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Richard took the cue again. “You want to talk about it? Talk about what your plans are?”

“Yeah?” The surprise in his voice tore at my heart. “I've been thinking about going back to school. Last time, I didn't have a clue what I wanted to do, and I messed it all up. I always thought I'd go back.” He swallowed a long gulp of his water and cleared his throat. “I need to give up my membership at the club. I don't have the money. I never did, but I needed it before so I made sure I could swing the fee. Now... we aren't going, and I'm not sure when I'll get another job.”

“I don't see a need for us to go back,” Richard said. “Unless we wanted to play somewhere. But I won't ever want to invite anyone else to join us.”

Matthew's unease melted away. He licked his full lips. I wanted to make love to that mouth. Show him how much I wanted to live with him, how much I wanted to be with him.

I had something to say first. “I don't have any reason to go to the club. I guess I see the point of somewhere we can go as a threesome, but as for playing around, I... I don't want to see anyone else touch either of you.” My knee bounced and my heel tapped the floor repeatedly.

Richard's hand gripped my thigh, and my leg stilled. No one's simple touch had ever ignited such need. Or such peace.

“Okay, Matthew,” Richard said. “Cancel your membership.”

Matthew smiled again. Then his expression sobered. He glanced around the kitchen. “Can we talk about living here? How do we split expenses and stuff?”

“Why don't you each give me what you can, and I'll put it toward the bills.” Richard looked my way. “You could make it the same as what you were paying for rent and utilities at your old place.”

“That wouldn't cover the cost of your water bill. I can swing more.”

“We'll work it out. And Matthew, you can wait until you get another job or figure out what your plans are. I want to know what you're paying your mom too, if you still need to help her, so we can factor that in. If you decide to go back to school, I can help with the money for tuition, give you a loan. We can discuss you assisting with the finances after you're done with school.”

Matthew set his water on the table. “That's... too much. I can't accept you paying for me to live here and for school. Even a loan. That'd be weird. I need to know I can take care of myself.”

“I understand. I've got the money and I want to help.”

“Thanks. I... I've gotta figure this out for myself. I keep messing up. For once, stuff was going good. I thought losing this job was me fucking up again. But maybe... ”

He stood, grabbed his bottle of water, and guzzled the rest as he meandered through the kitchen. He tossed the empty bottle into the recycling, opened the fridge, and stared inside. We'd just stocked it full of water and soda. What the hell else could he be looking for? I shifted in my seat. Waiting for people to talk was hell. Pure, evil, kill-me-now hell. Impatience boiled over. I was about to scream at him. I jammed my thumb into my thigh over and over. The dull pain distracted me from nothing. On the next jam, my thumb struck Richard's hand. He gripped my fingers and pressed my palm to his thigh.

I breathed more easily. Anything was easier when I was touching his body.

Matthew shut the fridge door and came back to the table. “Maybe I'm supposed to do something else. Go to school. Finally figure out what I want to do with my life. Maybe this time, it was a good thing.”

“That's a good way to look at it,” I said. “You should move forward, make your life better. Live here with us. Go back to school. Let Richard help you. Let me help you.”

“Thank you. For caring. For listening. For wanting to live with me. I'm gonna try. But right now it's uh, kinda late... ” He flashed us a teasing grin and cupped his groin as he walked backward. “Wanna go to bed— our bed?”

I couldn't hold back the laugh. “Yes.”

Richard stood and pulled me with him, grabbing Matthew before he got too far away. He wrapped his large arms around us. “Welcome home.”

We made love with Matthew suspended between us. He cried out one word as he came. “Home.” And when he landed on the bed, he laughed. “I'm home.”

“We all are,” Richard said.

I grunted my sated agreement. Pride like I'd never known before surged through me. Not pride in my work. Not pride in keeping my father and his men at bay. Not pride in my sexual conquests. Pride in who I was becoming. I'd stayed in the kitchen, listened to Matthew, listened to Richard.

My mind and body relaxed in an entirely new way. My thoughts ran free, spilling out of my subconscious in a rush.

I love having sex with them. I love lying in bed with them. I love listening to them talk to each other.

God, I love... no. I couldn't.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried hard not to think about those three damn words. It took everything I had to breathe, the pure relaxation long gone.

Sleep continued to evade me for the next few nights. I convinced Richard and Matthew to hold off on moving our stuff in, suggesting we should wait until Matthew had a chance to talk with his mother and then rent a small truck to collect everything at once. They agreed, oblivious to my growing discomfort.

What the hell was I afraid of?

Falling in love with someone again? Or losing them?

I'd managed to travel down a slippery path I never thought I'd be able to stay on. I'd found what I'd lost years ago. And not just one man, but two.

But if my father found out, would he make good on his old promise?

I forced the concerns out of my head. I was still there, with them. I had overcome all of my other fears. I relaxed by the fourth day and found myself enjoying the company of both men again.

By the next Friday night, I was enjoying more than Richard's company. Matthew had gone to his mom's again for dinner. Richard and I made it an early night. We sucked each other off, sixty-nine-style, in the middle of the bed, and fell asleep soon after, Richard curled around me, my hand on his hip.

I awoke a few hours later to an empty bed. At first, it didn't seem odd— years of sleeping alone were hard to erase from the memory. Then sleep escaped me, and the peculiarity settled in. The bed wasn't supposed to be empty next to me. Not anymore. Not ever again if I could get up the nerve to order the damn moving truck.

I checked the clock. 1:36 a.m.

Where the hell were they?

I descended two stairs before I heard it: a low moan from the living room.

What the fuck?

They were screwing around without me. Why would they go to the living room? Any time before when two of us awoke wanting something physical together, we stayed in the bed. None of us saw a need to leave the third person out of it.

Or maybe they were doing more. What else would they hide from me? I wasn't surprised they wanted to have sex in the one way we'd agreed not to do outside the three of us. It was going to become a necessity. I didn't think any of us would mind, once we all said yes.

But we had an agreement.

I considered heading back to bed and letting them have their fun, but I wanted them to know they'd been caught. Hell, I might as well get off too.

I swallowed hard and turned the corner, anxious and not just a little bit aroused at what I'd see.

Both men were seated on the couch, fully clothed, Matthew's head on Richard's chest. His dark hair was mussed, and tears clung to his face. Richard spoke low, comforting words. His large hand stroked Matthew's back, smoothing the fabric of his shirt as he petted the smaller man.

I wanted to turn away, climb the stairs, and crawl back into bed.

Fucking I could join in on. Crying and hugging— I didn't know how to handle that.

Richard lifted his head. My heart raced at the concern on his face.
Not good
. Worse than Matthew getting fired. Worse than the night Richard drank with him.

He waved me over.

My legs twitched, wanting to move away from them as if they'd received an autopilot message from my brain; but when Matthew's miserable, tear-filled eyes met mine, I lurched for the couch and dropped to my knees.

“What is it?”

Richard answered. “He told his mom about us. She asked him not to come back. Said she needed some time. Said she's confused, disappointed.”

“She doesn't get it, doesn't know why I need this.” Matthew's voice cracked. His eyes were bloodshot, his pale skin ashen, his full lips dry. “She's never not accepted me— accepted who I am.”

My gut churned. Matthew wasn't supposed to look like that, to sound like that. He was fire and light and bounce. Pain and fear didn't look right on him.

“I was about to tell him I think we should go see her.” Richard lifted Matthew's chin. “Help her to understand.”

“You will?”

Air filled my lungs when Matthew smiled. But his expression changed as he turned to me.

“We will,” I said.

“She might deal better if she got to know you, if she saw us together.”

“That's what I'm thinking,” Richard said.

I nodded.

Matthew dragged me onto the couch until we lay in a pile with him laughing between us.

I adjusted my tie for the third time and inspected it in the bathroom mirror. It still didn't look right.
Fuck it
. Whatever the hell I wore would be the least of her concerns.

I stared at myself in the mirror.

Hello, Mrs. Stewart.

Hi, ma'am. My name is Luke.

It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am.

I'm one of the two men who likes to stick his dick up your son's ass.

What the hell was she going to think of us?

She had to accept us. I wasn't going to be the reason he lost his family.

“Nervous?” Richard asked from the doorway, his voice low.

“Nah.”

“Sure you're not.”

My head snapped in his direction. “Aren't you?”

He leaned on the doorjamb and folded his arms. “I have no intention of letting her continue to hurt him.”

“It's that simple?”

He stepped into the bathroom and turned me toward him. He worked apart the tie's knot and retied it. “We'll make her see.”

“Is everything always so easy for you?”

“This isn't easy. She isn't the first or the last person who's going to give us shit over this. Our bed is too crowded for most people. But she loves Matthew. And he needs her. We'll keep trying until she gets it. I won't give up on this one. Not his mom.”

“He's been different, not like him at all. Fidgety and edgy, snippy even.”

“He's entitled. But it's not going to continue. Not if we can help it.”

I checked my tie in the mirror. Better. “You know, if it was just you and him, she'd have no issues. She'd be thrilled.”

“So what?” He wrapped his arms around my waist, and his chin came to rest on my shoulder. “She'll have to get used to it. It isn't ever going to be just me and him.”

Ever
? Could three men really last?

I reached around and grabbed his ass, bringing him in close.

I sure as hell hoped so.

Matthew's mom greeted us with a warm smile at the door of her apartment. She gestured for us to come in and laughed as she moved out of the way for Richard's large frame.

Same laugh. Same smile. Same wavy, dark hair. If I'd seen her on the street, I would have known her as Matthew's mother. All smiles and light and laughter.

Not the greeting of a woman who had issues with us.

“Come here and give your mother a hug.” Her voice lilted as she spoke to her son. She wound her arms around Matthew.

“Mom, I'd like you to meet Richard Marshall and Luke Moore.”

The small woman dipped her head in an all too familiar gesture. She reached out and shook our hands.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Stewart,” Richard said.

“Please, call me Lydia.” She turned to Matthew. “They are very nice looking, Matty.”

I mouthed the nickname, and Matthew rolled his eyes.

Lydia shook her head and giggled. “Come on into the kitchen. Dinner's almost ready. I made iced tea.”

The apartment was small and full of knickknacks, mismatched furniture, and half-finished sewing projects, but there was no dust or disorder about the place. The smell of fresh baked sugar cookies and cinnamon candles gave the impression of Christmas morning. Walking through her home made me feel like I'd been wrapped in a warm blanket on a snowy day.

We stepped into the kitchen, a small room with compact appliances, a rollaway dishwasher, and a distressed wood table that filled the open area off to one side. A battered wooden rocker with worn edges and scratches sat against the wall. I took a closer look. Several spindles were broken. If she sat in it, she'd get hurt.

A quilt hung over the back. Probably handmade. My mother had stitched a similar piece throughout my third grade year at St. Mary's Elementary. The memory was one of the few I let myself keep. She sewed the quilt in our living room while I did my homework on the coffee table. She'd give me cookies and a glass of milk while we worked. When I drank the last of the milk, she'd pour another before I could ask for more and slip me three extra cookies.

“I need to get it repaired.” Lydia reached down and brushed her fingertips over the arm of the rocker. “I can't use it like it is now.”

“Did you make the quilt?” I asked.

Her smile grew. “I did. For Matty when he was a newborn. He wouldn't go to sleep unless I wrapped him in that quilt and rocked him. We did that every night until he was seven years old.”

“Mom,” Matthew screeched. He set four plastic glasses on the table with a loud clank. Tea spilled over the tops.

“Shush, Matty. Don't interrupt your mother.”

“Yeah, kid,” I said. “Don't interrupt your mother.”

Matthew stuck his tongue out at me, and that had me laughing. He grabbed a dish towel and set to wiping the mess.

“He was such a good boy. Always told me everything. What he did at school. What his friends were doing. Which kids he liked. It's how I knew he was gay. I couldn't deny it when he never once mentioned a girl.” She paused and looked right at me. “Some men don't talk much to their mothers. Not my Matty. When he keeps something from me, it's because it isn't good for him.”