Page 91 of Blackwood

Monroe tilts his head. “I see.”

“It’s not a throuple,” I add quickly. “I mean, I guess yeah it kind of is, but not in a weird way. Like, they’re already together. For years. And now they want me to just… join?”

Monroe hums and writes something else. His expression doesn’t change.

“And I know I sound crazy. I really like Cade, I think I have ever since I was a teen. And from what he’s said about Lex, I know I’ll like him too. And they seem to actually—God, I don’t even know—want me. Like, for real.”

“But?”

“But what if I’m just a phase?” My voice cracks a little. “What if I ruin it? What if they realize I don’t fit? That I’m too dark, or too much, or too broken.”

Monroe finally sets his pen down. “Why do you think they would want you in the first place if you didn’t already fit?”

“Because I’m shiny on the outside,” I mutter. “Because I know how to perform. But what happens when that fades and they’re stuck with the reality?”

He studies me. “What is the reality, Bella?”

“I’m loud. I’m bitter. I’m obsessive. Fucking traumatized.”

“You’re also resilient. Focused. And highly capable of love, whether or not you believe it yet.”

I snort. “Do you write those things in a little therapist affirmation journal?”

“No,” Monroe replies evenly. “I write them in your file.”

I laugh, too tired to care. “It’s messing with everything. My dances, my missions. I literally almost got shot at a drop last night because I was too busy thinking about Cade’s mouth down on me and Lex’s stupid pictures I stalk on Instagram.”

Monroe blinks slowly. “That’s quite an image.”

“I’m serious. If O’Malley hadn’t grabbed my vest, I’d be dead. And the last thought in my head would’ve been Cade going down on me and saying sweetheart like he wanted to ruin me.”

He scribbles again. Probably under a heading likehyper-sexual spiral, danger to self, and wants to be ruined.

“Bella,” he says calmly, “you’ve always carried stress well. But this is different. This is emotional stress. Intimacy. It’s not just pressure, it’s uncertainty.”

“I don’t like uncertainty.”

“I know. You like precision. Perfection. Power.”

“All the best P’s.”

“Here’s a better one. Patience. Because this relationship won’t be perfect. It’ll be messy. Awkward. Human. It’s going to take time and probably a lot of it.”

I glance down at my hands. “So, what, I just jump in and hope I don’t drown?”

“You survived foster care. A monster for a foster father. Multiple missions. Dylan’s death. Zeke’s death.”

His voice softens. “I think you can survive two boys trying to love you.”

I let that one sit.

“You always perform better under pressure,” he adds dryly. “Maybe the universe decided it’ll take two men to handle your dramatic ass.”

“Are you calling me dramatic, doc?”

“Clinically. Yes.”

I shake my head. “You might be right.”