"Did ya have to use all the hot water?" Rocco complains from the bathroom.
I glance at Connor, the back of my neck flushing as he turns a satisfied smirk in my direction. I try to hide my smile behind the croissant I'm eating as I look away; Connor doesn't need his head getting any bigger. Murphy glances at me, then his brother, raising a questioning eyebrow.
"I slept funny last night," I mutter, not sure why I'm embarrassed. "I was sore, so I went to take a shower, but Connor was already there, and the...hot water...helped," I finish lamely.
Murphy glances at brother appraisingly, looking mildly impressed. "How'd ye manage it, Con? Ain't ye still pained an' bruised?"
I glance between them, confused by Connor's glare and his brother's amusement. "How did he manage what? Sex? Why shouldn't he be able to?"
"Shit, dat's right!" Murphy exclaims, his face overjoyed. "Ye never told her about yer run in wit' dat hellbeast at work! Lass, Wednesday mornin', we're training dis new...er...woman at work, an' Con, th'ladies man he is, sets her temper off, an' she gives 'im a kick straight t'th'lads!"
"O'course," Murphy adds, his smirk growing into a full blown grin, "I had t'defend his honor, and I knocked dat monster flat out. Nobody hurts me delicate little brudder an' gets away wit' it." He ducks Connor's blow, and I move my chair back from the table, out of the line of fire, still staring incredulously between the two of them.
"Murphy, why...Okay, no, that's the wrong question; I know why you hit her, but...I'm not trying to have double standards, I swear, but you seriously knocked a woman out? At work? In front of other people? How were you not arrested for that?"
"Ye don't understand the size of dis woman, lass," he says, swatting away another hit from Connor. "She had at least four inches on us, and maybe fifty or so pounds. All muscle, dat one. Weren't no question about it bein' an unfair fight."
Connor settles back in his seat, his mouth set in a hard line, still frowning at Murphy, and I touch his hand to get his attention. He takes a page from my book, breathing in slowly through his nose and letting the air out through his mouth before shaking his head as if to clear it. He turns a questioning look on me.
"Aye, lass?"
"You had your balls kicked in not a week ago. I'm betting you're still bruised and maybe even a little swollen, and I don't know how I managed to miss that in the shower. Why would you think it was a good idea to have sex so soon? Didn't that hurt like hell? What were you thinking?"
The look he gives me is one he typically reserves for people asking unreasonably stupid questions they should know the answer to like "Why is this water so wet?"
"I was thinkin' dat I'd rather ache a bit t'day than go another wit'out makin' ye say m'name like dat again."
Oh.
Murphy snickers at the two of us as Connor glowers and smolders at me at the same time, setting my skin blazing with a deep, renewed flush. A tired but comfortable silence settles over the three of us, and I finish my croissant while Connor and Murphy nurse two very large coffees. Just as I hear the shower shut off in the bathroom, Murphy speaks up again, his face abruptly serious.
"Gonna talk some more t'day an' finish tellin' ye everyt'in'. Ye t'ink yer up fer it?"
This isn't a question to take lightly, judging by the earnest looks on both the twins' faces. Connor is a little more relaxed now, but his face still has that drawn, pained look, and Murphy isn't far behind. Though they were laughing and joking with Rocco about it last night, I wonder just how funny they both actually found the whole hotel room massacre.
"I need to hear it, whether I want to or not," I say deliberately, watching the flickers of both relief and trepidation cross Murphy's face. Both of the twins seem older, now that I'm able to really look at them. Murphy's eyes especially look tired, like he's lived some rough years in the last week.
I reach out and lightly rest my palm on his jaw. His eyelids close, and he turns his face into my touch, letting out a breath I think he's been holding since last night. His hands come up to cup the outside of mine, and he holds us like that, his face hidden from me.
"I love you both, and I don't think we can function with secrets between us, not secrets this huge, anyway. It will take some major adjusting for me to really handle what you have to say, and there will be more freakouts on my part, but I think after what we've been through together so far I at least deserve the chance to freak out over the truth instead of imagining all the horrible things that might have happened."
Murphy nods his silent agreement into my palm, and I'm shocked when I feel moisture gathering there. A slight, barely noticeable tremor runs through his shoulders, and my eyes fly to Connor's. He flicks his gaze to the door, then back to me before he stands, and I understand he's going to give me and Murphy some time alone.
"Roc," he calls, smacking his hand flat against the bathroom door. "Hurry up, we got some errands t'run. Meet me outside when yer done."
Connor drops a kiss on my forehead, heading for the door, but he pauses behind his brother, resting a hand on one of Murphy's broad shoulders for a second. After a moment, Murphy nods, still never moving his face from my hand. Connor returns the nod, squeezing Murphy before releasing him and walking away. Connor grabs his coat and shuts the front door behind him.
A minute later, Rocco stumbles out of the bathroom, pulling his boots on and grabbing his own coat on the way out. He glances at Murphy and me, both of us still sitting frozen at the kitchen table, and raises his eyebrows. I frown and shake my head slightly, and Rocco shrugs before setting out after Connor.
I wait until I can't hear his footsteps in the hallways anymore before saying, "C'mon, Murphy, let's get more comfortable." I stand, tugging him to his feet, though he seems reluctant to remove my hand from his face. He follows me to my bedroom, clutching my hand tightly in his like he can't let it go. It takes some maneuvering, but I manage to get us both lying down on the bed with Murphy's head cradled against my shoulder without ever releasing his hand.
"Talk to me," I murmur. "Let it out. There's no one here but us."
His eyes are closed, and if it weren't for the hard set of his jaw and the rigid tension of his back under my fingers, he could be asleep. We lay like that for so long that I start to drift off myself, lulled by the warmth seeping into me from the man beside me, by my rhythmic stroking of his back, by the soothing beat of his heart where his chest presses to my side. When Murphy finally speaks, he's so quiet that I have to turn towards him a little to hear everything he says.
"Th'Russians busted inta th'flat when we was still wakin' up. Hadn't even gotten off th'bed yet. Dey clocked Connor cross the face wit' one of dem hand cannons, huge fuckin' gun, and when Connor looked up, dere was blood streakin' down t'whole side o'his face. Seen 'im wit' blood on his face b'fore; I'm usually t'one t'put it dere. But they were screamin' an' wavin' dem pistols around, an' me an' Con was still hungover from t'night b'fore, an' den Connor's cuffing himself to th'toilet."
I run my fingers deep through Murphy's hair, caressing his scalp and gently rubbing the tight muscles in the back of his neck.
"Dat Ivan fucker tells Connor he came there to kill him but that he's gonna kill me now instead. And den dose fat fuckers shove me out t'door, an' Connor's screamin' me name, an' I swear to Christ, lass, I t'ought I was never gonna see me brudder again."
Murphy shudders against me, twining his arms around my waist and pulling me closer.
"Don't even r'member gettin' down t'th'alley, but suddenly we're standin' dere, and dey shove me down t'm'knees wit' dat giant gun in me face, nothin' on but me boxers, bathrobe, an' boots. Dat fat fucker is laughin', sayin' somethin' about clear consciences, an' all I can t'ink is that I'm about to die an' I'll never see Connor or you again, dat I didn't get t'see ye b'fore ye came back. How much I wished I was wit' ye right den, an' how much I t'anked God ye weren't dere. I was gonna die in an alley surrounded by trash and fat-fuck mobsters, and I had no idea what you an' Connor were gonna do wit'out me."
He goes quiet and still, but I have sense enough to know he isn't done. I kiss his forehead gently, my fingers still working through his hair over and over, and I pull his hand up to my face to press a kiss into the palm.
He looks up at me suddenly, his eyes a penetrating, azure fire that burns straight to my heart.
"When Connor landed on that fucker, I didn't hafta think about what needed doin'. I grabbed th'toilet lid an' beat that Russian fuck til he didn't move anymore. I didn't regret it then, an' I don't regret it now. An' den I couldn't wake Connor up, couldn't get 'im to move, an' I t'ought he was dead fer a full second. Den that asshole finally breathed again, an' I felt his pulse, an' it was like the world clicked back inta place. Only time I've ever felt anywhere near dat lost is when we found ye in th'alley not movin', wit' dose assholes standin' over ye."
He pauses, deliberating over his next words. "Grace, fer a full second, I had t'face t'world wit'out me brudder, an' it nearly killed me. I can't do it again...but wit' what we're doin' now, what we have t'do, I might have t'face it, an' I don't know how I could...how to-"
I shift down a little so Murphy's face is pressed into my neck, keeping him from having to finish that sentence. I don't have any soothing or reassuring words to give him that will make all this better. I don't even have an emotional band-aid I can put on this to at least cover it up and make it feel better for now.
I kiss his forehead and the damp corners of his eyes, his eyebrows, his cheekbones, the mole by the corner of his mouth.
"As much as I'm able, I understand," I murmur against his forehead. His arms tighten around me, and he holds me tightly for a long time. After a few minutes, I feel him shift beside me. Then he grips me hard, rolling us until I'm lying on top of him, my ear resting on his chest above his heart. His nose nudges the top of my head, and he inhales deeply before releasing the breath with a low, tired moan.
"Stay wit' me Grace," he whispers into my hair, unknowingly echoing his brother's words. "Please, just...I need ye, we need ye, an' dis is too hard to do wit'out knowin' I've got ye t'come back to. I know it ain't fair t'put dat weight on ye, but please lass...just...please?"
I squeeze Murphy tightly in response, not trusting my voice to hold steady, and his arms constrict around me again. I feel that uncertainty again, that nagging feeling I had in the shower with Connor earlier that grips my vocal cords tight and keeps me from blurting out a hasty, unthinking yes. This isn't a decision I can make on a whim, and I hate that I can't just tell them both what they want to hear. It's difficult to breathe, but I can't tell if it's from the pressure of Murphy's arms or the tears that are starting to stream from my eyes again.
"I'm like goddamn Niagara Falls," I mutter, turning my face down into Murphy's chest and sniffling. He laughs suddenly, his abdomen shaking underneath me, and I look up at him through my tears. His head is lying back against my pillows, and for the first time since I've come home, his smile is full and genuine.
He turns his eyes to mine, and they are absolutely radiant. "I love ye, Grace. Please don't ever change."
"I make no promises," I grumble, wiping my leaking nose on his shirt and sniffling again. Then he's sitting up and pulling me with him, his hands on my cheeks and his nose an inch from mine.
"You an' Connor an' Roc are me world, an' if ye tell 'em I said dat, I'll make ye pay dearly." He slants his mouth across mine, but his lips are gentle and coaxing instead of the raw force I'm expecting. He steals my breath slowly and sweetly, placing kisses and delicate, enticing touches across my face, my neck, and my shoulders.
"Remind me why I missed you, Murphy."
"Aye, lass. Workin' on it."
We stay in bed together for almost two hours, and Murphy takes more care with me than in all the time we've been together, tasting and exploring, as if he's mapping out and memorizing every inch of me. And my heart aches that much more for him.
"Why are you and Connor so convinced I'm leaving you?" I ask suddenly. "You both seem to think it's a given." I'm lying on my side next to him with my face turned to the wall, shivering slightly from aftershocks, and he pulls me closer so that I feel his breath, warm and enticingly familiar, against my shoulder as he answers.
"Well, when we told ye some of the rougher parts of th'last few days, ye stormed outta the room," Murphy replies reasonably, tracing a tickling line across my hipbone with the tip of his pinky. I squirm under his touch, giggling under my breath at the sensation.
"I stormed out because you idiots were laughing about killing nine men. I failed to see the humor in the situation, so I left before I said something I regretted. It's not that I think you're wrong. I guess it's more that I didn't think you were taking things as seriously as you probably should. Of course, that was before I actually talked to you both alone and without an audience, and...I kind of get it now. I know sometimes, especially when things are the absolute worst they can be, you have to find something to laugh at or you'll go insane."
Murphy doesn't answer, instead continuing to run his fingers down my hips and around the curve of my ass. I murmur something incoherent and pleased, wiggling just a bit closer to him.
"T'ing is, girl, ye didn't see Rocco at dat hotel room. If ye had, ye'd understand why Connor an' I were laughin' so much at 'im. Done up in a fuckin' bellhop outfit, wit' his hair all a mess an' shit, an' a nametag on dat said 'Jaffar.' Of all t'fuckin' name tags he coulda swiped, he ends up wit' Jaffar. And den once he knew it was us an' saw what we'd done, he was jumpin' around like a deranged monkey on crack, spoutin' every version of t'word 'fuck' dat ye could t'ink of an' prob'ly a few ye can't."
"I guess you had to be there," I sigh, a corner of my mouth tilting up at the mental picture Murphy is describing. His fingers continue their exploration, moving around and over my hip before sliding underneath me on the side furthest from him. Without warning, he flips me over onto my back and drops down on top of me so we're touching from chest to shins. His pupils are huge, the blue barely showing around the rims, and he nudges my nose with his.
"Ye done with tender an' delicate, now, lass?"
"Oh, God yes," I manage to choke out through my suddenly arid mouth. I swipe my tongue over my lips, moistening them before catching my breath again as Murphy's teeth scrape harshly over the juncture of my neck and shoulder. "Do your worst."
Author's Note: Don't be mad things with Murphy weren't more explicit; he'll get his time. I'm glad I have such a lovely backlog of chapters because I've hit another one of those walls again. The reviews everyone left were so lovely. Thanks so much, and also another shout out to bleedingrose0688, to whom I should really shout out every chapter, for going over things and making the story soooo much better. Gonna work on breaking down that wall. Thanks for reading, everyone. If you liked it, leave a thought or two in the box on your way out.