Page 66 of Last Destination

Our phones all buzzed on the table, and a wide smile stretched across my face, knowing it was Ambrose’s morning update in the group chat. Nikki and I reached for ours while Madman ignored it, his attention firmly on getting the last drop of pink sugary liquid from the bottom of his bowl.

The group chat, which Nikki had cheekily named “Marley’s Men,” held a new selfie, presumably from this morning, of Ambrose standing on his patio with a mug full of coffee overlooking Los Angeles, the rising sun at his back, blue ocean in the distance beyond the silver and glass high-rises.

Ambrose: Another sunny day in LA! Wish you were here.

A sharp pang ripped through my chest. I wish you were here, my meathead.

His handsome face had filled out again, the small dimple on the right side of his cheek fully in view. It only came out when he gave a real smile, the one that lit me up inside from my heart to deep in my belly. The golden amber of his eyes shone in the soft natural light, captivating me even in 2-D. He’d trimmed his glossy jet-black hair to fall just beside his eyes, and his glassy skin glowed without the array of bug bites and cuts from jungle vines. He was beautiful, and that beauty made my heart ache.

Our evening texts — well, all-day texts — had revealed far more of his past than I’d ever learned in the jungle. Silly, trivial things, like our favorite colors — his was orange — to serious, heavy topics, like his mother’s passing, his loveless marriage and quiet divorce, even my actual history I’d done my best to repress.

“I’m not used to this kind of attention,” he’d admitted during a video call, his cheeks tinged with a delicate pink blush that made me want to kiss the shit out of him.

He’d kissed me gently at port when we’d all seen him off. His lips had been soft, tentative, as if he pressed harder, he’d scare me off. Now, each new reveal, each new sarcastic-tinged comment, each “good night, jagiya,” had forced me to acknowledge how much he meant to me, and how much it hurt to have him gone.

I looked up at those around our table. We were missing a piece of our puzzle.

But that wasn’t true, was it? Our puzzle was still in pieces in a box, a matching set, but not put together. The only thing stopping us from building the beautifully broken image was me. I was still holding myself back.

I knew where Nikki stood. His enthusiasm about a group future wasn’t just transparent, he’d practically shouted it from rooftops. I hadn’t touched him intimately since he’d taken me against a tree in an adrenaline-fueled state, but I wanted to. I was ready to. But not until I knew what this future could actually look like.

Impossibly, I wanted all of them.

Madman’s feelings weren’t as clear. Would he be willing to share this life with us, in this unorthodox way? We’d had sex — unforgettable, mind-blowing sex — in the darkness of the jungle, but would he want these things with me in the light of day? I needed to know.

I had no idea how this could work, but I was no longer willing to let anyone else dictate how I lived my life. And right now, Ambrose wasn’t here. And he might never be. Nikki and Madman were.

I glanced at each of the men. Madman in gray sweatpants that did nothing to hide any part of his body, moved to the counter to grab more cereal. Nikki scrolled through his phone with vapid concentration, his new glasses perched on the tip of his nose like a sexy and built librarian.

I could start with them. Maybe … One at a time, though.

“Madman, would you join me for a walk on the beach today?”

His piercing blue eyes snapped to mine, my invitation apparently more interesting than the rest of the cereal. His lips stretched into a small smile and the unfamiliar action brought out some boyishness in his otherwise manly features. The white muscle shirt he wore today stretched across his chest like a second skin, showing off cut muscles and updated, colorful tattoos that I loved.

“I would like that.” He put his bowl in the sink, still half-full. At the door, he opened it wide to the outdoors. “Let’s go.”

Well, I hadn’t meant now, but I had nowhere else to be.

“Nik, will you be okay without us?”

Since Madman had taken on the role of Alcohol Police, he had rarely left Nikki’s side, unless I agreed to keep an eye on him. Nikki had begged for it in the beginning, not trusting his urges, even when Madman removed every speck of liquor from the last property, and there was none to speak of here when we’d arrived. I didn’t mind abstaining. Alcohol wasn’t a good mix with antipsychotics, and Madman admitted he’d be loath to take any substance ever again after Diaz had drugged him against his will.

So, we were a sober family — well, group — and would keep Nikki that way.

The beautiful man in question’s wide smile brought out every gorgeous feature of his face: the backlit gold flecks in cool green eyes that always seemed to shine from within even behind his chunky black glasses; thick, oiled ringlets that fell just below his eyes; and his gaunt cheeks had filled back out, even though his cheekbones could still cut. But his lips called me today: puffy, pouty, perfect.

“I’ll be more than okay, baby girl.” He stood and walked over, wrapped his long, lean limbs around my frame before leaning down and pressing those perfect lips against mine. I melted under his touch and his tongue delicately traced along the seam of my lips without coaxing them to open. He’d kissed me this way ever since I’d drawn the wide chalk line between us, dancing along the dangerous point of no return but never crossing it.

I crossed it today, sweeping my tongue into his mouth with a hunger that surprised both of us. He stilled, hesitant, but changed course in a microsecond. His hand cupped the back of my neck with a forceful grip and he kissed me absolutely stupid. My heart rate spiked to what could be a coronary, and my belly clenched with such rabid want. When he abruptly stopped, releasing my neck and pushing back, both of us fought to catch our breath.

“Go with Madman before I steal his thunder.” Nikki’s panting was strangely satisfying, and I bit my lip, savoring the ghost of his kiss.

My cheeks were afire when I turned to Madman, unsure what I would find. His brow was raised in a questioning arch, but not in disapproval, more like amusement. He’d already put on his sandals while Nikki mauled me, and had aligned my sandals on the floor, ready to slip into.

My chest tightened and a sharp zing of emotion singed through the middle of my heart. Madman was always taking care of me in the simplest of gestures.

He opened the door with one tattooed hand, then held out the other for me to take.