No Simple Sacrifice (Secrets of Stone Book 5) (21 page)

“One night after a few too many drinks, we admitted to being intrigued with sharing a woman—but also were adamant about not being ‘into’ each other.”

He lifted his free hand to my nape, softly rubbing as he went on, “Since then, there have been numerous…dates…but only a couple of women we saw casually for a few months each. Obviously, nothing ever came of those experiences.”

“Why?” Instantly, I yearned to haul the over-eager question back in. Was I prying too much? His tender smile said otherwise, so I tried to relax. It was tough going now. Just thinking about the two of them, using the explosive force of their hands and tongues and bodies, had me squirmy and restless and soaked.

Where the hell was Drake
?

“That’s a pretty good question, love,” he replied. “And I’m not sure I have an answer. I guess none of them was the right one for us.”

My brain clicked back to a section of his story—an innocuous one, I hoped. “So…water polo. That’s where Killian fits into your friendship too?”

“The girl doesn’t miss a detail,” he grinned. “That’s right. He and I played on the same team in prep school. We went our separate ways in college but both landed back in Chicago. And because I can see the gears in your head already turning on the question,
no
, we’ve never ‘shared’ like that with him. He’s a freaky horn dog, but he’s also traditional in the sense of one man, one woman.”

A knock on the door ended our little twenty questions session. Fletcher rose to answer, treating me to yet another opportunity to ogle his fine rear end. His legs were so long and lean, his slacks tapering in at his trim waist. I let out a heavy sigh. I was the luckiest girl in the world. Well…
would
be, once Drake arrived. As the wind moaned against the windows, I prayed he hadn’t gotten stuck somewhere because of the storm.

Fletcher signed for an envelope from the doorman, then eyed the package with crunched brows while crossing back to the sofa. “Weird,” he mumbled.

“What?” I asked.

“It’s addressed to both of us.”

“You and Drake?”

“No. You and me.”

“Who even knows I’m here?” I did some mental searching. Claire, Margaux and Taylor knew I’d flown to Chicago to be with the guys, but everyone in the family thought I was staying in a hotel, in town to attend the SGC gala. It
was
the truth—just not all of it. “And why don’t I feel good about this?” My stomach flip-flopped, underlining the statement.

“Because you’re paranoid?”

He winked to emphasize the repeat on the joke, but it barely scratched the surface of my trepidation. My underlying anxiety, bubbling for the last two days straight, now scalded the edges of my composure.

“Ssshhh, sweetheart.” He rubbed a reassuring hand over the clammy ones I kneaded in my lap. “Let’s just see what this is all about, okay?”

He slid his finger under the flap. Pulled out a single sheet of folded paper. As he opened the page, the light from the foyer shined in behind him, illuminating handwriting on the message. I couldn’t read any of it from my side, so focused on Fletcher.

And the sudden, deep furrows in his forehead.

The harsh drop of his eyebrows.

“What is it, Fletcher?”

The heavy swallow in his throat.

“
Fletcher
?”

The shaking tips of his fingers.

Dammit.

“It’s…from Drake. What the hell?
Why
the hell?”

“What?” The knot in my stomach supersized itself into a full, stabbing ache. “
What
does it say, Fletcher?” I shivered as an iceberg joined the pain—then broke off into freezing shards through my body. I harped every chastising mantra I could remember—
you really
are
paranoid…stop being so dramatic…it’s never as awful as you think…stop turning into your own mother…
but in the end, one truth blared over all of them.

Drake wasn’t here.

And his letter was.

Fletcher cleared his throat. With painstaking softness, began to read aloud.

My beautiful Talia and my brother, Fletcher,

I never believed the bullshit about some things being said best in writing—until now. Half of me still bellows I’m a coward for this, but the thought of broaching this in person with you is completely impossible—and I need you both to hear everything I have to say.

It comes from the deepest place in my heart.

I love the two of you more than I ever thought possible. The ways that you both have made my life fuller are a blessing I never expected—bringing a truth I can no longer deny. I cannot keep grasping this joy, if it comes at the expense of either of yours.

“What the hell is he talking about?” I rasped. Fletcher flashed me a glance full of the same agonized confusion before reading on.

I want nothing but happiness and perfect lives for you two. But perfection comes at a price. You don’t get to have excellence without sacrifice.

That’s why, at this point, I’ve decided the best thing for the three of us is for you to simply be “the two of us.” To move forward, without shame or hiding, as a couple. Without me.

“No!”

I bolted off the couch. Repeated the word on a sob, before my knees gave out and dropped me back to the cushion. Fletcher watched me, sad and silent, his gaze brimming with turbulent grief. We breathed hard together, re-collecting what we could of our minds, before he squeezed my hand and continued reading.

Talia, I know you are worried about your family accepting our relationship. It’s true, sweetheart, no matter how adamantly you keep denying it. It has destroyed me, and will continue to destroy me, to think of you having to choose between us and them. I refuse to make you do that—or to see you torn about it any longer. To be clichéd, it’s easier this way. With Fletcher by your side, you can be proud to go home to your family, unafraid of their judgment or disappointment. He will treat you the way they want you to be treated. He is the best man I have ever known, honorable and kind, a worthy mate for the queen you are.

Fletcher, you have been my brother for so long…I don’t remember life without you in it. I don’t want to think about losing our friendship—this is no simple sacrifice—but one I make willingly, so you both can be happy. Do you hear me?
You deserve to be happy as much as she does, asshole.
With that said, I know you will understand that distance is best for me right now. It’s best that we go our separate ways. I will always have your back, brother mine. If you ever need anything…well, you know the rest.

Please remember how much I love you both. And that I will never forget you.

Truly yours,

Drake

My first instinct was denial. It spawned a bitter laugh. “This—this is a joke, right?” I didn’t believe myself for a second. As panic set in, my voice pitched by an octave. “Is this a prank? Are you two messing with me? What the hell is going on, Fletcher? He—he can’t be serious. Is he serious?”

Fletcher didn’t reply. He mutely stared at the paper in his hand as if he were holding a dead snake—with the head he’d just bitten off, still filling his mouth.

“Fletcher.” I wanted to dive into his arms. I wanted to slap him across the face. “
Say something
. You know him better than anyone. What the hell is happening?”

With every muscle I could focus on, I battled full freak-out mode. For the last two weeks, I’d survived on dreams of being here…of finally being enclosed in their arms, wrapped in the magic of us once again. But the dream was now a nightmare—not brought by any of the forces that conspired against us. It had been an inside job.

Damn him.

“I—I don’t know—what he could be thinking.” The words stumbled from Fletcher, tight and shallow, struggling against emotion.

“Have you two been talking about this?” I fired it as the accusation it was intended to be—at once recognizing it as a mistake. When Fletcher lurched from the couch, hands clawing through his hair, I felt sicker than before. I’d hurt him.

“I’ve barely seen him this week,” he said, sounding dazed. “I thought it was a little odd—we normally hang out for at least a few minutes every morning, especially since you came along—but he’s been leaving before I get out of the shower every day. But then he’d text later, to say how busy he was at work. Then he’d get home long after I went to bed.” He sank back to the couch, though leaned forward with elbows on his knees. The expression on his face was tight with concentration. His jaw was a nearly right angle of anger. “I didn’t see any of it—just like the fucker intended.”

I struggled to reclaim the breath my shock had stolen, shaking from the violence of the effort, though that was much better than the only other thought in my head: the comprehension that Drake had done this. Was really gone. “How…can this be happening?”

“I’m as confused as you are, love.” The endearment didn’t soften the harsh edges in his voice. “But I swear to God, we’ll get it straightened out. He just needs to be reassured.”

“Reassured?” It was all I could do not to laugh it. “Drake? Be damn serious. That’s not what’s going on and we both know it.”

“Do we?” Mr. Answer-With-a-Question fell back on his comfortable tactics—an observation that should’ve brought relief, but didn’t.

“Yes,” I retorted, “we do. This is…all my fault…” I trailed off, letting my agony finally overcome my words. “I’m…not enough.”

Fletcher straightened. Jerked sharply toward me. “
What
did you say?”

“I’m not enough.” I spoke louder the second time, lifting my tear-filled gaze to him. “Don’t you see?
I’m
not the right girl for you two either. I’m… not…”

A full sob broke in before I could help it. I choked it back a second later, as the fullness of it hit with sledge hammer force. I’d let them down. Worse yet, had split up their friendship. And most guys fought over who’d
get
the girl, not who would give her up. The irony was so awful, it wasn’t even funny—and stung worse than a lifetime of my parents’ disapproval.

An hour ago, I’d been joyfully, giddily in love.

It was over now.

Before it had barely started.

“
Dammit
.” Fletcher’s growl was so harsh, it took a second to realize
he’d
made it. “Don’t you
dare
utter that again.” He surged to his feet again. One step later, stopped and wheeled back on me…plummeting to his knees in front of me. “Talia.
Talia.
You are perfect for us.” He sprawled a fingers against the side of my face. “You’re
everything
to us. Everything we’ve ever wanted.”

I battled to absorb the adoration in his voice. It was no use. I couldn’t even cry anymore. “Apparently not.” Especially since he still clutched the burning hot evidence in his other hand.

“
Hush
.” His growl was back. “We just need to talk to him.”

I shook my head. My heart moaned with winds as sad as the gusts against the windows. “I don’t think it will matter.”

“Trust me, dammit. He just needs to hear our reasoning.”

“Don’t you get it? It shouldn’t be about
reasoning
or
talking
or even
begging
him to stay. He’s just—”

“He’s
mixed up,
Tolly.” Bafflement crushed his brows tighter over his eyes. “For some fucking reason, he’s gotten this crazy bullshit idea into his head that—”

“That he doesn’t want to be here.” I shrank back, unable to handle his incredible touch for a second longer. Unable to crave it as much as I still did. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to just walk away.” The tearless grief crushed my chest again—just as the rough rumble returned to his voice.

“You’re wrong. I know it. I feel it, goddammit. We just need to talk to him.”

I shook my head again. “I won’t come between the two of you, Fletcher. I refuse. Before there was an
us
, there were the two of you—such connected friends, you call each other brother. I will
not
destroy that. I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I had.”

He reached for me once more. I fended him off by tucking my knees up, crouching into myself. “Talia…please. Listen to me. You
are
wrong—and so is he. Something’s gotten to him. Confused him.”

“Well, he sounded pretty sure of himself. And we both know he’s not the type to go off half-cocked.”

He sat back on his haunches, torso stiff, full lips firming. “We have to get to him. Talk to him…together.”

I just stared at him over my knees. At the moment, it was all I could manage. Shock, anger, hurt, sadness, frustration, confusion…I was a cat hair ball of snarled emotions, too tangled to even attempt sorting them. I didn’t know whether to sob, scream, yell or punch something—preferably that bizarre steel contraption on the wall.

How could this be happening? Just like that, my dreams had turned to dust motes, floating aimlessly in the air, trying to cling to something before fate’s down draft sucked them away for good. Such beauty…so fleeting.

The image was suddenly consumed by a vision of Mama. No…burned there by her doubting scowl, singing the backs of my retinas. My ears rang with her scolding, interjected with that scoffing, knowing laugh.

You thought something good would come of this, Natalia? With taking up with two men at the same time? With spreading your legs for them, just because they said pretty words and gave perfect kisses? Why, Natalia? Were you
that
desperate?

I lowered my knees. Promptly dropped my head into my hands, and moaned again. I longed to leave. Needed to just take my things and go to a hotel, where sanitized bathroom cups and stiff, bleached sheets would distance me from the heartache. But more importantly, Drake would be able to come home. He was avoiding this place—
his home
—because of me.

It was all because of me.

“Talia. Stop.”

I forced my head up. Fletcher leaned forward again, seizing both my hands, crushing my fingers until it hurt. I didn’t wince. Pain was what I needed…probably deserved. But not him.
God, why him
? He was as lost and scared as I was. It poured off of him, as easy to see as the tide coming in, and I could hardly bear it. The conflict etched into his jaw…the sorrow gleaming in his eyes.