Page 97 of Burden of Proof

There was a part of me that knew I was acting irrationally, but there was also no way it was something I could get a hold of. With my phone still in hand, I texted Marshall.

Can I have Keith’s phone number?

Justin’s Keith?

Please.

He sent it over almost immediately, and I pretended the gears weren’t turning in his head about why I wanted to talk to his switch friend in the polyam relationship. I’d already talked to Marshall about what it meant to be dominant, so he had to suspect there was some wavering happening. I only hoped he’d not talk to Silas about it, which I also knew was impractical. He and Silas talked about everything because that was healthy and normal and because Silas was a submissive and Marshall was a dominant, and Marshall told him to and Silas obeyed.

That all felt very straightforward and simple.

I fired off a text to Keith, reminding him of who I was and asking if we could get some coffee. He answered within a couple of minutes, letting me now he was out with a like-minded friend, but I was more than welcome to join them as they were already on their way for coffee.

I figured there was no harm in it because I could not care less if a stranger wanted to judge how messy I was, so I bought the cheapest toothbrush on the rack, then keyed in the address Keith sent me and headed toward it. The traffic was impossible, but forty minutes later, I finally found parking and Keith.

He was at a small outside table on the sidewalk, his curly black hair falling across his forehead. His friend was…gorgeousin every possible way, maybe a little taller than average with long black hair that looked like silk in the sunlight.

“Lincoln!” Keith waved me down, and I stumbled toward the table, giving him and his friend an embarrassingly awkward wave.

“Hey. Hi. Thanks for meeting me.”

“Any friend of Marshall’s is a friend of mine,” he said, gesturing across the table. “Have you met Verity?”

Verity.

I shook my head.

“Verity and their best friend Landon are the ones who own Rapture,” Keith explained. “Well, Gregory and Aaron have a bit in it now too.”

“I don’t…”

“Gregory is Landon’s partner, and Aaron is mine,” Verity explained, pushing a plastic cup of iced coffee from the center of the table toward the empty seat. “We made a guess on your drink.”

“Caramel,” Keith said.

“I don’t hate it.” I sank down into the seat and took a swallow of the drink they’d picked out for me. It was really good, not too sweet and not too bitter. “Thank you.”

“So, not that I hate it, but what brings you around?” Keith asked. “I have my suspicions, but I don’t want to assume.”

“You know what they say about people who assume,” Verity teased, flipping their hair behind their ear. “It makes you an asshole.”

A laugh formed in the back of my throat, and I swallowed it down, but not before the noise made it out of my mouth. As a silence fell over the table, I realized they were both still waiting for me to answer. My cheeks heated, and I found myself suddenly embarrassed over the call in the first place. They were both strangers, closer to Marshall’s age than mine, and there wasno way either of them would even care about me, let alone my problems.

“It feels silly now,” I muttered, pinching the straw between my fingernails.

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean it’s unimportant.” The two of them shared a knowing look, and I frowned at the condensation rings on the table.

“Well, while we try to figure that out, Keith, have I ever told you about how my relationship with Aaron started?” Verity asked.

“No,” Keith said, clearly lying. “I don’t think you have.”

“I met him at Rapture, and he was the most persistent little thing—” Verity said, only to be cut off by a short laugh from Keith.

“He’s hardly little.”

“Oh, I know.”

I looked up in time to see Verity suggestively waggle an eyebrow before smirking at me and continuing their story.