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“Jesus, please, don’t say all Asians look the same,” Atticus begged. “Die with some fucking dignity.”
“I’m not gay,” Atticus managed, sounding unsure even to himself. The stranger grinned, and Atticus’s stomach did somersaults. “Yeah, but you’re not straight either, are you?” “I’m a psychopath,” Atticus blurted. The stranger leaned forward, his whisper conspiratorial. “I’m a Scorpio. I still like banging dudes.”
“One of his brothers is married to a man and the other is engaged to one. So, clearly they are not homophobic, right?” Arsen asked.
He’d been in a dating slump since his brothers had decided to start mating for life like psychotic penguins.
But when you’re not around other people, how do you feel?” His brows knitted together. “I don’t.”
“I watched you cut a guy’s fingers off during a racist game of Jeopardy. I guess I thought there was a cone of silence thing happening here. Don’t friends have secrets?”
“Yes. Dr. Mulvaney, Professor Blackwell, and Dr. Abbot, our Chief Medical Examiner.”
“Yeah, I don’t want you to be sad. I like when you’re…you.” “And who am I?” Jericho teased, a tinge of cockiness returning to his voice. Atticus smirked. “The guy who flirted with a psychopath next to a dead body.”
“Thomas and Aiden…you know…” Noah trailed off, nodding like that would somehow make them connect whatever dots lingered. When none of them finished his vague statement, he scoffed. “Oh, my God. They’re hot for each other.”
“Aiden isn’t a psychopath. Surely, you must have noticed that. Whatever problems he had, it didn’t come from a lack of empathy or remorse. It came from trauma.”
Jericho wanted to own Atticus. To keep him. To protect him. He wanted to be his safe place to land. Wanted Atticus to be as vulnerable out of the bedroom as he was inside it.
Atticus sighed. “I have emotions, just not the kind you’re looking for.” “I think you’ve just convinced yourself that’s the case.”
“Think all you want, Freckles. But we both know you’re already mine.”
“I’m not letting you go, Freckles. I’m just not. You can call it a business arrangement, an affair, a kidnapping, some kind of midlife crisis. But whatever you call it, you’re mine. And I protect what’s mine.”
He really wanted to talk to Noah or even Lucas. Atticus froze. He identified with Noah and Lucas. He identified with the two of them more than he did his own brothers. What the fuck did that mean?
“Fine, but I’m just going to keep you company. I told you, I don’t like the killing part.” Jericho shook his head, dropping a kiss to the nape of his neck. “I just want your company, Freckles. I’ll do the wet work.”
“Good. ‘Cause I have no problems killing to protect what’s mine. I’m sure you know that by now.”
“I know. I don’t like killing, but I’d kill for you, too.” Jericho’s stomach fluttered. “I know, Freckles. I know.”
“Do you feel better now?” Atticus asked. “Yeah, I do.” Atticus dragged their intertwined hands towards him and kissed the back of his hand in an unprompted display of affection that made Jericho’s stomach swoop like he was on a rollercoaster. “Good.”
Atticus had never been so…relieved that Lucas had somehow sanded down August’s rough edges. Marriage had been good for him, good for both of them. They were settled, had a routine, a life together. Hell, they were even talking about having kids.
“My apologies, Callie. I have a migraine.” Calliope snorted, tone unforgiving. “I would, too, if I’d spent the last two days marinating in booze like you’re Archer.” Archer tipped his glass towards the speaker as if Calliope could see him. “They don’t call it getting pickled for nothing.” He looked to his father. “The key is to never get sober. You have to make your organs afraid. Make them work with the booze, not against it.”
But he was Jericho’s annoyingly finicky perfectionist and he would protect what was his, even if it meant hacking off his future in-laws’ appendages until they got the point. Future in-laws? Jericho side-eyed Atticus. Yeah, he’d marry him. He didn’t care if it was fast, or if it was right, or if one or both of their families protested. Atticus needed to be protected, coddled even.
He needed to know that Atticus was as territorial as he was, as fucked up over him as he was over Atticus. That he’d kill for him. Die for him. That this obsessive compulsion was a two-way street. That there was some kind of unspoken agreement that the only way out of this relationship—no matter how fucked up—was if one of them stopped breathing.
“What’d you get?” “You knew—” Jericho snorted, cutting him off. “That you didn’t just suddenly decide you wanted to be the dominant one in this relationship? Yeah, I don’t need to be a psychic to figure that out. It was interesting watching you do what you do.” “Do what I do?” Atticus said, frowning. “Yeah, this is the first time I’ve seen your mirror bit in action. It’s impressive. So, what did you get?”
“I froze him out after I learned he had a boyfriend. He talked to my parents a few times after that to update them about Mercy, but even that stopped after a few months when they stopped asking questions.” “Why did they stop?” Atticus asked, certain he already knew the answer. “My dad died, my mom got assaulted, and Gabe became a low priority while I was trying to raise Felix.
Like a way for Atticus to let Jericho know he wanted him to feel comfortable in his space. “I thought you didn’t like TV?” Atticus shrugged stiffly. “I don’t. But you do. It’s not a big deal.” Jericho turned Atticus towards him, cupping his face. “It’s a big deal to me.” Atticus went from pink to bright red, mumbling, “I’m glad you like it.”
“Next time you come by, bring your family,” Thomas said. “All of them.”
“What the hell was that all about?” Jericho shrugged. “I’m not sure. I think your father was just feeling me out.” “That’s the first time you’ve lied to me,” Atticus said. “Don’t do it again.”
“Who are you fucking people?” Jericho’s smile unnerved even Atticus. “Neighborhood watch.”
“What did I miss?” “I have no idea, but I wish I’d missed it, too,” Atticus said.
August and Lucas were deeply entrenched in the process of in vitro fertilization. Now that Cricket had agreed to be their surrogate, they spent a lot of time hopping between doctors appointments and attorneys.
