m trying to make up for that with him now, but I don’t want to repeat my mistakes with you. I just want you to be happy, no matter what.”

  A lump swells in my throat and my eyes burn. “I love you, too. Thank you.”

  He smiles at me again and starts to speak, but we’re interrupted by the sound of the front door swinging open. “Veronica?”

  Jackson’s voice. I turn to look, and through the doorway, I can see him stepping into the house, Trevor behind him. “In here,” I call, my heart leaping into my throat.

  I’d made an ass of myself, and I was embarrassed to face them, but the moment they step into the room, it hardly seems to matter. When I see them, I get that same feeling you get when you snuggle down into bed at the end of a long day. When I see them, it feels like coming home.

  Keith looks from me to them, and once again, seems to piece it together without me having to say anything. He drains the last of his coffee and rises to his feet. “I’ve got some errands to run. Do you need anything, Veronica? Jackson?”

  I shake my head. “No, I’m good, Dad, thanks,” Jackson says.

  I think we all know it’s just an excuse to give us some space, but we’ll run with the ruse.

  “Trevor, I-“

  “No,” Trevor says firmly, surprising me,
“You cut me off before, give me a chance to speak.”

  He’s right, and my face flames with embarrassment. I had definitely jumped down his throat, and it had been uncalled for.

  “Look, Veronica, last night was amazing. It was…fuck, it was perfect. I wouldn’t take it back in a million fucking years.”

  “You wouldn’t?” I blurt before I can stop myself.

  “Fuck, no,” he says, “But that doesn’t mean shit’s not complicated. And on top of that, I don’t feel like it’s right to throw this shit at you while you’re trying to deal with everything else.”

  “You didn’t, though,” I remind him, “I asked for this.”

  “You asked for a distraction.”

  “And this isn’t distracting?”

  Jackson snickers and Trevor rolls his eyes, but I can see him fighting a smile. “Not what I meant.”

  “Trevor, I’m a big girl,” I remind him gently, “I’m perfectly capable of saying no.”

  He frowns. “You’d been drinking, and trying to process-“

  “I’d had hours to sober up,” I interrupt, “Trevor, just finish saying what you wanted to say,” I tell him gently, “Stop worrying about me.”

  “Right. Well, I think all three of us have some processing to do, after last night,” he says, “But I also don’t think that we necessarily have to do it alone.”

  “And just what would that mean?” I ask. “You and me? You and Jackson? Or…” I look at Jackson, but I can’t bring myself to speak the words.

  “No,” Jackson interrupts. “All of us. Together.”

  My brow furrows. “Is that…can we do that?”

  “Why can’t we?” Jackson asks, shrugging, “Who the fuck makes the “rules” for love?”

  He’s right. Who’s going to stop us?

  There are no rules for love. The heart wants what it wants, and trying to pretend that we have any control over it is silly.

  “So…are you in?” Trevor asks, his voice laced with nerves and hope.

  In answer, I push away from the table and make my way over to him. I look into his eyes for a long moment before finally dragging his head down to me and pressing my lips against his.