The Anchor is popping with their annual New Year’s festivities.
Karaoke plays out on the stage. Locals sing along and laugh. Everyone is wearing some kind of decorative glasses or hats and holding on to noisemakers.
Meanwhile, I’m hanging on to the bar as though it’s the last lifesaver on the Titanic. I’ve only had one glass of wine, and I sip it slowly, but it’s hitting me like I’ve had ten.
It’s been a long year, and it’s finally catching up with me.
I should be over the moon. Otto finally agreed to the surgery. It went off without a hitch. Both he and Joan are recovering smoothly. As a silver-lining bonus, I got my little girl back home for the holidays. Sure, she’s spending it healing from her childhood bedroom, but. I’ll take silver linings where I can get them.
Everything turned out like it should. And yet…
I’m exhausted.
Jason breaks through the crowd and comes to stand beside me. He’s just finished a rousing rendition of *NSYNC’s “I Want You Back.”
Nothing—and I mean nothing—can come between Jason and karaoke night.
He gets behind me and winds his arms around my middle. “Are you having fun?”
I smile and shrug. “Eh.”
I’m not about to lie to him. And I don’t have to.
He hunches over to rest his chin on my shoulder. “Do you want to go home, wrap up in blankets, and watch the ball drop on TV instead?”
I gasp, swivel around, and rest my hand on Jason’s chest. “Is this…dirty talk? Because it’s kind of turning me on.”
Jason snorts on a laugh. “Happy New Year, Trouble.”
“Happy New Year, Hotshot.”
Jason presses a kiss to my lips, then a second.
We’re always kissing in doubles these days. Making up for our lost third.
I twist back around so I’m facing the bar. When the bartender looks my way, I wave him down with my wallet. “Can I please close out?”
He shakes his head. “You’re covered.”
I lift an eyebrow at Jason, but he shrugs. “Don’t look at me.”
The bartender slides a piece of paper across the bar. “Guy who paid left this for you.”
I flip the note over.
It says, in tight, familiar handwriting, Meet me at the Lighthouse.
I bite my lip and glance at Jason. “Up for an adventure?”
I hold up the note for him to read. I watch a smile cross his face when it clicks.
“Let’s go,” he says.
I wind my fingers in his and tug Jason out of the bar.
It’s cold outside. Bitterly. The frigid wind curls up from the glass-like ocean and whips off the clifftop, burrowing through my wool layers.
Jason must notice me shivering because seconds later, his jacket hangs over my shoulders, swallowing me.
I squint at him. He’s wearing only his long-sleeved button-up now. He shrugs. “I run hot.”
Liar.
I’m too cold not to take the jacket, though.
The parking lot is lit, but I walk us behind the bar. It’s a short climb to the lighthouse up ahead, but the foot of snow on the ground means it takes twice as long to get there.
The Hannsett Island Lighthouse is old. A tall, red structure that is, for the most part, out of commission. They light it up for the holidays, though. There’s a string of wreaths around the lighthouse, giving it a little holiday spirit.
Normally, it’s locked up. But when I yank the old door, it pops open.
It’s quiet in here. The sound of the door closing echoes up the steep, hollow inside. There are a couple of candlelit lanterns in the entranceway, but most of the dim light emanates from the string lights that crawl up the twisted, spiral staircase.
It’s breath-catchingly romantic in here.
“Hasn’t changed much, has it?” Jason says as he tilts his head to look around.
The last time we were here, Jason, Donovan, and I were just getting to know each other. Well. Re-know each other. Jason, in one of his grand, romantic gestures, had booked the inn at the lighthouse for all three of us. We’d spent the night clinging to each other.
Now, the tables have turned.
“Come on,” I tell Jason. I tug his hand and climb the stairs.
We do loops upward until we’re almost at the top. There’s a blue door here, and when I try it, it opens up and lets us in.
The room is exactly as I remember it. Cottage baby blues with white trim. Seashells and nautical-themed decorations. Giant circular windows overlooking the midnight sea and star-spackled sky. A wide, king-sized bed.
And there he is. Donovan sits on the edge of the bed. He’s New Year’s ready, in a crimson blazer and crisp black button-up. His ruddy brown hair is brushed forward in a stylish swoop. His trimmed beard outlines his jaw. And then there are those items he never, ever removes—his twin leather bracelets, his necklace that carries his parents’ wedding bands, and his own double wedding band snug around his ring finger.
Donovan rarely dresses up. But he’s cleaned up. For us. For this.
That act alone makes my heart flip in my chest.
He’s wringing his hands together, but he stops when he sees us. Those dark brown eyes look up, achingly hopeful. Relieved to see us. And he pulls a small, nervous smile.
“Hey.”
“Dude!” Jason says, crashing through the delicate moment like a bull in a china shop. “This is romantic as shit!”
Donovan winces. “Is it too much?”
“No.” I grin. I step over in front of Donovan and put my hands on his thighs. I lean in and press a small, simple kiss to his mouth. “It’s perfect.”
His shoulders relax a little, but I can tell he’s still on edge. He laces his fingers together again, tenting his hands, then folding them. “Can we…talk for a second?”
Jason, as distractible as a golden retriever, is already stuck on the window, looking out at the beautiful view below.
“Check it out. You can see the Big Dipper.”
I slip my hand into Jason’s. I steer him back, and the two of us sit on a bench across from Donovan.
“Yes,” I say, turning all my attention to Donovan. “We’re listening.”
Donovan clears his throat. I’m certain he’s practiced this moment. But now he’s nervous, like a kid standing on the stage for their first opening night show.
“Okay,” he starts. “Well. First…thanks for showing up. Both of you. I know I’ve been a pain in the ass—”
“You’ve been sad,” I tell him. “You don’t have to apologize for being sad.”
“I’m not,” he says firmly. “This isn’t an apology.” His gaze averts. “Not exactly, anyway. This is me saying…thank you. Thank you for giving me space. Thank you for understanding. Thank you for being the best partners I could ask for. Better than I deserve.
“Yes. I’ve been sad. I spent a lot of this year in pain. And instead of letting you two in…I pushed you away. Both of you.” Donovan’s gaze turns to Jason. “Especially you, Jason.”
Jason shakes his head. “You were just doing what you had to—”
“Wait. Let me finish.” Donovan exhales a deep breath. “Let me just…get this out before I lose my nerve, and then you can say whatever you need. I need you to know that I never stopped loving the two of you. I never stopped believing in us. The three of us. But I did stop loving myself. That changed my relationship with you. And with Otto. I sent our whole family through a loop. It hurt all of us, whether I intended it or not. And for that…I’m sorry.”
He glances down. He sniffs, though I can tell he’s trying to hold it together.
“I don’t expect to come home right away. I know this past month has been on my timeline. But…I’m ready now. I’d love to come back home. On your timeline. I know these things take time, I just…um…”
His voice cracks, and he swallows hard. He’s clearly fighting back the urge to cry.
“I’m ready to be an us again,” he finally gets out. His voice is small. Quiet.
Enough. I sit down next to him and put my hand on his thigh.
“Donovan…the only person keeping you away is you. You could come back anytime. The house is yours. Ours. We want you there.”
Donovan glances at Jason, searching for confirmation. Jason comes and sits down on the other side of Donovan, mirroring me.
“It’s true,” Jason says. “Come home.” Then he knocks his leg against the other man’s. “Asshole.”
Donovan snorts a laugh. As usual, Jason’s inability to stay serious for more than a couple of minutes at a time gives us all the permission to breathe. Before we know it, all three of us are laughing.
“Fuck,” Donovan says and presses the heel of his palm into his eye. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.” I lean forward and Donovan meets me halfway. Our lips touch.
It sends a shiver through me.
When Jason kisses me, I feel loved. Protected. Cared for.
When Donovan kisses me, I feel known.
We’re soul mates—always have been, ever since we were teenagers—and when he deepens the kiss, I feel a very large missing piece of my heart settle back into place.
“I need you,” I whisper against his mouth. His breath shudders against my cheek. Jason kisses the back of his neck, and their fingers entwine on Donovan’s thigh.
For the longest time, the three of us just exchange a language of kisses, inhaling each other. Double hands make easy work of our clothes, and before long, we’re naked, bare skin kissing bare skin kissing bare skin.
The sheets are silky against my back. Donovan’s lips map out my body. They touch my hip, the soft swell of my stomach, that low scar where Joan was extracted from me. His lips travel upward as he climbs over me, and I sigh as I move my hands over his ass, pulling him snugly against me. His hard length nestles against my abdomen, and I push my hips upward, wanting.
Jason hovers over Donovan and kisses the other man’s shoulder, the back of his neck. “Where’s the—?”
“Left of the bed.”
Jason reaches over the bed and pulls up a bottle of lube. “Copy that.”
Jason snuggles up in bed beside me. He’s made of muscles, and I find myself kissing his bicep, nibbling his arm.
Jason squirts a dollop of lube onto his fingers and then reaches between me and Donovan. I feel his hand curl at my pelvis. His large fingers rub against my slit, coating me.
Donovan kisses my throat, Jason nuzzles against my ear. I’m covered in my husbands, and I love it.
“Is that what you want, baby?” Jason purrs in my ear.
“Yeah…”
He dips a finger inside of me, and I gasp at the welcome intrusion. Those surgeon’s hands know me far too well, and the slight crook of his finger has my toes curling into the sheets.
I only get it for a moment, though. He retracts his hand, and I whimper. Donovan’s breath is hot on my shoulder, and I hear him groan as Jason takes his cock in his hand, spreading the lube between us. Jason and Donovan kiss, their mouths meeting sloppily, hungrily, and the sight of it makes me throb.
Once we’re both slick and buzzing with pleasure, Jason pushes off the mattress. He climbs on top of Donovan now, their bodies fitting together.
Donovan’s mouth covers mine. I stroke my fingers through his hair as he eases himself inside of me. He’s a perfect fit—he feels swollen and thick inside of me but not uncomfortably so. Like our bodies were meant to merge together. I wind my legs around his hips and wrap my arms around his shoulders. I grip skin; my nails find Jason’s back, the two of them folded together.
“I love you,” I whisper, the words falling from me as Donovan’s thrust sends a wave of pleasure through me.
“I love you, too,” Donovan murmurs against my mouth, his words as sweet as honey.
“I love you,” Jason says to both of us and repeats for good measure, “I love you, I love you…”
Jason’s strong hand clutches the headboard, and he and Donovan move together as one—Jason inside of Donovan, Donovan inside of me. We’re together, the three of us, and I feel so connected to them like this. It sends a hot rush of pleasure through me that makes me dizzy with it.
Donovan moans, his eyebrows crushed together, and his skin is so hot, a light sheen of sweat making us slide together. He takes my hands suddenly and pins them to the pillow by my head. Jason’s hands cover Donovan’s, both their fingers curling, and now I’m completely pinned underneath both of them. I gasp, suffocating on my own ecstasy, as my body becomes taut as a violin string—singing, humming, vibrating. Donovan swings his hips slow and low, his pelvis rolling against mine in a way that rubs against my swollen nub, and I grind against the edge of my pleasure.
I whimper with each breath. My husbands move against me in waves. I want this to last—oh, god, I want this to last forever. But my heels are digging into the mattress, and my fingers tighten between theirs.
“Oh, god,” I whimper.
“Let go, Kenzi,” Donovan murmurs in a low, rough growl.
My body obeys. I throw my head back and shout as my orgasm erupts through me, pulsing, pulling. I’m the ocean. I’m the night sky. I’m endless, and the two loves of my life are pouring into me, filling me.
We sweat and pant and slide together, a mess of limbs and sloppy kisses. I love these men. It’s a love so strong that it makes my whole body warm and lazy with it.
Donovan catches my mouth in his, and it grounds me. I secure myself in his lips, anchoring myself to him. His tongue slides against mine, tasting me, and I shiver.
“All these years,” Donovan muses, “and you two still make me see stars.”
I laugh at that. “Some things never change, do they?”
“No. They don’t.”
We break apart but come together again. The three of us snuggle in bed together, Donovan wedged in between both Jason and me. The both of us are starved for his body, trapping him in with us. I rest my head against his chest. My husband. My partner in crime. My pain in the ass.
My Donovan.
Our Donovan.
I rest my hand on his hip. My thumb rubs against that familiar scar, the place where he sacrificed part of himself to save our son.
The backs of my eyes burn. “I love our family,” I say suddenly, because I have to say it.
Donovan chuckles lightly. He presses the top of my head. “Me too.”
“Muskrats forever,” Jason adds. He winds his arms around the both of us and pulls us into a tight hug. I don’t want to be anywhere else.
