Mason takes another step closer. “We didn’t come to corner you, Janey.”
I let out a quiet breath, my shoulders loosening despite myself. “It kind of feels like that.”
Brookes shakes his head slightly. “Then we’re doing it wrong.”
I look between them, at Mason with his rough edges and restless energy barely held in check, and at Brookes, whose calm nature always seems to make everything around him feel less chaotic.
And just like that, the fight drains out of me.
I don’t even realize I’ve stepped forward until Mason’s hands are on me, warm and solid at my arms, pulling me in close. Brookes steps in behind me, one hand settling at my back. It should feel overwhelming, being caught between them like this, but instead it feels like exactly what I need.
For a moment, I don’t think about what they’re here to tell me, or what they might want. I can’t process what any of this means. I just… let it happen.
My body softens in a way that surprises me, tension slipping loose in a rush as I lean into them. Mason’s chest is warm, and his hand cups the back of my neck in a way that feels protective without asking anything in return. Brookes rests his hands on my hips and bends to press a kiss to my temple.
I close my eyes for long enough to breathe and gather my thoughts.
When I open them again, I feel more centered.
“Okay,” I murmur, pulling back slightly. “Okay… you’d better come inside before you scandalize the neighborhood.”
They follow me in like they’ve visited before, lifting their hats and resting them on the console, looking around at the art on my walls and the photographs lining the shelves. I lead them through to the den, dropping my bag by the door before heading to the fridge. I reach for two beers and a bottle of water, pop the caps, and pass them over.
Mason takes his with a quiet thanks. Brookes’s fingers brush mine as he accepts his, the contact brief but startling. It’s the first time I’ve seen them since we were sweaty and naked and filled with the loose-limbed satisfaction that only a really great fuck can bring.
We settle with Mason on the edge of the sofa, Brookes in the chair opposite, and me somewhere in between, like I don’t quite know where to put myself in my own home.
The silence stretches for a moment, and I wait, wanting to hear what they have to say before anything that might spill from my lips can influence.
Then Mason leans forward, elbows braced on his knees. “We know you didn’t get the chance to tell us yourself.”
I glance at him, warily.
“I’m sorry for that,” he adds. “You should have had that choice.”
That… isn’t what I expected. I look at Brookes to check he’s in agreement.
He nods slightly. “You get to decide how this goes, Janey. Not us. We want you to know that you have options.”
Options?
I settle back against the chair, as the questions and demands I was braced for fail to materialize. ‘Options’ was the last thing I expected them to say. Half of me imagined they’d demand I take care of it. I mean, what man in his right mind wants to deal with a baby from a double team one-night stand? I’m hardly wifey material in their eyes, just a girl to have a role in the hay with to scratch an itch. The other half of me imagined them demanding I keep it. I pictured them being possessive over their child. Maybe wanting to raise it without me, to inherit their ranch and family legacy.
But the tension I’d braced myself for slips away in the face of their sweetness and patience. I wonder what Wade said to them. Did he teach them how to deal with me? Were they ready to fit into either of the roles I’d mapped in my mind until he told them that’d be the wrong tactic?
I love Wade like a brother, and the way he and Caleb have taken in my friend and her son, given them a home, and made them a family makes him honorable and good in my eyes. Still, I know he’s a shrewd businessman, and he could turn that skill to his personal life in a heartbeat.
“For what it’s worth,” Mason continues, “we’re here.Whatever you need.”
I let out a slow breath, my grip tightening slightly on the bottle in my hands.
“This… It’s knocked me sideways,” I admit. “I don’t even know what I need.”
“That’s okay,” Brookes says.
I glance at him.
“You don’t have to figure it out tonight,” he adds. “Or tomorrow. Or even the next day.”
