Page 26 of Carver’s Craving

“Fuck.”

I cocked my head.

He showed me the screen.

The name Father appeared. Interesting that it didn’t say Dad. Then I read the message.

—Steven, you must come home right now. I demand it. —

I blinked. Tried to reconcile everything. “Your name is Steven?” My heart sped up and my palms got clammy.

“Yep. And my father’s demands are…too much, you know? He’s always on my case. Here I am, four thousand klicks away and I’m still being harassed. I should block them all.” He winced. “Except if something happens, then I really would want to know.”

“Your name is Steven?” You sound like a broken record.

“Uh, yeah. Did you not know that? I mean, I get really pissy when people use that name. Even Baxter and Frank know—” He winced. “—knew…not to use it. Even to bug me. It’s a hard never. I’m not that kid. And I never will be again. You know?”

I almost asked, again, if his name was really Steven.

Because, in a torrent of memories, Friday night hit me like the freight train passing by the diner right now. The one shaking the windows. Steven. The guy I’d spent several hours with—had fucked into the mattress—had been Steven. His voice had sounded familiar. And when I’d seen Styx yesterday, a memory had definitely stirred. I’d chalked it up to having known him from before. The odds of him being the guy in the hotel had just been too astronomical to contemplate. Now, though, I was one hundred percent certain.

“Are you okay?” Styx’s gaze narrowed. “You don’t look so good.” He waved his hand. “Sorry, that came out wrong. You always look good. But…did something just happen?” His concern washed over me like waves from the ocean.

I cleared my throat. “I’m fine. Really. Just…having a moment. You know?”

“Not really. If you need a break, or something, I can totally run to the washroom. In fact, why don’t I—”

“Carver?” A bright voice, quite familiar to me, caught me off guard. I turned to find not just Finn, but Ulysses as well. Knowing Finn would insist on a hug, I slid from the booth. “Hey.”

As expected, Finn hauled me in for a big hug while saying, “I haven’t seen you in a couple of weeks. Where have you been keeping yourself? Staying home too much, I bet.” He released me. Then clearly spotted Styx. “Hey, sorry to interrupt. I’m Finn and this is my husband, Ulysses.”

The study in contrasts between the husbands was much the same as between me and Styx. Ulysses was Black, tall, and had some muscles. Finn had muscles as well, but he was leaner. And as fair-skinned as Styx—although Finn was a redhead while Styx had dark-brown hair.

Ulysses stuck out his hand to Styx. “The quieter one in this relationship.”

Finn and I both snorted. Sure, initially, when one first met Ulysses, he would sit back and take the person’s measure. Once he knew them, though, he could regale them with plenty of tales about the stories he’d covered over his years as a reporter.

Styx rose and took Ulysses’s hand. “Styx.”

Ulysses cocked his head.

“Just Styx.” Who offered up his most winsome smile.

“Hey, there’s a big booth.” Finn pointed to the booth directly across from us. “I’m sure Sarabeth wouldn’t mind if we shared.”

“Finn.” Ulysses eyed his husband. “Maybe they don’t want—”

“Oh, we want.” Styx offered his trademark wicked grin. “I’m loving meeting everyone in this town.” He cast me a beseeching look.

Normally, I would’ve wanted more private time, but we were living together in an isolated cabin. “Sure.”

“And Sarabeth doesn’t have a problem. Just sit quickly, okay? This food is heavy.” She stood just behind the men with a tray laden with full plates.

Finn practically shoved Ulysses into the bigger booth.

Styx grabbed his jacket and his coffee and slid in across from them.

Feeling both railroaded and without an ounce of hope for a return to sanity, I grabbed my coat and coffee and eased to sit next to Styx. Well, this should be interesting.