Page 72 of Unconventional


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He flung the door open, and jumped down. I followed suit, and met him in front of the garbage pile… which wasn’t really garbage at all.

“Oh…” I wrinkled my nose as a sharp, acrid smell reached my nostrils. “Oh Noah…”

My lover stood at the edge of the blacked debris, which was looking more and more like what it actually resembled: the smoldering remnants of what once was a trailer.

“Oh honey, I’m sorry.”

I went to take his hand, but it was impossible. And that’s because both my lover’s hands were curled into tight, white-knuckled fists.

“No. Don’t be,” he grunted, trying to choke back whatever emotions he actually felt. His eyes were cold now. His jaw, clenched tight enough to shatter teeth.

“Instead, be sorry for the man who did this.”

Forty-Three

MADISON

“Everything?” Chase exclaimed. “You mean all of it? It’s all gone?”

“Yes,” said Noah.

“When?”

“I’m not sure. But sometime last night.”

Noah’s last few words made me feel unexpectedly guilty. Last night the guys had stayed over — all three of them at once. After being out in the sun all day, we’d just all fallen dead asleep.

It had been amazing too, just cuddling. Snuggling up against one lover and then another, snoring the night away while lying lazily in their arms.

And now…

Now their lack of vigilance had cost them their trailer. And not just that, but everything inside it. All their possessions — everything they ever owned. Noah and Chase had nothing but the tools they’d left here on the grounds, and the clothes on their backs.

“Tell me more about this… Killian,” said Julian. He crossed two big tattooed forearms before setting them down on the table. “And start from the beginning.”

Noah looked at Chase for a moment, then started in on the whole sordid tale. It was one I’d heard already, during the ride back. He’d told me everything, from Chase’s gambling problem to the significant debt he still had with Killian, the owner of the Normandy Inn.

“So this guy was your bookie?” asked Julian.

“Yeah,” Chase admitted sullenly.

“For how long?”

“Too long.”

“And what do you owe him?”

Chase shrugged uncomfortably. “Thirty two hundred or so.” He shook his head. “Maybe closer to thirty five, now. It keeps changing, keeps going up.”

“The vig.”

“Yeah.”

I knew a little about gambling. I’d had a boyfriend from Laguna who’d gotten into some trouble over a few poker games, and got in way over his head. He bragged about how his rich father bailed him out though. That part was wholly unattractive.

“What did he say the last time you went to see him?” asked Julian. He pointed to Chase’s eye.

“I didn’t get to see him. His guys dealt with me first.”

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