Page 142 of Break Out the Girl

If I keep saying that enough, maybe I’ll finally believe it.

Behind me there is a soft thud as Tally pulls out the sofa-bed.

“Righty-ho, time to turn in,” London yawns, flopping down onto the thin mattress. “Coming, Kitten?”

Tally doesn’t give me a choice. He reaches out, his hands catching me around the waist, and lifting me effortlessly. The next second I land next to London with an oof.

The mattress isn’t meant for three adults, but somehow Tally, London and I manage to squeeze on. Tally spoons my back, and I wrap my arms around London.

We’ve a faded quilt as a bedcover, though it’s truly not necessary with the heat these two men give off.

François is different. His body doesn’t burn like hot coals. I guess that’s the cold-blooded snake in him.

Cold-blooded.

I thought the last few weeks we’d been warming him, but apparently not enough.

Tally’s fingers stroke through my hair, as London leans in, kissing me gently on the cheek.

An embarrassing tear leaks out of one eye. Shit.

It unleashes a dam. Within seconds, my shoulders are shaking, sobs I’m trying to muffle choke out of my throat.

“Oh, Princess,” Tally murmurs, kissing the back of my hair. “Let it all out. You’re safe now.”

“I’m sorry,” I weep like an idiot. The grief is stupid and crushing. “He just left. Didn't even say goodbye. Hadn’t we earned that? I thought, I thought…”

“That we were family,” London finishes for me. “I know, I’m sad too, Kitten. But Shane is Shane, and we don’t know what shivers possessed him. Sometimes it’s as hard to explain your actions to yourself—as it is to someone else.”

Tally’s arm tightens across my stomach, pulling me against his chest. “But it’s OK to mourn, sweetheart. We get it.”

The more they comfort me, the greater the guilt slams into my chest.

“I’m so horrible. I have no right to be crying, not when I have both of you right here. It’s not fair to you. I’m so sorry.”

“Now, listen up, Kitten,” London murmurs, his voice sweet and tender. “Don't you dare go down a helter-skelter. Your heart isn’t a pie with only so many slices. Loving him doesn't mean you love us less. We know what we are to you.” He lifts my chin with his fingers, forcing me to look up through my blurred vision.

“The faun speaks truth, Rory,” Tally says quietly into my ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin. “And though I’m fucking pissed he’s made you so sad, I’m not for a moment worried or angry that you are feeling so deep. What there is between us, all of us, goes beyond usual relationships. We all know that.” He shifts slightly, then pulls me over to face him. “De Vaux is an ass for just splitting, but I honestly think he’ll regret it. Then it will be up to you if you want him back.”

My bottom lip trembles. Fuck François. Fuck him for not giving us a chance. For running at the first opportunity to dive back into his Elite life.

“He could beg on his knees and I’d turn my back,” I declare. “We are a unit, and we don’t ditch each other. He had his chance and it’s gone now.”

Tally’s face moves closer. “Whatever you say, Princess. You’re the boss.” His lips graze mine, and I feel the love flowing like beautiful grounding energy between us. London trails his fingers over my arm, then down across my hip bone.

Surrounded by their fierce, protective love, the pain of François’s departure becomes manageable. Slowly, my eyelids grow too heavy to keep open.

Tally’s breathing synchronizes with mine, his fingers loosely tangled in my hand, while London’s heartbeat thuds against my back, steady and strong.

Wrapped tightly in their warmth, the terrifying question mark of the future finally fades into the dark.

What will be, will be.

Now is what counts.

✽✽✽

It’s been four days since Cosmo, Ludo and François left.