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“I wanted to discuss it with you first.”
He keeps shoveling, listening.
“I’ve had a chance to be around her for a while now; I don’t expect you to feel the same way after knowing her for a little over a week. I’m not an idiot; I know you can’t fall for her the same way I have in that short of time.”
He grunts, not admitting anything.
“We’ve been riding together a long time—had each other’s back for as long as I can remember. We’ve even shared women ever since I first started fucking...There were the times between us too…” I trail off, not sure which direction to go. It’d help if he’d at least reply more than a grunt.
He nods, listening, but keeps quiet still, digging through the packed dirt.
“I don’t really know what the fuck to say here; at least, not the right thing,” I admit. I’m a man; we don’t discuss feelings like this all the time, if ever. He could be thinking that I’m an idiot right now. Who knows?
Saint pauses, his irises nearly clear as they look over at me, evidently thinking. At least I know he’s calm. If he wasn’t they’d be nearly the same dark shade as my own. “Just tell me what you want in all this.”
Like that’s easy to explain? How in the fuck do I say this without coming off sounding like a selfish prick? I am one, but I don’t need him thinking of me in that sense.
“What I want? Her and you to keep it simple,” I say, being as honest and raw as I can. It’s the truth, right down to the basics of it all. Sure, I know it’s more complicated than just that one sentence.
Scrubbing my hand over my face, I continue. “We’re getting older, and as much as I love pussy, it’s getting old doing the shit we do. I don’t want to be scouring different bars for another chick that may end up being mediocre for the two of us. She fits us—both of us. I want it to be permanent between us three.”
“So, what’s the problem then?” He probes as we push more dirt away and uncover flesh. “Ugh, fuck!” He shields his face with his arm and jumps back.
The smell hits me, and I climb to my feet, stumbling backward as well. It’s disgusting, like a rotted animal.
“I’ll be right back.” Jogging to my bike, I grab the container with the acid in it. I’ll pour it over the body, and it’ll be like it never happened in the first place. She’ll disappear, and I’ll be free once more. They may find a tooth or something, but I doubt anyone will ever look here, to begin with.
“The problem? Keep going,” he repeats when I get close enough to finish our discussion.
Shrugging, I carefully open the container and then pour it, covering as much of the body as possible with the liquid death. “Last thing I want is for it to cause shit between you and me. But I don’t want to give her up, either.”
“Tell me, Sinner, would she be ours or just yours to claim?”
My mouth falls open at his question. I can’t believe he would even consider me being alone without him, an option. “Of course, she’d be both of ours. If I wanted her for myself, I’d have cut you free when you pulled your blade on me.”
“That again? You have to bring it up now when I’m helping you dispose of a body? I thought we were past it already. I was angry, but I was wrong. I fuckin’ own it okay?”
“Case in point, you fucking owe me for spilling my blood!” I complain, gesturing to my ribs, irritated at the painful memory. My side is finally feeling better. It’s not completely healed up, but the gash isn’t so bad anymore. I can ride again without feeling as if I’m getting mini stabs ripping through my skin.
“You survived,” he replies deadpan, not wanting the reminder. This is a prime example of why I need a woman in my life too. I crave just an ounce of compassion and worry that Saint can’t provide, but Jude does so without skipping a beat.
After a tense moment, I whisper, “Do you even want to be with me Saint?” The words come out nearly broken with their implication.
“How the fuck can you even ask me that shit, Sinner?” He shakes his head. “I’ve always wanted you, from the moment I witnessed you broken and bloody. I made you mine. There was no other option at that moment, and I’d never go back to change it.”
He pulls a flask free from his pocket, yanks the bandana down and takes a swig. Wiping his lips, he sighs, using the same hand to run through his wild hair. The man bun thing he wears came loose on the ride. “You’re the only thing I’ve wanted for most of my life,” he finishes and puts the alcohol away. “I know you need her too.”
“And it won’t bother you if I have you both?”
He shakes his head again. “No. I want you to be happy, and with her in the mix, I know you will be.”
“But will you be happy, too, Saint?”
“I’ll have you, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then you don’t have to worry about me, Sinner.”
