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“You all right?” Leo shifts, his hand brushing my ribs.
“Yeah. You?”
“I really want to fuck with him.”
“No.”
“Hear me out.” He angles his face toward mine on the pillow above her head, whispering, “Let’s pretend we’re jerking off. I’ll grunt and make slapping sounds loud enough for him to hear while you moan my name.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“We need to test him. Expose his true nature.”
“He won’t come in here for Mississippi seconds, if that’s what you’re thinking. He’s not Denver.”
“Mississippi seconds?”
“Redneck family bonding.”
“What filthy corner of the Internet have you been haunting?”
I sigh as the shadows of our past press me into the mattress. “Despite how we feel about Monty, he has no interest in fucking men or children or family members. That’s not his kink.”
Frankie’s his kink. She’s all he cares about, and it’s not a healthy obsession.
The same could be said about our obsession with her.
“Go to sleep, dumbass.” I shove his face away.
He tries to shove back, but I see better than him in the dark and dodge him easily.
She doesn’t even stir.
We lie there, the three of us tangled in the warmth and intimacy of skin on skin. If heaven exists, this is it.
We made it through all the interviews without a hitch. I’ve been eating my weight in delicious food. There isn’t a constant, soul-sucking chill in the air, and I don’t have to leave the bed to throw a log on the fire.
Here, we don’t even need a fire.
Closing my eyes, I let my gratitude and contentment sink into my limbs. My last conscious thought circles around Frankie and the psychiatrist she wholeheartedly trusts. Maybe he can help her.
If he doesn’t, I’ll make him wish he never met her.
Sleep doesn’t come easily, but it comes.
Sometime later, in the quiet moments of the night, my eyes jolt open, adjusting to the absence of light.
The instinctual need to sit up hardens my muscles. Propping on an elbow, I find Leo already braced on his, rubbing his eyes.
Frankie lies on her stomach between us, one leg butterflied, her face scrunched in sleep.
A soft sound jerks my head to the door.
On the floor, Monty sits with his back to the doorframe and his head lolling to the side. Snoring.
We should’ve locked him out. Though he probably has a key.
Leo catches my eyes in the gloom.
