“Yeah.” Cole drops his head against the back of the couch.
“But you didn’t,” Trace says. “You stopped dancing. Stopped visiting the homeless shelter. Lost weight. Then you sold the one thing I thought you’d never let go.”
My house. Sharp pain pricks the backs of my eyes. “The only reason you know all that is because you invaded my privacy. Again.”
“I don’t regret that. Nor do I regret sedating you and bringing you here. But I am deeply sorry for the distress it caused you.”
My chest hiccups with a choppy inhale.
“You’re unhappy, Danni.” Cole rises from the couch and prowls toward me. “And you’ll be even more miserable in Florida.”
“What makes you think I won’t be miserable here?”
“I’m not saying it won’t be hard.” He stops beside me and rests his hands on his hips. “If you had to choose between us right now, could you?”
My heartbeat explodes, and I look away.
“I take that as a no,” Cole says softly.
“That’s why I need to leave.” Dread coils in my belly. “I can’t do this again.”
“You don’t get to walk away,” Trace says in a deep, unflinching voice.
“You’re going to stick it out.” Cole matches his tone. “You have a decision to make, and you’re going to finish this. Because if you don’t, if you forfeit your greatest chance at happiness, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
I know he’s right, but… “What you’re suggesting is insane.” I lean my head back against the window and stare at the ceiling. “We can’t all stay under the same roof. We tried that the first week you came home, and it ended in a bloody brawl in the backyard.”
“We worked some things out since then.” Trace rests his fingertips in the pockets of his jeans.
“Like what?” I narrow my eyes.
“The only way we’ll survive this is if we’re honest and open with one another. No more secrets. No more sneaking around.” Trace glowers at Cole. “No more fistfights.”
“Only an hour ago, you were aiming a gun at Cole’s chest.”
“You’re right. It was an unreasonable way to handle an argument. I guess you could say we’re a work in progress.”
With my back to the windows, they cage me in with the width of their shoulders while leaving a foot of breathing space between us. But that invisible space is tenuous and airless, waiting to be erased.
“We’re going to try this again.” Cole folds his arms across his chest. “And this time, we’re doing it our way.”
I love when they talk in terms of we, like they’re a team. Using it in this context, however, implies I have no say in whatever they’re planning. It makes me tense. “If you intend to team up against me—”
“Your way didn’t work.” Impatience seeps into Cole’s voice. “When you were with one of us, the other one was left alone to stew and fester in jealousy.”
My mind jumps to a threesome, triad, or whatever it’s called when two men share a woman. Except they would never be okay with that, and I don’t think I could handle it emotionally. On the surface, it sounds like a dream, but the reality wouldn’t be good for them. Their happiness is more important than a sexual fantasy.
“What are you proposing?” I swallow.
“Not what you think.” Trace pulls in a slow breath and releases it. “Look, Cole and I have gone through a range of emotions and expectations since he returned. In the beginning, jealousy drove most of our actions. Then came the rivalry. Suspicion. Bitterness. When you left, we reached a point of resoluteness.”
“Meaning?” I hold my breath.
“We understand the stakes,” Cole says. “I know he’s not going to give up and vice-versa. And we know the ultimate decision is completely out of our hands. We’re going to stay in his house, focus on you, and when arguments arise, we’ll talk through it. Together.”
It sounds wonderfully ideal. And unrealistic. How can I spend time with one while the other one is present? They haven’t mentioned sex, but it’s a complexity we can’t avoid. It’ll start with meaningful glances and subtle gestures of affection. Then it’ll build and invade until it refuses to be ignored. I tried the celibacy thing, the co-dating thing, the bed-hopping thing. I’ve resisted, surrendered, sneaked around, and run away. None of it worked. Because I’m right back where I started.
They’re proposing that we stay here together, under the same roof, until I make a decision. The difference this time is better communication. I can get behind that, but it doesn’t solve the problems we had before.