First line was was actually inspired by a line in this fic by @szatears, please check it out :)
Preview: âI done told you to watch that mouth ainât I?â He snapped before undoing his belt and stalking towards you."
Word Count: 2.25k
Warning â ď¸: Strong Sexual Themes + Smut (18+ Material)
A/N I watched Sinners yesterday and pumped this fic out today. I'm back in my writing era đ¤ đđžââď¸
___
If there was one thing Smoke didnât like, it was an attitude. Whether he deserved it or not.Â
So when the man who had skipped town 4 years ago appeared on your door step you knew heâd have something to say about you kissing your teeth, huffing and rolling your eyes.Â
âWhat are you doing here Smoke?"
He took a drag out of his cigarette.
 âNow that ainât no way to greet a man Annie.â
Your eyes slid over him. He was covered in a tailored tweed 5 piece suit and his bulk couldnât be hidden. Thick arms, a broad chest and a wicked smile with golds peaking out.Â
Smoke Moore. Nothing better.Â
You took him in.Â
âAinât you gonna let me in?â He grinned and leaned on your door frame.Â
You squinted your eyes at him. Thoughts of that night at the Juke years ago surfaced. Your breath caught in your throat.Â
âYou ainât never needed me to do that before.â
He sucked another mouthful of smoke from his cigarette. And blew it towards you. Your eyes watered a bit and you glared, gripping the doorframe tighter.Â
âMaybe I need you to now.â There was a beat.Â
âYou donât need an invitation. You just come and go as you please. Iâve given up on trying to keep you away. Itâs a waste of time.â
He smirked something fierce.Â
âYeah you right. I was just fucking with ya.â
He flicked the cigarette into the grass and pushed past Annie, not without placing his paws on her body to maneuver her out of the way.Â
One hand grabbed her waist, the other palmed her heavy breast before squeezing past her and into her quaint home.Â
Smoke had it made for her. For them.Â
One of the last things he did for her before he skipped town.Â
ââ
Heâd picked her up from her rotten daddies house and told her to pack a bag. He strapped her into that car and drove them over to the tiny plot of land heâd procured. And there it sat, a little home. 2 bedrooms and a âkitchen meant for cookingâ as he called it.Â
He held her as her eyes watered and whispered.Â
âYou like it baby girl? Itâs yours. You ainât never gotta worry bout a place to lay your head again.â
And there they spent the next 2 days holed up and christening the house. Even the kitchen meant for cooking.Â
_____
Smokes eyes took the place in. The small house heâd bought, youâd made it into a home. You brought in an ice chest and had decorated it, your personality showed in every corner.Â
He smelled bacon on the stove and the nostalgia hit him like a brick.Â
âYou making greens?â
âWhatâs it to you?â You replied with your back turned towards him.Â
He loved your greens.
You didnât know what to do with him back in your space. You felt activated. Didn't know whether to run to him or away from him.
You took a deep breath and composed yourself. And turned around only to see him fishing for a cigarette.Â
âDonât you smoke that shit in here.â You snapped.Â
He looked at you and paused before nodding and sliding the pack back into his jacket pocket.Â
He lifted his hands up.Â
âYouâre right sweet girl. My bad. I know you donât like that in the house.â
âThank you.â You whispered to yourself. Feeling relief at the inch of control you had gained back.Â
He knew you thought it was a nasty habit and if he wanted to smoke, heâd have to do it outside your home.Â
Say what you wanted to say about Smoke, he knew how important this space â your home â was to you. And you didnât want anyone to ruin it. Even the man who built it for you.Â
âWhy are you here?â You asked.Â
âWeâre back now. Iâm back now. For good.â
You scoffed.
âWhat you had all your fun? Running around Chicago with your brother? Fucking all them northern whores?â You sneered.Â
His eyes watched you. You hated how they could see right through you. You werenât jealous. You were hurt.Â
His eyes glowered. âWatch your mouth.â
How could he just give you the best few days of your life and just leave without a trace? Leaving you to hear news about him and his brother through the grape vine.Â
How dare he tell you what to do?
âOr what?â You snapped back. This was 4 years of pain. Of hurt. Of anger.Â
âWhat, you tired of them? Wanted to swing back on down and fuck your southern whore too? Taste the mother fucking rainbow?â
âYou not no whore Annie.â He warned again.Â
Your eyes shimmered with angry tears.Â
âHow you know I wasn't up and down these streets? You not the only one who likes to fuck.â You snapped back.Â
He smirked a knowing smile on his lips.Â
âYou wasnât fucking these niggas. You forget that I know you. You wouldnât let em get a chance.âÂ
And you hated him because it was true.Â
âFuck you Smoke.â You spat. You could almost see the vein pop from his temple.Â
Smoke didnât like an attitude. Whether he deserved it or not.Â
âI done told you to watch that mouth ainât I?â He snapped before undoing his belt and stalking towards you.Â
You backed up against the wall. Fiery defiant eyes staring back at him.Â
He bullied his way into the space between your plush thighs. Sticking his face into your neck and breathing deeply. He kissed you. Once. Twice.Â
âWhy are you back?â You whispered brokenly.Â
He ignored your question and worked quickly to push your dress over your thick hips.Â
âYou werenât ever this rude before Annie.â He mused while manipulating your body to be exactly where he wanted it to be. He knew your body like the back of his hand. You was his and nobody elseâs.Â
That was law.Â
His fingers found your sex and you couldnât help the gasp that left your lips.Â
Smokes fingers stroked between your folds before sliding into her. The wetness soaked his fingers immediately.Â
He kept his eyes on your face. He loved the faces you made. And right now your head was thrown back and your plump lips parted slightly.Â
Quickly the sound of the small home was filling with deep breathing and whimpers.Â
âWhy? Are you back?â You managed to breathe out between moans.Â
Was he here for good or was he just passing by?Â
âI must not be doing a good job if you still asking me all these questionsâŚâ he mused. He added another finger for good measure.Â
Unfortunately, that did shut you up.Â
He took the other hand and palmed at your breast and tweaked a nipple and you groaned deeply.Â
He smiled, nothing but pure joy on his face.Â
âYou ainât have nobody here to tell you⌠to teach you your manners. That's why I came back.â He stated.Â
He bent his fingers within you once before sliding out and replacing them with his tongue.Â
He expertly licked into you. Letting your essence coat his lips.Â
Smoke loved him some you. When he had his fill he stood up and captured your lips in his.Â
You tasted yourself on him.Â
He looked down at you. You were thoroughly debauched. âYou ready for me?âÂ
You nodded lazily, you could barely think straight. Smoke liked you this way sometimes. Pliant and easy. He could move you any which way he wanted.Â
He graciously turned you around and pressed you into the wall.Â
âIâm gonna fuck you now princess. And you gonâ like it.â
âYes daddy.â You whispered and thatâs what drove Smoke to press himself right into you, and he felt you stretching to accommodate him.Â
Now it was his time to groan.Â
âFuck.â He spat out.Â
You giggled. That didnât last long as he pulled out slowly and thrust back in with intention.Â
That giggle turn into a graphic sound he would file away for later. You were so responsive for him.Â
There you began your dance. Smoke began a slow and intentional rhythm. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear the entire time.Â
Still your question persisted despite the pleasure filled fog which filled your head.Â
âWhy you back Smoke?â You managed to whisper.Â
He grunted. You wasnât letting this go. Could he blame you?Â
He changed his pace, to something more punishing. Something that would make you forget you were angry with him at all.Â
âWhy? I needed to set you straight. Thatâs why. Remind you of how to act right.â He thrusted after each sentence.Â
Your moans got louder with every thrust. But he kept his pace.Â
âYou got this attitude because I ainât been here to fuck it outta you. And for that baby I was wrong.â He crooned into your ear.Â
âItâs my fault.â He stated.Â
He pumped into you relentlessly. And you took every thrust like a champ.Â
âBlame me mama.â He whispered. It almost got quiet in the room.
The unspoken "not yourself" conveniently omitted from the end of his sentence. Just two bodies doing a dance as old as time.Â
He reached over to grip your breasts again and pluck at your nipples.Â
Your broken moans filled the space. He knew your body like no other. You were made for him.Â
âThatâs right.â He encouraged, he loved to hear you.Â
âIâm back now baby. Daddyâs here and heâs gonna take such good care of you.â He breathed heavily into your ear.Â
You were overcome with emotion. Your eyes watered. Was that a promise? You couldnât do another broken promise.Â
âDonât you say that Elijah. Don't you dare lie to me. I canât take it anymore.â You panted out.Â
âYouâll take what I give you.â He snapped.Â
Why was he like this? Why did you love this?Â
Your head dropped low. Because he was right. You would take what he gave you. Even if it was lies or castles built up in the sky.Â
You were a fool. And you loved him.Â
He slid his hand into your hair, grasping your curls.Â
You were Smokeâs to play with. To have, hold, fuck and scold. You didnât pretend you didnât know it.
âChin up.â You tilted your chin up and his grip on your curls tightened.Â
âGood girl.â
You moaned. Â
He kissed your ear before speaking.Â
âThis time I ainât lyinâ.â He kissed your cheek.Â
This was feeling good. You were barley listening. He could tell you he could sprout wings and fly right now and youâd believe him as long as he didnât stop.Â
âIâm back for good. I did what I needed to do out in Chicago. For you. For us. We donât never gotta worry about money ever again.â
âIt was never about the money.â You managed to gasp out.Â
âShhhhh.â He coaxed.Â
That was another thing that came up in the past. Smoke was money motivated. He didnât understand that you just wanted him. Nothing else.Â
He never wanted to be under the control of another man because of some money. So he went and got him some.Â
âI thinkâŚ" He pondered for a bit before continuing.
"I think Iâm gonna fuck a few babies into you tonight Annie. Your body was made for it. For me.â
Your walls immediately clenched onto him.Â
âGonna have a bunch of em fat and happy running all around this place.â
Tears dripped from your eyes. The pleasure, the visuals, the stimulation. It was all too much.Â
He didnât stop.Â
âYou want that baby girl? Want daddy to put a couple babies in you?â Â
You wailed. Short circuited even.Â
Because Smoke knew. He knew thatâs all you ever wanted. Him. And a family. And he wouldnât tease you about that.Â
âYes! Yes! I want â â
âYeah? You gonna have to say please mama. You how I feel about them manners.â He grinned wickedly.Â
How he managed to stay aware enough to play you like this was beyond your comprehension.Â
âPlease!â You wailed out.Â
âPlease what?â
âPlease make me a mama!â
His finger slipped to your clit quickly and he watched your face in wonder as your orgasm washed over you. Â
You clutched onto him desperately to prevent yourself from falling.Â
âThatâs my girl.â he hissed. Before thrusting and unloading his seed right into you.Â
â
Itâs been a few hours and you and Smoke were laid out in a blanket on a cot on the floor.Â
Drunk on each other.Â
He had fed you peaches from the jar right from his hands and had quelled any fears youâd had about him leaving you again, from in between your legs.Â
âIf itâs a girl we gon' name her Amiyah. After my mama.â You whispered into his chest.Â
He kissed your head. âWhatever you want.â Â
âAnd if itâs a boy I wanna name him Erik Stevens.â
He furrowed his brow.Â
âErik Stevens? Where you get that name from?â
âI donât know I just like it. You donât like it?â You asked, looked up at him.Â
He scoffed. âThat sounds like the name of a bandit.â Â
You pinched his skin between your fingers. âHey.â You frowned.Â
He looked down at your big brown eyes and melted.Â
âYou really like that name?âÂ
You nodded.Â
âAight, I can be convinced.â He brought you closer to him and you both just sat in silence basking in your love.
He scoffed again. âErik StevensâŚâ
âWhat is your problem?â You asked perplexed. Fingers stroking his chest.Â
âI donât like it. He sound like a boy who ainât go no manners.âÂ
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That was what Stack would think later â not the men, not the route she'd taken, not any of the hundred small decisions that had compounded into catastrophe. The wisteria. Because if Annie didn't love those ridiculous purple flowers the way she did, she wouldn't have made the detour she made every Tuesday, and if she hadn't made the detour, none of the rest of it would have happened.
But Annie loved her wisteria, and there was nothing to be done about that.
She had discovered the vine three springs ago, growing wild along the fence line of an abandoned lot on the far end of Decatur Street â a great sprawling tangle of it, untended, extravagant, spilling purple down the rotted wood like it had decided to be beautiful despite everything. She had stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk and stared at it for a full minute. Stack had been with her that day, and he had watched her stare, and even then he'd known it was over.
She had gone back every Tuesday since.
Sometimes she brought cuttings home for her workroom. Sometimes she just stood there for a while, among the smell of it. Sometimes she brought a small cloth and wiped the blooms down â which was, Stack maintained, the most Annie thing that had ever happened in the history of Annie things.
"You cleaning flowers," he'd said once, watching her from the gate.
"They dusty," she'd said, without turning around.
"They outside, mama. They supposed to be dusty. They don't know the difference."
"I know the difference."
He had laughed until his ribs hurt. Had told Smoke that evening, and they'd both laughed again. And the next Tuesday she'd gone back, and the Tuesday after, and it had simply become part of the architecture of their week.
Tuesday was Annie's wisteria day.
That particular Tuesday morning, she'd been in good spirits.
Stack remembered that too â the specific quality of her mood, light and anticipatory, the way she'd hummed while she dressed and come to find him in the warm tangle of the bed where he was still trying to talk himself into consciousness.
She'd perched on the edge of the mattress and put her hand on his arm. "I'm heading out. Market first, then Decatur."
"Mm." He'd found her hand without opening his eyes. "Your flowers."
"My wisteria," she corrected, with the primness of a woman defending something she knew was ridiculous and had decided not to care. "They were coming in beautiful last week. I want to take some cuttings before the heat gets to emâ."
"You and them flowers, I swear." He'd cracked one eye open to look at her. She was already done up â hair pinned, a pale yellow dress, looking like the kind of morning a man would want to wake up into. "Normal women collect dishes. Spoons. You out here unnaturally attached to a weed."
"Wisteria ainât a weed."
"It's growing on an abandoned fence, in the middle ofâ"
"It is not a weed," she said, with great dignity, and he'd laughed and pulled her down and kissed her temple and her cheek and the corner of her mouth until she was trying not to smile and failing completely.
"You a crazy woman," he'd murmured into her hair. Fond. Helplessly fond.
"You in love with this crazy woman," she'd said back, soft and certain, and pressed her lips to his jaw before she stood and smoothed her dress and went.
He'd listened to her footsteps move through the house. The quiet of the front door.
Then he'd turned his face back into the pillow and gone back to sleep, easy and untroubled, because it was Tuesday and Annie was going to the market and then to her flowers and then home.
That was how Tuesday worked.
The juke was quiet in the late afternoon â the interim hour between the day men leaving and the night crowd arriving, when the place belonged mostly to the staff and the sound of chairs being set right.
Stack was going over the week's receipts at the back table when Deacon Hollis wandered in, which was not unusual. Deacon was seventy-something and had been drinking at this particular establishment through three different owners and two of his own wives. He came in most afternoons for one glass of something and whatever conversation was available.
He settled at the bar and said to the boy wiping down the counter, "Busy on Decatur Street today. Had to go all the way around."
Stack didn't look up.
The bar boy made a sound of mild interest.
"Some kind of commotion," Deacon continued, with the relish of a man who had no urgent business anywhere and could therefore linger on details. "Couple hours back, maybe more. Police come through, asked some questions. Seemed like somebody saw something they shouldn't have, or something got moved that shouldn't be."
Stack turned a page.
"Right near that empty lot," Deacon added. "The one with all them purple flowers on the fence."
Stack's hand stilled on the page.
Just his hand. Nothing else visible changed â not his expression, not his posture, nothing that the room would have clocked as meaningful. But his hand stopped moving, and in the space behind his eyes something very cold and very focused began assembling itself.
The lot with the purple flowers.
Annie's lot. Annie's Tuesday. Annie who had left that morning with a cloth in her bag for wiping down the blooms and had said I want to take some cuttings before the heat gets to them and whom he had not heard from since.
He set the receipts down.
"Deacon," he said, and his voice came out even. Measured. "What time you say that was?"
Deacon turned on his stool, pleased to have an audience. "Oh, two o'clock maybe? Half past? The officers was already gone by the time I come through, but old Ruth from the dress shop was still standing outside talking about it. Said she'd seen a womanâ"
Stack was already standing.
Deacon blinked. "You alright, son?"
But Stack was already moving through the back, already pulling the curtain aside that separated the main room from the office where Smoke was doing what Smoke was always doing â sitting with numbers and a cigarette and that particular quality of stillness that could mean anything or nothing.
Smoke looked up.
He took one look at his brother's face and put the cigarette down.
"Talk," he said.
Stack talked. Smoke listened with the unnerving focus he brought to all things that required it, and when Stack finished, Smoke didn't say anything for a moment. Just looked at the middle distance. Doing the same arithmetic Stack had already done and arriving at the same unbearable sum.
Then he stood, picked up his coat, and said, "Let's go find out."
They found out.
A man named Lenny Briggs, one of their runners, who had heard something he hadn't known what to do with and had been working up the courage to come to the juke when Stack found him first on the corner of Fifth and Marsh. Lenny had the look of a man who would have preferred not to be found.
He told them what he knew.
Slimâs men â a rival outfit who had been circling the east side numbers territory for the better part of a year, looking for a pressure point, looking for the particular lever that would bring the Moore brothers to a table they hadn't chosen. They had found their lever. They had taken her off the street somewhere between the market and the lot â right around the wisteria, which Stack would think about for a long time after â and they had her at the old Beaumont property on the south road.
Lenny gave the address with the energy of a man trying to make a down payment on his own continued wellbeing. Stack received the information without expression, said "Thank you" in a voice that was quiet and even and somehow worse than shouting, and turned south.
Smoke fell into step beside him and put one hand briefly on his brother's arm. The old signal. Wordless. Be smart. We get her first. Everything else after.
Stack's jaw was granite. He nodded once.
They were smart. They were fast.
There were two men outside and three within.
Smoke handled the outside â efficient, practiced, the kind of violence that begins and ends cleanly because it has a purpose and knows what that purpose is. Then he pushed through the door.
Stack was still in the room with the last one.
The man was on the floor. Had been on the floor for a while, by the look of it. Stack was crouched over him, one knee on the ground, and he was not finished. The man had stopped being a threat some time ago and Stack had continued anyway, methodical and terrifyingly quiet â no rage in his face, which was somehow worse than rage. Just something hollow and absolute, like a door that had been opened onto nothing.
Smoke stood in the doorway for a moment and watched.
Then he said, "Stack."
Stack didn't stop.
"Stack." Harder this time. Not a shout â Smoke didn't shout â but weighted. The kind of voice that expected to be heard.
Stack's hand stilled.
He stayed crouched for a moment, breathing. The sound of it filled the room â ragged, too fast.
Smoke crossed to him and put one hand on the back of his neck. Firm and present. "She's in the back," he said, low. "She's okay. We got her. Come on back now."
A long beat.
Stack looked down at what was in front of him. Something shifted in his face â not quite recognition, not quite regret. More like a man surfacing from very deep water and finding the light strange.
He stood. Didn't say anything. Just turned and walked toward the back of the building, and Smoke followed, and neither of them looked back at the room.
The door came off its hinges.
Not broken â removed. Stack had simply decided it was in his way and dealt with it accordingly, and Smoke caught it without breaking stride and set it against the wall with the quiet efficiency of a man long accustomed to making the world cooperate, and stepped through the threshold behind his brother.
The room was dim. Smelled like damp wood and kerosene and something metallic that neither of them dwelled on.
And there, in the far corner â
There she was.
Their matriarch. Their woman. Their Annie.
Smoke exhaled. Just the one breath. One single moment of relief so complete it was almost physical, before he folded it away and put it somewhere safe.
Stack didn't bother with any of that.
He crossed the room in four long strides. Annie barely had time to register him before he pressed her back against the wall â not rough, not cruel, but absolute. Like he needed something solid behind her. Like he needed to know she couldn't be taken anywhere else.
"Stackâ" Smoke started.
The younger twin didn't hear him. Or if he did, it didn't matter.
His hands came up to her face. Both of them. Palms bracketing her jaw, thumbs moving across her cheekbones, fingers pressing back into her hair. Frantic eyes cataloguing everything â the dried tear tracks, the slight swelling at her wrist, the small cut at the corner of her lip that made something behind his eyes go very briefly and very darkly wrong before he forced himself onward. Keep checking. Keep confirming.
Here. Alive. Breathing. Theirs. Home.
Annie had never felt more precious than in that moment. Not cherished â that was too soft a word for what was happening. Something rawer. Something that lived below language.
Once he had confirmed what he needed to confirm, he swept down and claimed what had always been his.
Blood still painted his face. She could smell the iron as he descended, and some distant sensible part of her registered that it should frighten her â the state of him, what it implied, the fact that none of that blood was his.
But she was not always a sensible woman when it came to these men.
She let him have it. Let him take the kiss like it was owed â because it was. Raw and primal and a little gruesome the way all true things are a little gruesome. His chest heaved against hers, and his hands were trembling â Stack's hands, which she had never once seen tremble â moving over her arms, her sides, her face. Touching. Feeling. Verifying.
She felt it all move through her like weather. His fear. His fury. His absolute, immovable devotion.
I know, she thought. I know, baby. I know.
She murmured it into his hair when he finally broke, forehead dropping to her shoulder, a shudder moving through him she felt with her whole body.
"I know. I'm here."
Smoke stood back and watched.
Because Stack needed this. Maybe Annie needed it too â to be held this completely, this desperately, after hours of not knowing when or whether. But Stack needed it most. So Smoke stayed where he was and gave the man the room.
Annie met the older twin's eyes over Stack's bowed head.
Nothing passed between them except everything. She saw the tightness at the corner of his jaw. The controlled version of the same thing Stack was barely containing. She held his gaze until she saw his shoulders drop a single fraction of an inch.
I see you. I'm alright. He's alright. We're alright.
Stack made a sound then â small and cracked and quiet, pressed into her shoulder. The kind a man makes only when he doesn't mean to. She felt it like something giving way.
She pulled him in tighter.
"It's okay," she murmured, hand pressing flat between his shoulder blades. "I'm here, baby. I ain't goin' nowhere."
He held on.
Annie had been the one taken.
But it was Stack who felt like he had lost his heart.
A long moment passed. Then, muffled against her shoulder, rough and still unsteady â somewhere between a reprimand and a man who had been terrified into raw honesty:
"And you ain't gonâ do no shit like that again."
Annie closed her eyes.
Her hand moved slow and steady through his hair.
"No," she said softly. "I ain't."
Smoke pulled the lamp low before he sat at the foot of the bed.
It was well past midnight. The house had gone completely quiet. Annie lay in the middle of the bed, Stack curved against her back with his face tucked into her hair, one arm thrown across her waist like a man holding on even in sleep.
Cleaned up now. Dressed down. The blood long gone â Annie had done it herself at the basin, quiet and methodical, and Stack had sat on the edge of the tub and let her. Had not said a word while she washed his hands and his face and his split knuckles, which told their own particular story that she had received without comment and without flinching.
She was awake. Smoke had known she would be.
"He out?" Smoke asked, low.
"Mm. Fought it some." Her hand moved slowly through Stack's curls. "But he's out."
A beat of quiet between them. The lamp flame held steady.
"You alright?" he asked.
"I'm whole," she said. Her particular answer â the one that meant something more than fine and less than undamaged and asked him to understand the distance between those things.
He accepted it. He would look at her properly in the morning.
"Elijah." Soft but weighted.
"I'm listening."
She was quiet a moment, eyes on the ceiling.
"I ainât never seen him like that," she finally said.
Smoke was quiet too, for a long stretch of seconds.
He had been there. He had witnessed what Annie had not fully seen â what had happened in those rooms before they reached her. He knew the shape of what his brother had done, and he knew that Stack, of all people, of all the men Smoke had stood beside in all the years of their lives â Stack was not supposed to be the one who went that far past the line.
"No," Smoke said. "Neither have I."
She absorbed that. Let it settle.
"Was it bad?" she said.
"Depended," Smoke said, "on which side of it you were on."
A breath that was almost a laugh. "That ain't an answer."
"It's the honest one." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, looking at his brother's sleeping face. The furrow still between his brows, even now. "He went past what was needed. Kept going after it was done. I had to call him back." A pause. "Twice."
Annie's hand stilled in Stack's hair for just a moment. Then resumed.
"He was ahead of me the whole way there," Smoke continued, quieter now. "I known Stack all my life. Watched him in situations that would've laid other men down. He's always had something working up here even when he's pushed â he thinks. He's always been able to think." He paused. "Tonight he wasn't thinking."
"What was he doing?" she said.
"Feeling," Smoke said simply.
Annie closed her eyes.
Stack shifted against her in his sleep, brow tightening, and she made a soft sound and his face smoothed again, like he could hear her even under everything.
"He knew something was wrong before anyone told him," she said. Not quite a question.
"Yes."
"How?"
Smoke was quiet for a beat. "Your flowers."
Annie stilled.
"Deacon came in talking about a commotion on Decatur. Near the lot." Smoke glanced at her. "Stack was across the room. He heard the words purple flowers and that was all it took."
Something moved across Annie's face. Too complicated to name.
"All those Tuesdays," she said softly.
"He knows your Tuesdays, Annie." Smoke's voice was matter of fact, the way he said things that were simply true and required no decoration. "He knows how long the market takes and which way you walk and what time you're usually back. He noticed before any message came. Before anyone came to us at all. He put it together himself."
She was very quiet for a moment.
"Lord," she breathed.
Outside, the wind moved through the pecan trees, that soft sound of a summer night settling into itself.
"You need to say something to him when he wakes," Smoke said. "Not about what happened in that room â he doesn't need to explain himself and you don't need the details. But he needs to hear that you see him the same." He looked at her steadily. "That tonight ainât change your eyes when you look at him."
"It didn't," she said. And then, smaller: "It just â added to what's already there."
Smoke held her gaze for a moment. Then nodded once, slowly.
"And me," she said, after a breath.
"And you," he confirmed.
"Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," he agreed. "When he's with us and you've both rested. But Annie." His voice dropped a register, quiet and absolute. "What you love doing, where you go â none of that changes. But how you move through the world when we not with you?" He held her gaze. "That's the conversation we're gonâ to have."
Annie's chin lifted slightly. She didn't argue it. But she held his gaze long enough to communicate that it would be a conversation and not a sentencing, and Smoke acknowledged that with the smallest dip of his head.
Good enough for tonight.
He rose and came around to his side â the familiar geography of their life, every night for years â and settled in.
The bed held all three of them, as it always had.
Annie lay in the dark and looked at the ceiling and listened to the two men breathing, one deep in sleep, one slipping toward it.
She thought about that morning. The yellow dress. The cloth she'd tucked into her bag for the blooms. Stack's voice still rough with sleep, laughing at her â you and those flowers, I swear â and pulling her down and kissing her like she was something ridiculous and wonderful and entirely his.
Crazy woman.
Your crazy woman.
She pressed her lips to his temple in the dark. Soft as a secret.
His arm tightened across her waist even in sleep.
Love should be calm, she thought. Peaceful. The kind of thing you can sleep inside of and wake up still held by.
But she thought about the words purple flowers landing across a quiet room. About the hand going still on the receipts. About Smokeâs thirty-some years of knowing someone so well that the wrong silence sounded like a scream.
The act of love, she thought, was something else entirely.
She exhaled.
She was home.
They were home.
Outside, somewhere, her wisteria grew on its rotting fence â untended, extravagant, stubbornly beautiful â and knew nothing about any of it.
______
A/N If you could find it in your hearts to forgive me? 𼺠Don't know what to say that would explain this absence so I'm not going to say anything. Feels like all I give ya'll is excuses for real. I am okay. Doing well. Life is just lifeing, interviewing for a new job (pray I get it!) I'll be in Chicago next week actually. So I'll def do some writing there :) Hope you're all well. Hope you enjoy this bite sized piece of our lovely trio. Love you <3
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This work of art is part of "The Moore Kind" universe. Where Smoke, Annie, and Stack exist as a Trio. If you'd like to learn more about them, check out My Masterlist đ
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All Fic Taglist - Interested in my future works? Let me know if you'd like me to add you to my tag list. (Also lmk if you want me to remove you. No hard feelings I promise.)
What You Spit, I Swallowed (Smoke Moore x Annie x Stack Moore)
Preview: âIâll beat the breaks off a nigga for touchinâ you,â Smoke said. âYou lucky I didnât.â
Warning â ď¸: They're a Trio. Ya'll gon' feel some things.
Word Count: 4.3k
A/N - I realized I could only edit this for so long and I actually had to post it 𤪠I really appreciate your comments/reblogs, it's what keeps me writing. Can't wait to hear what ya'll think! đ
My Masterlist
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Smoke watched from the living room as Annie bustled around the house making sure everything was just right. The kitchen. The powder room. The cellar which nobody would see. Everything needed to be just right.Â
The roast was in the oven. Table set. Wine poured. Annie stood at the counter, smoothing her hands down the front of her apron, then across the napkins again, though they didnât need fixing.
âCan yâall just be civil? Please?â she said without turning. âFor me. I just want to have a nice dinner tonight. As a family.â
She used that word a lot. Family. Said it like a prayer, a promise. Like saying it out loud might turn it true.
The boys knew better.
Stack was leaning against the archway, a little too relaxed, wine already heavy in his hand.
âIâm always civil,â he grinned. âIâm a delight.â
Smoke didnât say anything at first. Just sat back at the table, stiff as iron, nursing a glass of whisky like medicine. Heâd need it tonight. They both would.
âI ainât lying to nobody,â he muttered, low.
Annie sighed. Not because she disagreed â but because she understood.
They werenât happy about this. Never had been. Melody had a way of turning Annie into someone else â smaller, unsure. And the boys hated that. Hated watching the bold, beautiful woman they loved contort herself to keep the peace. To keep her peace.
So when Annie told them that Melody was gonna be in town and wanted to visit, the news wasnât met with enthusiasm. When they protested she had shut them down, said that special word â family â and the boys knew they didnât have a chance at dissuading her.Â
She laid down the final plate and crossed the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel that didnât need cleaning. Her shoulders were tight. Her smile too practiced.
Melody was Annieâs half-sister. Same father, different everything else. Product of an affair that tore Annieâs whole world sideways and maybe even took her mother to the grave.
She was pretty, and soft-spoken when it served her. But she had a way of reaching back into Annieâs life like she had a claim to it. Like their shared blood gave her a right to rewrite things. Rewrite her.
Melody said things like theyâd grown up hand-in-hand. Like Annie hadnât spent her real childhood alone, and Melody hadnât moved in only after her world fell apart.Â
She touched too casually. Said too much. Knew too little.
And yet⌠Annie kept trying. Trying to stitch something together out of all the scraps theyâd been handed. Trying to make a family out of splinters.
There was a knock at the door.
The roast was carved. Greens passed. Biscuits buttered and cooling fast.
On the surface, everything looked like a proper supper. But Smoke hadnât touched much of his food, and Stack had started drinking like the only way through the night was to float on top of it.
Melody leaned back in her chair, swirling her glass like she had something wise to say. Her gaze landed on the cornbread.
âReminds me of when Mama used to burn the bottoms,â she said with a giggle. âSheâd scrape off the black parts with a knife and pretend it was on purpose. Said it âkept you humble.ââ
Annieâs fork paused mid-air.
Stack didnât look up, but his mouth twitched.
âYou remember that, donât you?â Melody added, too quick. âThat little yellow-handled knife she used for everything?â
Annie swallowed. Set her fork down quiet.
âShe wasnât my mama.â
Melody blinked, like she hadnât expected that to sting.
âWellâno, obviously,â she said, waving a hand like it was silly to be so exact. âI just meant⌠your most recent mama. I mean, she was in the house.â
âShe was in the house,â Annie said evenly.Â
Melody laughed, high and a little breathless, like she could laugh her way out of what just happened.
âWell,â she said, putting her glass down, âfamilyâs funny like that, huh?â She added before placing a hand on Annieâs forearm.
Smokeâs eyes followed the movement with precision.
âSo,â Melody said brightly, trying to start a conversation âyâall ever thought about kids?â
The question hung there, syrupy sweet with expectation.
Annie blinked. âWeâ Weâll know when weâre ready.â
Melodyâs husband Frank leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the show.
The man chuckled, low and grating. âAinât it about time though? Clock donât wait forever. âSpecially for women.â
Smokeâs knuckles tightened around his fork.
âI gotta admit,â he said, folding his arms over his chest, âI didnât know what to expect, cominâ out here. Lotta stories floatinâ âround town.â
Stackâs eyes flicked up from his plate. Smoke didnât move.
âOh yeah?â Annie said, keeping her voice polite. âAnd what kinda stories are those?â
The man shrugged, like he was being reasonable.
âJust⌠folks wondering how something like this works. Three people under one roof. Two men sharinâ a woman âbrothers at that. Sounds more like trouble than a marriage.â
Smoke still didnât look up. But Annie could feel the shift. Like pressure building under floorboards.
âI mean, hell. Where Iâm from, we call that a love triangle, not a household.â
Annie opened her mouth, but Stack beat her to it â voice easy, even playful.
âWell lucky for us, you ainât from here.â
Melody gave her husband a look â the kind that meant youâre doinâ too much â but he didnât seem to notice.
âI just think kids need structure,â he said, âTwo fathers under one roof? Thatâs confusion, not discipline.â
Now Smoke looked up. Real slow.
âYou do a lot of childrearing yourself?â he asked.
The man blinked. âBeg your pardon?â
âYou talkinâ like you got a full house somewhere. How many you got?â the man had a menacing smile plastered on his face.
ââŚNone yet.â
âThen hush.â
The man frowned. Then Frank reached across the table â not for the biscuits, not for the salt. For the gravy boat.
But instead of asking, he leaned in close, placing a steadying hand on Annieâs shoulder as he reached.
His thumb brushed against the strap of her dress.
Too familiar. Too firm.
ââScuse me, darlinâ,â he said, casual like he did it all the time.
It wasnât the touch â it was the way he didnât rush to remove it.
Smoke saw it. So did Stack.
And Annie flinched â just slightly â but enough to be noticed.
That shouldâve been enough. But Melodyâs hand went out â again â brushing Annieâs arm like they were girls sharing secrets instead of strangers dressed in matching last names.
"Mama used to say, âAinât no shame in wantinâ a real man.â Guess you took that to heart, huh, sis? You went and got yourself two!"
Annie winced once more. It was soft, but Smoke saw it. And that was the last straw.
Smoke set his glass down. Quiet. Too quiet.
âYou need to stop touchinâ her so casually.â he said pointing at the woman.
Melodyâs hand stilled against Annieâs arm. Her smile wavered.
âExcuse me?â
âSmoke,â Annie said quickly, trying to smile, trying to control the room. âItâs fine.â
He didnât blink. âIt ainât.â
Stack leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowed but not joking anymore. âHeâs right. You donât know her like that. You ainât earned the right.â
Melodyâs brows arched, scandalized.
Annie stepped in faster this time, voice low but firm.
âEnough.â
She turned toward Smoke, hand light on his shoulder. His muscles were rigid beneath her palm.
âSheâs family,â she said softly. âLetâs not do this right now.â
Stack leaned back, sucked his teeth, clearly biting something back. Smoke didnât move at all.
âShe ainât family to me,â Smoke muttered.
âShe is to me,â Annie snapped. âAnd that should be enough.â
That silenced the table â just long enough for Melodyâs husband to break it again.
âWell,â he said, with a smirk, ânice to see someone wearing the pants in this house.â
Stackâs jaw tightened.
âStack,â Annie warned, before he could speak.
He didnât. But the damage was done.
Melody giggled, smoothing her napkin on her lap like nothing had happened.
Annie went to gather the plates.
âDinnerâs done,â she said. âWhy donât we move to the sitting room? Iâll bring coffee.â
She didnât look at Smoke. Didnât look at Stack either. She just carried the dishes to the kitchen, heart pounding, wishing it all felt less like a lie.
_
The front door clicked shut.
Silence.
Not the quiet kind, but the loaded kind. The kind that rattled inside your chest and made your ears ring.
Annie stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed tight, like she was bracing for impact.
Smokeâs jaw flexed. Stack didnât move.
For a beat, nobody breathed.
Annie exhaled, hard. âDonât start.â
âI ainât startinâ. Iâm finishinâ. The hell was that?â Smokeâs voice cut through the kitchen.
She turned, dish towel clenched tight in her hands. âWhat was what, Smoke?â
âYou told me to stand down. You just about told Stack to shut up. While they sat at our table, runninâ they mouths and touchinâ you like they know you.â
âTheyâre family.â
âNo,â he snapped. âTheyâre not. That man disrespected you. And her? She touched you like sheâs the one that tucks you in at night.â
âStop it.â
Stack stepped in carefully, voice low. âShe made you flinch, baby. We saw it. You donât flinch with us.â
Annie bit her lip. Hard.
âI just wanted one peaceful night. I didnât want a scene.â
âYou wanted peaceâso you offered us up like sacrificial lambs,â Smoke said, voice growing sharp.
âThat ainât fair.â
âNo? You let her talk like yâall shared a childhood. Let that man spit on our marriage with a smile. Then told me to hush?â
âYou think I donât know who she is?â Annieâs voice cracked âI lived with her. She slept in my mamaâs bed two weeks after she was buried. She was Daddyâs second chance and my reminder that Iâd already lost.â
Her eyes glistened, but she didnât cry.
âI was just trying to keep the damn evening from fallinâ apart. You think I liked it? You think I didnât hear every little dig, every look, every word?â
âThen why the hell ainât you say somethinâ?â Stack asked.Â
âBecause Iâm tired!â she shouted. âTired of everything beinâ a fight. Tired of defendinâ my choices, my house, my men. I just wanted a quiet dinner!â
Smokeâs voice dropped cold. âThen donât invite people who only show up to remind you that you alone.â
Annieâs shoulders pulled back like heâd struck her.Â
âAlone?â
âYou got us. But when theyâre here, you act like you donât.â
The room felt smaller. Angrier. Like the walls were listening.
âI ainât the one you should be mad at, Annie,â Smoke said.
âNo. Youâre just the one who wants to be mad for me.â Annie didnât look at him.
He leaned back. Only slightly. But Stack caught it. Smoke prided himself on taking care of his family. Heâd be the bad guy if it meant that they were ok. So for Annie to throw that in his face? It was low.Â
Annie turned on him. âWhat? Go on then. Call me out my name. You been waitinâ all night.â
âI been waitinâ for you to stop pretendinâ you owe that woman somethinâ. Stop shrinkinâ yourself so she can feel taller.â
âAnd I been waitinâ for you to realize the world donât revolve around your damn temper!â
âYâallââ Stack tried.
âElias, stay out of it.â She pointed at him.
That did it. Stackâs hands dropped. He stepped back, mouth flat.
Smokeâs voice turned dangerously soft. âYou tellinâ him to stay out, but you let them strangers walk right in and put hands on whatâs mine?â
Annieâs nostrils flared. She stepped in close.
âDonât talk to me about ownership. Iâm not some bitch you can pull by the leash when I embarrass you.â
Stacks head whipped around. Shock coloured his face.Â
âAnnie. Donât,â Stack warned softly â they didnât talk like this to each other.Â
Smokeâs voice dropped low and clipped. âYou gonâ wanna be real careful with me right now, woman.â
âOr what?â Annie challenged. âYou gonâ bark louder? Show me why everybody outside scared of you?â
He stepped forward. Stack moved fast, blocking him.
âEnough.â Stack said. âWe donât do this shit. This ainât us.â
âNo,â Annie said. âThis is exactly who we are. Pretendinâ this ainât built on shaky ground.â
Looked like Frankâs words had planted a seed.Â
Stack moved like sheâd slapped him.
âYou think itâs shaky?â Smokeâs voice shook. âYou think we ainât holdinâ you up every day? Lovinâ you, buildinâ you back from the goddamn inside?â
His voice cracked â just slightly.
âI would burn this house down to protect you,â he said, softer now. âAnd you out here handinâ matches to people who never cared whether you froze.â
âShe disrespected you, Annie,â Stack said, voice stiff. âRight to your face. And you smiled through it. Made us smile through it too.â
âOh, Iâm sorry,â Annie laughed bitterly. âWas I supposed to let yâall growl and swing your dicks like dogs markinâ a tree?â
âWatch your mouth,â Smoke said slowly.
âNoâyou watch yours. I let you bark, posture. The minute I asked you to sit like a man, you sulked like a whipped boy.â
There it was. The heat. The disrespect.
âAnnieâŚâ Stack said, quiet, alarmed.Â
âIâll beat the breaks off a nigga for touchinâ you,â Smoke said. âYou lucky I didnât.â
âElijahâtheyâre family.â she tried to plead.
âSo you gotta put up with disrespect?â
Annie threw her hands up, all syrup and sass. âThe Moores got morals tonight!â
Stack cursed under his breath. Smoke went still as death.
âFix them lips to say somethinâ crazy again, Annie,â Smoke warned. âSee if I donât remind you why you call me daddy.â
She tilted her head. âYou sassinâ?â
âCâmon now yâallâŚâ Stack said half-terrified.
Smoke stepped closer, his voice dropping into something dark and dangerous. âItâs gonâ be real hard to take you serious if you got my seed drippinâ from your hole. Test me.â
Annieâs throat bobbed. She was gonna take that bait.
âDo not,â Stack said, sharp and urgent.
Too late.
âAnnieâs sorry â ainât ya, baby?â he tried, reaching for a lifeline.
âThe hell I am,â she snapped.
âDonât be a hero,â Stack warned, tension threading through his voice. âHe gonâ turn you out, and Iâma join him.â
Annie looked at him, eyes glittering. Daring them both.
Smoke started up once more, âWeâll paint your insides white just how you like it. Remind you you the property of the Moores â no one elseâs.â
âProperty? Thatâs what I am to you?â she shot back. âA place to plant your damn flag?â
He shrugged. âYou said it, not me.â
âI ainât land. You donât own me.â
âYou act like disrespectinâ us is rent you pay,â he shot back, voice cold.Â
That line came from somewhere deep â deeper than Smoke usually let show.
âIf Iâm so damn disrespectful,â Annie stepped in close, venom curling her words, âwhy you still crawlinâ back to this disrespectful pussy every night?â
Stack looked away. Smoke didnât blink.
âThatâs right,â she pressed. âYou talk all this mine mine mine shit, but you only feel like a man when Iâm on my knees, begginâ for it.â
âFix them lips, woman,â he said, low and mean.
âWhat? You donât like it when I talk back? Only like me with your dick down my throat?â
âIt make a fine picture.â Stack muttered from the side.Â
âI like it when you remember whoâs keepinâ you safe. Lovinâ you every goddamn day while you spit in our faces.â Smoke reasoned.
âIâm done talking to you.â she spoke lowly.Â
âCâmon now,â Smoke said, voice soft and twisted. âSay somethinâ real filthy. You good at that when your jawâs slack and your legs spread.â
âSmoke,â Stack snapped. âYou know what you doinâ. Stop provokinâ her.â
âNah,â Smoke said without even looking at him. âShe a big girl. She can take whatever daddy dish out, right?â
Stack stepped in. âIt ainât fair, Smoke. You know it ainât fair.â
Smoke paused. Just a second. There were two of them. One of her. It was unbalanced. Always would be.
He sighed, started to lift a hand â maybe to apologize.
But he didnât get the chance.
Annie spat in his face.
It hit his cheek and stuck.
For one sharp breath, nobody moved.
Annie stood perfectly still, chest rising hard. Her jaw clenched, eyes shiningânot with tears, but with fury. She didnât flinch. Didnât look away.
Then Smoke cracked.
Stack caught him hard at the chest, shoving him back.
âDonât.â
Smoke went still.
The spit clung to his cheek, hot and humiliating. He didnât wipe it. Just stared â right at her.
Annieâs hands curled into fists at her sides. Her spine was stiff, posture defiant. But there was something flickering in her eyes now.Â
âI wanna fuck that disrespect right outta her,â he muttered, voice low and rough.
He stepped toward her â not to strike, but to claim, to punish her with the only kind of control he knew wouldnât break her.
Annieâs breath caught. Just barely.
Stack stepped in fast â arm out, body angled between them.
âAnd we donât do things that way,â he snapped, sharp and firm.
Their eyes locked. For a long, brittle second, it felt like something might break.
âYou want her like that? Broken?â Stack asked his brother.Â
The picture he painted with that statement stung.Â
He didnât want her like that. Giving in because she didnât have a choice. Because he âbestedâ her.Â
He wanted it offered to him, because she felt like he deserved it. He didnât wanna take it.Â
âYou keep pushinâ, you gonâ scare her,â Stack said, quieter now. âAnd she donât deserve that from you.â
That stopped him.
Smokeâs jaw ticked hard, and he deflated.Â
Behind Stack, Annie was still frozen in placeâarms locked at her sides, as if afraid any movement might shatter the silence.
âTake a walk,â Stack added. âRight now. Before you say somethinâ you canât unsay.â
âYou still ours,â he said. âAinât nothinâ shifted in that.â
She squeezed once.Â
âHe didnât even flinch,â she whispered. âBut his eyes⌠they changed.â
Stack squeezed her hand. âHe was mad. That donât mean he stopped carinâ.â
âHeâs scared. Same as you,â Stack said. âThatâs what it isâfear dressed up as fire.â
She exhaled hard, like sheâd been holding her breath for hours.
âI didnât mean toââ
âYou meant it,â he cut in gently but firm. âDonât lie to me.â
That shut her up. Her mouth pressed into a hard line.
âYou meant it,â Stack said again, softer this time, âand thatâs whatâs eatinâ him up.â
Silence fell between them. Heavy. Thick with things they couldnât take back.
She looked toward the door, then back at Stack.
âYou mad at me too?â
He sighed. âDonât matter what Iâm feelinâ. Youâre my wife. My family. I stand with youâeven when I donât like how it went down.â
âIâm sorry, Stack,â she whispered.
He gave a small shrug. âDonât be sorry. Be sure.â
Then he stood and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Her eyes fluttered closed at the touch.
âI'm gonâ fix my plate again,â he murmured. âIf I donât eat, I get mean.â
That earned him the smallest laugh. But it was what he needed to hear. Enough to know she was still with him.
âI set aside your favourite,â she murmured, voice rough but soft. âKept it warm in the oven⌠in that little dish with the blue trim. Knew youâd want a snack later.â
He paused, and his eyes flicked to hers â just for a second. That did something to him.
âAlways lookinâ out,â he said, almost to himself.
Then, quieter: âLove you, baby.â
One more kiss to her head. Then he turned for the kitchen, shoulders squared a little taller than before.
__
The door creaked open.
Smoke stood in the threshold like he wasnât sure he had the right to come back in. Smoke looked different. Not unraveled â not quite. But quieted. Like whatever storm had rolled through him had lost its bite, leaving behind a man instead of a tempest.
Annie didnât turn. She sat curled on the couch, knees tucked beneath her, her hand still in Stackâs. The fire had burned low, its glow casting soft shadows across the room. Silence pressed in like fog.
Smoke stepped inside, slow and cautious, like a man testing floorboards for landmines. His eyes found her first. She didnât flinch. But she didnât look up, either.
âI scared you,â he said, voice low.
No one answered.
He stood there a beat longer, hat in hand, shoulders heavy.
âI talked about owninâ you. Fuckinâ the disrespect outta you,â he went on, his voice thick. âThat ainât love talk. Thatâs not somethinâ you say to the woman you love.â
Annie shifted slightly. Stackâs thumb moved gently over her knuckles.
âI ainât proud of it,â Smoke murmured. âIâm sorry.â
Still, neither of them spoke.
Smoke let out a breath through his nose, rough around the edges.
âI was mad you shut us down,â he said. âMad you didnât let us defend you. But I didnât come at you like a husband. I came at you like a man who forgot what kind of woman he had.â
That made her look up.
Her eyes were still red, but she met his gaze steady.
âYou did scare me,â she said softly.
Stackâs jaw ticked, but Annie gave his hand a squeezeâlike she was okay.
âAnd I hurt yâall too,â she added. âShut you down in your own home. Made you feel unheard. That wasnât right.â
She stood, slow and deliberate. Smoke didnât move.
âYou and Stack⌠youâre my peace,â she said. âMy anchor. And tonight I treated you like a storm. All âcause I let my past talk louder than the two men who actually built something with me.â
She stepped toward Smoke now, close enough her chest brushed his.
âIâm sorry I spit,â she said, quieter still. âThat was⌠uncalled for. And beneath me.â
Smokeâs brow furrowed, something soft and pained flickering in his eyes. His hand came up, cradling her jaw.
âYou still ours?â he asked.
She nodded once.
âYours. Always.â
Behind them, Stack smiled to himself.Â
Then Annie turned to Stack.
The man looked caught off guardâhis brows lifted, lips parting like he wasnât expecting the spotlight.
âIâm sorry I made you feel secondary today, baby,â she said. âLike your opinion didnât matter. Like you were less than.â
âWhoa, nowâI ainât say all that,â Stack replied, lifting a hand.
âYou didnât have to,â she murmured. âI see now what I was doing. And it was wrong. Youâre every bit a part of this, and I treated you like a bystander. Iâm sorry, Elias. Truly.â
Stack blinked. For a second, he didnât know what to say.
Smoke chimed in, voice low. âAnd thank you.â
Stack looked over.
âI was losinâ my head in here,â Smoke said. âAnd you got me right. You always do.â
âWell,â Stack drawled, clearing his throat and smoothing down his collar. âNow that yâall mention it⌠you right. I am the star of todayâs show. Glad thatâs been properly acknowledged.â
That earned him a chuckle from both Annie and Smoke.
He folded his arms and leaned back, cocky as ever. He thrusted his chin at Annie âYou can show me your gratitude in peach cobbler.â
Annie arched a brow. âPeach cobbler?â
âYes maâam. And donât cheap out it either. I need hella peaches in there.â he said dead serious.Â
âAnd youââ he looked at Smoke, âyou can take stock at the juke for the next week.â
âThree days,â Smoke countered.
âFive.â
âDeal.â
They shook on it, solemn as preachers.Â
Annie laughedâquiet, but realâand turned to glance over her shoulder.
âWell,â Stack said, breaking the lingering tension with a dry drawl, ânow that everyoneâs sorry⌠can we go back to actinâ like Melodyâs husband donât eat with his damn mouth open and ask questions like âwhat yâall do for moneyâ like he ainât got food crumbs in his mustache?â
Annie barked a laugh. Smoke cracked a grin despite himself.
âMm,â Annie said, eyes dancing, âmaybe Iâll go spit on him next time.â
Smoke raised a brow. âYou better not. Iâm the only one gettinâ that kind of disrespect.â
She smirked. âSo⌠the âfuckinâ the disrespect outta meâ thing⌠that still on the table, or?â
Stack groaned, loud and dramatic, dragging a hand down his face. âIâm leavinâ the room.â
âNo, no,â Annie said quickly, reaching out to stop him. Her voice softened. âI want all my boys,â she murmured. âMy family. With me tonight.â
Stack froze.
Smoke looked up at herâreally looked.
Smokeâs lips brushed her temple. Stack kissed her shoulder.
The house, so loud just an hour ago, fell to hush.
Just heartbeats.
Just them.
And the slow, quiet burn of still belonging to one another.
__
A/N Thought I'd give ya'll a variation of some angst for the trio but I'd actually end it off so I don't leave you in perpetual pain like I did in Touch of a Woman đ¤Ş
For those curious about what fic in this AU would come after this... you'd enjoy Signed in Crayon, Sealed in Cash đ°
Always eager to hear your thoughts and encouragement it keeps me writing. Can't wait to hear what ya'll think đĽ°
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My other works can be found in My Masterlist. Thanks for reading!
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All Fic Taglist - Interested in my future works? Let me know if you'd like me to add you to my tag list.
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Preview: âPlease,â Annie whispered, mortified. âDonâtâdonât make me do thatââ
âAinât making you do nothing.â His thumb brushed her bottom lip. âJust correcting a misunderstanding. Making sure everybody knows you taken care of.â
Word Count: 2.8k
Warning â ď¸: They're not a trio. But everyone eats eventually đ¤Ş
A/N This is for @othermotherchild and all the other folks who requested this. Thank you for the inspo and trusting me to bring your visions to life. Enjoy.
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Annie was sitting at her vanity, pinning up her hair, when she heard Smoke come home.
His footsteps on the stairs were steady, purposeful. She watched in the mirror as he appeared in the doorway, already dressed for the galaâblack suit, crisp white shirt, looking every bit the man who commanded respect wherever he went.
âYou bout ready, angel?â he asked, moving into the room.
âAlmost. Just finishing my hair.â
He came to stand behind her, and she watched him in the mirror as he pulled a small velvet box from his jacket pocket.
âGot something for you,â he said, setting it on the vanity in front of her. His eyes watched her expression, a smile tugging at his lips.
Annieâs breath caught, a smile spreading across her face.Â
The box was deep blue, clearly expensive. She opened it with careful fingers.
A necklace. Diamonds arranged in an intricate pattern, delicate but striking. The kind of thing that cost more money than most people saw in months.
âElijah,â she breathed. âThis isâitâs beautiful.âÂ
âItâs gonâ match your dress.â He picked it up, the gems catching the light. âHere. I got it.â
Annie lifted her chin as he draped the necklace around her throat, his fingers brushing her skin as he worked the clasp.
âThere,â he murmured, his hands resting on her shoulders as they both looked at her reflection. âPerfect.â
It was perfect. The stones gleamed against her dark skin, elegant and striking.
âThank you,â she said softly.
âMm.â His hands slid down her arms slowly, then back up. âSpeaking of⌠I heard somethinâ real interesting today.â
Annieâs stomach tightened at his tone. âOh?â
âMhm.â His fingers traced along her collarbones, just above the necklace. âRan into Marcus Webb. He mentioned you was by his shop last week.â
Her heart started pounding. âIâyes, I stopped byââ
âSaid you was bartering with him.â Smokeâs voice was casual, but his hands had stilled on her shoulders.Â
âSomething about your herbal remedies in exchange for⌠what was it? Some fabric? Some special buttons?â
Annie swallowed hard. âIt was justâI wanted some lace. For a project. And Marcus said his wifeâs been having trouble sleeping, so I offered to make her some of my chamomile blend in exchangââ
âNow whyâŚâ His hands slid back up to her neck, fingers playing along the edge of the necklace. âWhy would you need to do that?â
âIt was justââ
âWhen you have a husband,â he continued, his voice dropping lower, his breath warm against her ear, âwho can pay for it?â
âI didnât thinkââ
âWhen your husband has given you money for it?â He continued. His fingers traced along her throat, not tight, just⌠there.Â
Present.Â
âI give you an allowance every month, donât I?â
âYesââ
âYou got access to all the accounts,â His lips brushed the shell of her ear, and despite everything, Annie felt heat pool in her stomach.
âSo explain to me, angel. Why you bartering like some woman whose man canât provide for her?â
âIt wasnât about the moneyââ Her voice came out breathier than she intended.
âNo?â His hands slid down, fingers trailing along the neckline of her dress, the tops of her breasts. âThen what was it about?â
Annieâs eyes fluttered closed. âI just⌠I liked the idea of trading. Of using something I made to get something I wanted.â
âSomething you made.â His hands continued their slow explorationâalong her sides, her waist, back up. âLike those folks are worthy of the things you make with your own two hands.â
âElijahââ
âYou see how that looks?â His mouth was at her neck now, lips brushing her skin between words. âMy woman. Trading her goods like she ainât got a man taking care of her. Like she gotta hustle for fabric and buttons.â
âThatâs notââ She gasped as his teeth grazed her pulse point. âThatâs not how it wasââ
âHow was it then?â His hands splayed across her stomach, pulling her back against him. âExplain it to me, sugar.â
âI just wantedââ Her breath hitched as one of his hands slid higher, thumb brushing just below her breast. âI wanted to make something. To trade something I createdââ
âMm.â The sound was almost a growl against her throat. âAnd how you think that makes me look? When people see my wife trading herbs for notions? What they gonâ think about the kind of man I am?â
âNobody thinksââ
âEverybody thinks, baby. You know that.â His hand cupped her breast through the fabric of her dress, and she bit back a moan.Â
âEverybody watching. Everybody talking. And now theyâll be talking about how Elijah Mooreâs woman out there bartering.â
âIâm sorryââ
âAre you?â He turned her around to face him, and the look in his eyes made her thighs clench. âAre you really?â
âYesââ
âThen tomorrow,â he said, his voice firm despite the heat in his gaze, âwe goinâ to Marcus Webbâs shop. Together.â
Annieâs eyes widened. âElijahââ
âYou gonâ cancel whatever deal you got with him. And Iâm gonâ pay for whatever it is you wanted.âÂ
His hand came up to cup her face. âIn front of everybody. So they can see that you donât need to trade nothinâ. Because your husband provides.â
âPlease,â Annie whispered, mortified. âDonâtâdonât make me do thatââ
âAinât making you do nothing.â His thumb brushed her bottom lip. âJust correcting a misunderstanding. Making sure everybody knows you taken care of.â
âThatâs gonâ to be so embarrassingââ
âGood.â He leaned in, kissed her slowly, deeply, until she was breathless. âMaybe the embarrassment will help you remember next time. Will help you think before you go making deals behind my back.â
âI wasnâtâit wasnât behind your backââ
âYou ainât tell me about it, did you?â
She couldnât argue with that.
âTomorrow,â he repeated, pulling back. âTen oâclock. We goinâ together. Wear something nice.â
âElijahââ
âThatâs the end of it, Annie.â But his voice was softer now, and he kissed her forehead. âNow finish getting ready. We got a gala to get to.â
He walked out, and Annie sat there, staring at her reflection.
At the expensive necklace around her throat.
At the desire in her body from his touch.
At the trapped look in her own eyes.
~The Next Day ~
Annie wore a dove gray dress with white gloves, hair pinned up neat, looking every inch the respectable wife of a successful man.
She felt sick the entire drive to Marcus Webbâs shop.
âSmile, angel,â Smoke murmured as they walked up to the door. âYou look like you headinâ to a funeral.â
The bell chimed as they entered, and Marcus looked up from behind the counter, his expression shifting when he saw who it was.
âMr. Moore,â he said, straightening immediately. âMrs. Moore. Good morning.â
âMorning, Marcus.â Smokeâs hand was firm on Annieâs lower back. âWe here about that arrangement my wife made with you.â
Marcusâs eyes flicked to Annie, then back to Smoke. âOh. Yes, sir. The chamomile blend for some lace andââ
âThereâs been a change of plans,â Smoke cut in smoothly. âMy wife wonât be trading her remedies. Instead, Iâll be purchasing whatever she needs. Cash.â
âOh.â Marcus cleared his throat. âOf course, sir. Thatâsâthatâs no problem at all.â
âGood.â Smoke looked at Annie. âShow him what you wanted, baby.â
Annie wanted to die. Two other women were in the shop, pretending to browse but clearly listening to every word. She recognized one of themâJudith Hayes, known for spreading gossip faster than wildfire.
âThe ivory lace,â Annie said quietly. âAnd the pearl buttons.â
âExcellent choices,â Marcus said, moving to get them.Â
âYour wife has wonderful taste, Mr. Moore.â
âI know she does.â Smokeâs hand stayed on Annieâs back, possessive and warm. âThatâs why I make sure she has access to the best. Donât I, angel?â
âYes,â Annie whispered.
Marcus wrapped the items carefully while Smoke pulled out his billfoldâthick with cash, more than necessary, making a point.
âHow much?â
âOh, itâsâlet me seeââ Marcus calculated quickly. âTwelve dollars total.â
Smoke pulled out a twenty, set it on the counter. âKeep the change.â
âSir, thatâs too muchââ
âFor the inconvenience,â Smoke said smoothly. âAnd to make sure we all understandâmy wife donât need to trade for nothing. Anything she wants, I provide.â
âYes, sir. Itâs very clear.â
âGood.â Smoke picked up the wrapped package, handed it to Annie. âAnything else you need while weâre here, baby?â
Annie shook her head, neck hot.
âThen letâs go.â He nodded to Marcus. âGood doing business with you.â
As they left, Annie could feel Judithâs eyes on her back. Could practically hear the story being formedâhow Elijah Moore had come in to pay for his wifeâs purchases, how heâd made it clear she was taken care of, how heâd shown everyone who was in charge.
In the car, Smokeâs hand found hers.
âSee?â he said quietly. âThat wasnât so bad.â
Annie stared out the window, the package in her lap feeling heavier than it should.
âYou understand now?â he continued. âWhy I needed to do that?â
âYes,â she whispered.
âGood girl.â He squeezed her hand. âNext time you want something, you buy it. Because your husband makes sure you got the money for it. You understand?â
âI understand.â
He lifted her hand to his lips, kissed her knuckles. âThatâs my girl.â
And Annie sat there, the expensive necklace from last night still around her throat, and wondered why being taken care of felt so much like being owned.
By the time they got home, Smokeâs mood had shiftedâsatisfied, pleased. He pulled her into the kitchen, pressed her against the counter, kissed her until she was breathless.
âYou looked so pretty in that shop,â he murmured against her mouth. âStanding there in that dress, wearing my necklace. Everybody knowing you mine.â
And despite everythingâdespite the embarrassment, despite the control, despite the way her independence seemed to slip further away every dayâAnnieâs body responded to him.
Because that was the most confusing part.
She hated what he did.
But she loved him when he did it.
â-
Annieâs fingers twisted in her lap uselessly. As they always did when Smoke fed her.
âWhatâd you get into today, doll?â
âSpent some time working on my cinnamon rolls.â
His mouth ticked up.
âYou likinâ that good cinnamon I got you then?â
She smiled and hit him on his chest.
âItâs real nice. Smellsâdifferent than the normal one.â
âMhm. Iâll have to keep picking it up for you then.â As if cinnamon from across the seas was plenty. Like flour or sugar.
âAnother expensive thing youâll keep spoiling me with.â She said with disapproval.Â
âYou deserve it. You worth every penny and more.â He had that look in his eyes. The one that scared Annie a bit. That deep devotion.
Then he held the fork to her lips once more.
Annie had long given up fighting Smokeâs obsessive tendencies. He was always⌠intense. She knew that. But the longer they stayed together, the worse it got.Â
Yet still she tried.Â
âWas thinking⌠of goinâ to the beach with the girls this weekend.â
She watched him grip the fork tighter.
âNo.â
âElijah you ââ
âI said no.â
âYou didnât even let me finish.â She deadpanned.Â
âDonât need to. I look like the type of man that lets his woman run around in public half naked?â
âSmoke, itâs just a bathing suitââ
âExactly.â His voice was calm. Too calm. âAnd every man on that beach gonâ be looking at you in it.â
âThey not gonnaââ
âAnnie.â He set the fork down, turned to face her fully.Â
âYou think Iâm stupid? You know how men think. You know what they see when they look at you.â
Her stomach twisted. âSo Iâm just supposed to stay here? Never go anywhere?â
âYou can go plenty of places. Just not half-dressed in front of strangers.â
âPearl and them are goingââ
âPearl and them ainât my concern. You are.â
âThis ainât fair.â
âLife ainât fair, angel.â He picked up the fork again, held it to her lips. âEat.â
She turned her head away. âIâm not hungry anymore.â Crossing her arms.Â
His hand caught her chinânot rough, but firm. Turned her face back to him.
âDonât be childish,â he said quietly. âYou need to eat.â
âI said Iâm notââ
âAnd I said eat.â His thumb stroked her jaw, gentle despite the steel in his voice. âI ainât gonâ ask again.â
Annieâs eyes filled with tears, but she opened her mouth.
He fed her the bite, watching her chew, his expression softening slightly.
âThere you are,â he murmured. âSee? That ainât so hard.â
The humiliation burned in her chest.Â
Later that night, Annie tried again.
âWhat if we compromised?â she said as they got ready for bed. âWhat if I wore something more⌠modest? A swimming dress instead ofââ
Smoke didnât even look up from unbuttoning his shirt. âWe already talked about this.â
âNo, you talked. I ainât get toââ
âBecause there ainât nothing more to discuss.â He turned to her now, and something in his expression made her step back.Â
âYou think Iâm beinâ unreasonable? You think Iâm too controlling?â
âYes.â She hissed.Â
âYou rather be with a man that donât give a damn?â
âI ainât say thatââ
âYou ainât have to.â He moved closer, and Annieâs back hit the vanity. âBut let me explain something to you, angel. Every day, I make sure you safe, make sure you provided for, make sure nobody even thinks about disrespecting you.â
His hand came up to cup her face, thumb brushing her cheek.
âAnd you wanna go parade around in front of strangers? In a bathing suit? Where I canât protect you? Where any man can look at you, think about you, want you?â
âSmoke, itâs not like thatââ
âItâs exactly like that.â His voice was soft now, almost tender. âAnd the fact that you donât see it? Thatâs exactly why I gotta be strict with you. Because you too sweet, too trusting. You donât understand how men are. How the world is...â
âI understandââ
âNo, baby, you donât.â He leaned in, pressed a kiss to her forehead. âBut thatâs alright. Thatâs what Iâm here for. To understand for both of us. To keep you safe even when you donât realize you need keeping safe.â
Annieâs throat was tight, eyes shinning with tears. âI just wanted one day. One day with my friends.â
âAnd I gave you an alternative.â His hands moved to her shoulders, rubbing gently. âI already told you. Why they canât come here? I got you a creek on the property. Itâs private. Quiet. And itâs safe.â
âSmoke, it ainât the same!â
âItâs gonâ have to be the same.â His voice hardened. âYou ainât goinâ to no public beach ass naked.â
âYou canât justââ
âI can and I am.â He pulled back, started finishing unbuttoning his shirt. âDiscussionâs over. You wanna invite your friends here for a swim day, thatâs fine. But you ainât goinâ out there half-dressed where I canât see you.â
âSo Iâm a prisoner now?â
He turned sharply, and the look on his face made her flinch.
âA prisoner?â His voice was dangerously quiet. âA prisoner. In a house I built for you? Wearing clothes I bought you? Eating food I provide? Thatâs what you think this is?â
âI didnât meanââ
âNo, you said it. So letâs talk about it.â He moved closer, and Annie pressed back against the vanity. âA prisoner donât got her own house. Donât got her own bank account with money in it every month. Donât got a man who worships the ground she walks on and would kill for her without thinking twice.â
âSmoke, pleaseââ
âA prisoner donât got choices, Annie. But you got choices. You can invite your friends here, swim in private, be safe. Or you can pout about not getting your way like a child.â
Tears spilled over. âStop it. Please.âÂ
His expression shifted immediately, softening. âDonât cry.â
âThen stop making me cry!â She snapped annoyed at herself for showing weakness.Â
âThen stop workinâ my nerves!â His voice rose, and she sobbed harder. He ran a hand over his face, exhaled hard.
âIon like making you cry, angel. You know that.â
âThen why do you keep doing it?â She whispered.Â
âWhy you keep pushinâ?âHe cupped her face in both hands, made her look at him. âYou keep trying to do things that ainât safe, Then I try to protect you, you act like Iâm the villain.â
âYou are smothering me,â she whispered.
Something flickered across his faceâhurt, maybe, or anger. Then it was gone, replaced by that calm, controlled expression.
âIâm goinâ to bed, Annie.â
âSmokeââ
âIâm goinâ to bed.â He stepped back, turned away. âIâll sleeping in my study tonight. Wouldnât want to⌠smother.â
He walked out, and Annie was left standing there, crying in their bedroom, feeling like sheâd done something wrong even though she wasnât sure what.
Chapter 2 >>> Coming Soon.
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A/N This is part 1 of 3 chapters. You know me, working and posting everything but what I'm supposed to be posting. I do want to say, I promise, I will write every submission, nudge or recommendation ya'll send my way. It may take me a little time, but I'll defintely do them. I don't take ya'll for granted. Thank you for your patience with me <3
If you want to know how this story will go check out the original post HERE.
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All Fic Taglist - Interested in my future works? Let me know if you'd like me to add you to my tag list. (Also lmk if you want me to remove you. No hard feelings I promise.)
Chapter 4: Ours to Keep (Smoke Moore x Annie x Stack Moore)
Preview: "So we got some guidin' to do." Smoke nodded slowly. "Mhm." It wasn't a long conversation. Didn't need to be.
They both understood what needed to happen.
Word Count: 8k
Warning â ď¸: They're a Trio
<<<<Chapter 3
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"Girl, come in before the neighbours start talking," Pearline called from her doorway, waving Annie inside with a flour-dusted hand.
Annie climbed the steps to Pearline's small houseâneat, colourful, with flower boxes in the windows that Pearline tended religiously. The smell of something sweet baking drifted out into the afternoon air.
"What you making?" Annie asked, stepping inside.
"Tea cakes," Pearline said, leading her toward the kitchen. "Mama's recipe. Figured we could use something sweet while we catch up."
The kitchen was warm, the oven radiating heat. A pot of tea sat steeping on the counter, and Pearline's small table was already set with two cups, two plates, cloth napkins folded neat.
"Sit," Pearline ordered, pulling the tea cakes from the oven. "And tell me everything."
Annie settled into a chair, smiling despite herself. "Everything about what?"
Pearline shot her a look. "Don't play witâ me girl. I seen you with them boys. Both of them. At the damn same time."
Annie's choked on the tea. "It's notâwe notâ"
"Mm-hmm." Pearline set the tea cakes on a cooling rack, then poured them both tea. "Start from the beginning. And don't leave nothing out."
So Annie told her.
About the conversation in their living room. The boundaries they'd set. The way they looked at her. The way being with them felt like coming home and falling off a cliff at the same time.
"So you seeing both of them," she said finally. "For real, for real."
"Yeah girl," Annie said quietly. "Is that⌠too much?"
"Too much?" Pearline laughed. "Girl, you know I'm the last person to judge anybody's love life."
Annie smiled, relieved. Then quieter: "How's Daniel?"
Pearline's whole face softened at the name.
"He's good," she said, breaking a tea cake in half. "Real good, actually."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Pearline took a sip of tea, then set the cup down carefully. "We been talking."
"About?"
"Moving," Pearline said quietly. "Up north. New York, maybe. Chicago."
Annie's eyes widened. "Up north? Pearl, that's far as â"
"I know," Pearline cut in. "But it'd be easier there. He could just⌠be. Without all this."
She gestured vaguely, and Annie understood immediately.
"Every day," Pearline said, voice tight. "Goes to work at the ironworks with all them white men. Laughs at they jokes. Keeps his mouth shut when they say things that make his skin crawl. Comes home exhausted from pretendinâ."
Annie reached across the table, squeezed her hand.
"The money," she said finally. "White men at the ironworks make three times what coloured men make doing the same work. Sometimes more."
She looked up, met Annie's eyes.
"It's killing him, yeah. But the money's real, girl. It's what lets us even dream about moving outta here. Building a real life somewhere else. You think we could afford New York on what he'd make if folks knew he was coloured?"
Annie shook her head slowly.
"So he goes every day," Pearline continued. "Pretends. Smiles. Takes their money. And saves every penny so one day we can leave and he can stop."
"That's a lot to carry," Annie said quietly.
"It is," Pearline agreed. "Some days I think it ain't worth it. That we should just say to hell with the money, to hell with passing, be together honest even if we broke."
"But?"
"But I seen what being broke does to people," Pearline whispered. "Seen how it traps you. Keeps you stuck. And Danielâhe don't want that for us. Don't want us scraping by, barely surviving. He wants us to have a real chance."
She picked at her tea cake.
"So he keeps going. Keeps passing. Keeps saving. Even though it's hard."
"How long he been doing it?"
"His whole life, basically," Pearline said.
"His mama was real light. His daddy too, though his daddy had some Indian in him. Daniel came out looking like he could be some Italian. So his mama told him early: 'You got a choice your cousins don't. Use it.'"
She picked at her tea cake.
"So he did. Got work he wouldn't have gotten otherwise. Makes money he couldn't make if folks knew. But it's killing him, Annie. Living a lie every day."
"Just you," Pearline said. "And we keeping it that way. Because if the white folks at his job found out he was coloured? They'd run him out of town. Maybe worse."
"And if coloured folks found out he's passing?"
"They'd call him a traitor," Pearline finished. "Say he turned his back on his people. So we stuck. Can't be seen together nowhere âround here."
"That's why y'all talking about moving."
"Yeah." Pearline's voice was soft now. "Up north, in the big cities, he could stop passing. Could just be a light-skinned coloured man with a dark-skinned coloured woman. Nobody'd look twice."
"But that's far from now," Annie said gently.
"Far from now," Pearline agreed. "We ain't ready yet. Still figuring out what we are. If this is real or just⌠I don't know. Right now we just enjoying our moments. Taking it day by day."
She looked up, met Annie's eyes.
"But it's hard, Annie. Real hard. Meeting two counties over so nobody recognizes him. Him pretending to be something he ain't all day, then coming to me and finally breathing. It ain't sustainable."
"You love him?" Annie asked quietly.
"Yeah," Pearline said without hesitation. "I do. And he loves me. But I don't know if love's enough when you can't even walk down the street together."
Annie squeezed her hand tighter.
"At least you got time to figure it out," she said. "Least y'all ain't in immediate danger."
"Not immediate," Pearline agreed. "But it's there. Always there. One person recognizing him when he's with me. One slip. One person from his job seeing us together. That's all it'd take."
She pulled her hand back, wrapped both hands around her teacup.
"So yeah," she said with a tired smile. "You with two men at once ain't even the craziest thing happening in this kitchen."
Annie laughedâsoft and understanding.
"Guess we both got ourselves into something complicated," she said.
"Complicated somethings," Pearline agreed. "But good somethings. Right?"
"Right," Annie said softly. "At least I hope so."
"Them twins treating you good?" Pearline asked, steering the conversation back.
"Yeah," Annie said. "Real good. They're⌠careful with me. Respectful. Keep asking what I need, what I'm comfortable with."
"That's how it should be," Pearline said firmly. "Don't let them run over you, make you do anythinâ you donât wanna.âÂ
âYou know me better than that.â
âI do, but itâs two of them, one of you. Just be careful.â
"I know itâs scandalousâŚ"
"Itâs more exciting if it's scandalous, ainât it?" Pearline said with a grin while wiggling in her eyebrows.
âGirl you so nasty!, We ainât gone there yet.â Annie groaned hands covering her face.Â
âI know, but when yaâll do? Imma need them details hunny.â She said sitting back.
âNow tell me about these rules y'all set. Because I need to know how two men are sharing one woman without killing each other."
Annie laughed, feeling lighter.
They spent the next hour talkingâabout the twins, about Daniel, about navigating love when the world made it complicated.
About taking it day by day.
About being brave enough to try.
And when Annie finally left, walking home in the late afternoon sun, she felt steadier.
Less alone.
Because Pearline understood what it meant to risk something for someone.
To choose love even when it was hard.
The walk home was quiet - just her footsteps on the dirt road and the sound of birds settling in for evening. Annieâs mind drifted as she walked, thinking about what Pearline had said.
Love thatâs worth having is usually love you gotta fight for.
Made her think about her own mama. About the kind of love sheâd had.
Or hadnât had.
Her mama - rest her soul - was a good woman. Kind, sweet, pretty. But Annie couldnât understand why sheâd ended up with her daddy.
Her father wasnât a bad man necessarily. Worked a decent job in the mines. Provided for them the best he could. But he was just... there. Annie wouldnât say she knew much about him as a person. He was only a figure head. âYes Sir.â âNo Sir.â and that was that. When she was bold enough to ask her mother why she chose him she would always say:Â
âHe ainât perfect Annie, I know that. But I made this choice long ago, now I gotta live with it.â
Their marriage was loveless and tired. He always took jabs at her mother, snide remarks about her hair, her stature, her competency. But he ainât raise his hand on her. And in their time, there was something to be said about that.Â
Annie thought about Stackâs hands on her waist the day before. Gentle. Reverent. The way heâd looked at her like she was something precious.
âYou so beautiful,â heâd whispered. Not because he wanted something. Just because he meant it.
Thatâs what hands were supposed to do. Hold. Cherish. Not tear down.
Her mother was a Christian. Raised Annie Christian too. The church was in her. On her. It was her culture. But Annie wasnât blind to the politics and antics of church folk. Itâs what kept her mother married to her father. Itâs what kept her unfulfilled so long. And a part of her, deep down, thought it was a part of the reason her mother was dead too.Â
âAt least he ainât out there gamblinâ and chasinâ women Annie.â
The only valid reason for a divorce per her Bible.Â
Turns out, he was indeed â out there âchasinâ women. One woman specifically. But her mother found that out late in life and that likely made it worse. The life she couldâve lived, couldâve had, had she known.Â
She understood her mama. Kind of. It wasnât bad enough to leave. But it sure as hell wasnât good. Annie had always believed that love wasnât something that was meant to be endured. It was meant to be enjoyed.Â
She tried not to think about the end too much. It was messy.Â
Her mama dying the way she didâheartbroken, stressed, realizing too late what her husband really was. The other woman. The other child. The years of lies.
And then her daddy moving that woman and her child into their house. The house Annie grew up in. Making Annie live there with them like some kind of ghost. A reminder of what heâd done. What heâd destroyed.
Pearlineâs mama had been the one to save her. Saw how thin Annie had gotten, how quiet. How she moved through that house like she was apologizing for existing.
âYou come stay with us, baby,â Pearlineâs mama had said. âAinât no child should live like that.â
And Annie had. For years. Until she was old enough to stand on her own two feet.
Her mama had left her a little house. Modest. But it shouldâve been her own.
Instead, her daddy made her buy it. Made her pay for her own motherâs house like she was some stranger off the street. Fifteen dollars a month for four years. Four years of scraping and saving and working herself to the bone. Four years of her daddy showing up with his hand out, cold as winter, taking her money without so much as a âthank youâ or âIâm sorry for what I did to your mama.â
But sheâd done it.
Paid every last cent. Got that deed with her name on it. Moved into that little house and made it hers.
It was why Annie worked so hard. Saved her coins. Because sheâd learned early that you couldnât rely on anyone else. Not fathers who betrayed you. Not promises that turned out to be lies. Not love that was supposed to be forever but disappeared the moment something shinier came along.
You could only rely on yourself. On what you earned with your own two hands.
And that houseâsmall and modest and hersâwas proof.
Proof sheâd survived.
Proof sheâd made something of herself despite everything.
Proof that she didnât need nobody.
But when the twins went and put money on her books.
Not in her hand directlyâthey likely knew her too well for that. Knew sheâd refuse, pride all wounded and back straight.
But theyâd gone around town. Left money in her name. Paid up her accounts. Told them all the same thing: âWhatever Annie needs, she gets.â
She didnât know whether to be grateful or furious.
Now? She settled on something in between.
Because the thing wasâit would help.
She hated that it would, but it did.
For the first time in years, she wouldnât be counting every penny. Wouldnât have to choose between fixing the porch step or buying a new dress. Wouldnât be laying awake at night doing sums in her head, trying to figure out how to make it all stretch.
The money sheâd been using for groceries and fabric and getting her hair doneâshe could put that toward the house now. Fix the leak in the roof sheâd been ignoring. Get that back window replaced. Maybe even paint the shutters like sheâd been wanting to.
Little things. But things that made the house feel more like hers. Less like something sheâd barely scraped together and more like a home she was building.
And the twins hadnât asked for nothing in return. Hadnât held it over her. Hadnât made her feel small for needing help.
They just⌠did it.
Like it was the most natural thing in the world to take care of her.
She turned onto her street, saw her little house waiting for her.
White clapboard. Small porch with the third step that squeaked. Window boxes sheâd planted herself.
Mamaâs house.
Her house.
But maybeâŚ
Maybe letting someone help didnât mean she was weak.
Maybe accepting care didnât erase everything sheâd earned.
The twins made her think about that.
Her mama had been trapped by a man who took and took and gave nothing back. Who tore her down. Who made her small.
But the twins?
Stack made her feel cherished. Seen. Like every smile she gave him was a gift he didnât take for granted.
Smoke made her feel protected. Secure. Like heâd burn the world down before he let anything hurt her.
They seemed to give without asking. Provided without making her feel like she owed them her soul.
This was different. They were different.
She climbed her porch steps, key in hand, and paused at the door.
Tonight sheâd be with them. Both of them. Out in public where everyone could see.
She was scared.
But she was also⌠excited.
Because maybe, just maybe, this was what love was supposed to feel like.
Not endured.
Enjoyed.
She unlocked the door and stepped inside to get ready.
â-
Annie changed outfits three times.
The first dressâtoo plain. Made her look like she was going to church, not dinner.
The secondâtoo bold. Cut lower than she usually wore, made her feel like she was trying too hard.
The thirdâa deep plum that hit just right, cinched at the waist, made her skin glow. Simple but striking.
She stared at herself in the mirror, twisting to see the back.
This is fine. This is good.
But her hands were shaking as she pinned her hair.
It wasnât the dress. Wasnât even really the dinner.
It was what came with it.
People. Eyes. Whispers.
All of Clarksdale watching her walk into Hankâs with both twins and trying to figure out what the hell that meant.
Annie took a breath. Then another.
You not hiding. You not ashamed.
You chose them. They chose you.
Now act like it.
A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.
She grabbed her shawl, checked herself one more time, and opened it.
Both of them stood there.
Smoke in a pressed shirt, vest buttoned neat, hat in hand. Clean-shaven, composed, every inch the gentleman.
Stack beside him in dark trousers and a crisp white shirt rolled at the sleeves, suspenders sharp against his chest, grin already forming when he saw her.
âDamn,â Stack breathed.
Smokeâs eyes tracked her from head to toeâslow, deliberate, appreciative.
âYou look beautiful,â he said quietly.
Annie beamed. âThank you. Yâall clean up nice yourselves.â
Stack offered his arm. âShall we?â
She took it.
Smoke fell into step on her other side.
Stack held the car door open, hat in hand and Smoke held her hand as she settled into the car.Â
And together, they headed toward Hankâs.
The restaurant sat on the corner of Main and Oakwoodâbrick building, warm light spilling from the windows, the sound of conversation and laughter drifting out into the evening air.
Annie had been here a dozen times before.
But never like this.
Never with both of them.
Her steps slowed as they approached.
Smoke noticed immediately. âYou alright?â
âYes,â she said. âJust⌠nervous.â Lips between her teeth, the uncertainty clear.
âWe ainât gotta do this right now, sugar,â he said. âWe can go somewhere else. Somewhere quieter.â
âNo.â Annie straightened her spine. âI want to. I just need a second.â
Stack squeezed her hand where it rested on his arm. âTake your time, mama.â
She breathed. Once. Twice.
Then nodded.
âOkay. Iâm ready.â
They moved toward the door.
Stack reached it firstâpulled it open, held it wide.
Smokeâs hand found the small of Annieâs back as she stepped through.
And just like that, they were inside.
The restaurant wasnât packed, but it was full enough. Maybe fifteen, twenty people scattered across tables. Families. Couples. Groups of friends.
Conversation hummedâforks scraping plates, glasses clinking, someone laughing loud near the back.
Then Annie walked in.
Flanked by both Moore twins.
The hum didnât stop exactly.
But it shifted.
Heads turned. Eyes found them. Conversations paused mid-sentence as people registered what they were seeing.
Annie. With both of them. Together.
She felt the stares pressing into her.
She kept her chin up. Kept walking.
Smokeâs hand stayed steady at her back. Stack moved ahead slightly, leading them toward a table near the windowânot hidden, not too exposed. Just right.
He pulled out her chair.
She sat.
Smoke took the seat to her right. Stack to her left.
Bracketing her. Protecting her without making it obvious.
The eyes didnât stop.
Annie could feel them. Every glance. Every whisper behind hands.
A woman two tables over leaned toward her companion, said something low. The companionâs eyebrows shot up, gaze cutting toward Annie.
A man near the bar did a double-take. Nudged his friend. They both stared.
Three women in the cornerâyoung, pretty, dressed niceâwatched with expressions that ranged from curious to outright hostile.
Annieâs hands twisted in her lap beneath the table.
âBreathe,â Smoke murmured beside her.
She did. Shallow. Not quite steady.
Stack reached under the table, found her hand, squeezed once. âYou doinâ just fine.â
The waitress appearedâolder woman, kind eyes, professional smile.
âEvening, gentlemen. Miss Annie.â Her gaze flicked between the three of them, but her expression stayed neutral. âWhat can I get yâall to drink?â
âWater for the lady,â Smoke said. âAnd whatever she wants after that.â
âSweet tea,â Annie said softly.
âTwo whiskeys,â Stack added. âNeat.â
The waitress nodded, writing it down. âIâll be right back with those.â
She left.
The silence at their table felt heavy.
Annie glanced aroundâtried not to make it obviousâbut she could still feel it. The weight of attention. The speculation.
What are they doing?
Is she with both of them?
How does that even work?
âStop,â Smoke said quietly.
She looked at him. âStop what?â
âWorryinâ about them.â His eyes stayed on hers, steady and sure. âThey donât matter.â
âThey staring.â
âLet âem.â
Stack leaned back in his chair, draped one arm over the back of hersâcasual, possessive, unbothered. âWe knew this was gonna happen. Folks talk. Thatâs what they do.â
âI justâŚâ Annie dropped her voice lower. âI feel like Iâm on display.â
âYou are,â Stack said simply. Then, at her look: âBut not in a bad way. You beautiful. You here with us. Course people gonâ look.â
âStackâs right,â Smoke added. âThis town been watchinâ us our whole lives. Now they got somethinâ new to watch. Give emâ time. Theyâll move on.â
Annie wasnât so sure.
But she nodded anyway.
The waitress returned with drinks. Took their orders. Left again.
SlowlyâcarefullyâAnnie started to relax.
Smoke and Stack kept the conversation going. Asking about her day. Telling her about theirs. Stack made a joke that pulled a real laugh out of her, and for a second, she forgot where they were.
Forgot the eyes.
Forgot everything except the two men sitting with her, looking at her like she was the only person in the room.
Then the food came.
And things got⌠noticeable.
Smoke cut her a piece of his steak without askingâslid it onto her plate like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Stack poured her more tea before her glass was even half-empty.
When she reached for the salt, Smoke handed it to her before her fingers made contact.
When she dropped her napkin, Stack had already bent to retrieve it.
They werenât trying to make a scene.
They were just⌠taking care of her.
But to everyone else?
It looked coordinated. Intentional. Like theyâd rehearsed it.
The meal went smoother after the initial stares died down. By the time they finished, Annie felt steadier.
Like maybe this could work.
Like maybe she could get used to this.
Stack pushed his plate back, stretched. âThat was good. Real good.â
Smoke nodded, already reaching for his wallet.
âI need to take a leak,â Stack said, standing. âBe right back.â
He squeezed Annieâs shoulder as he passed, then disappeared toward the back of the restaurant.
Smoke counted out bills, left them on the table with a generous tip.
âIâm gonâ pull the car around,â he said to Annie. âSo you donât have to walk in the dark.â
âI can walkââ
âI know you can.â His eyes held hers. âBut you donât have to.â
He stood, grabbed his hat. âWait here. Stackâll be back in a minute, then yâall come out together.â
âOkay.â
He pressed a brief kiss to the top of her headâquick, casual, like heâd done it a thousand timesâand walked out.
Annie sat alone at the table.
Well. Not alone exactly.
The restaurant was still half-full. People finishing dessert, lingering over coffee. The low hum of conversation filled the space.
She smoothed her dress, tried to look comfortable sitting by herself.
Tried not to feel the weight of eyes still watching.
Just a minute, she told herself. Stackâll be right back.
But thenâ
âAnnie?â
She looked up.
Thomas Fletcher stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, smile easy and familiar.
Thomas.
Sheâd gone on three dates with him two years agoâmaybe four. Enough to know he was nice enough, respectable enough, and boring enough to make her want to chew her own arm off.
Her stomach dropped.
âThomas,â she said carefully. âHi.â
âThought that was you earlier,â he said, stepping closer. âSaw you with them twins. Didnât wanna interrupt.â
Something in the way he said them twins made her spine stiffen slightly.
âWe were just having dinner.â
âI saw.â He glanced at the empty chairs, and his smile didnât quite reach his eyes. âThey leave you already?â
âNo, theyââ She stopped. It wasnât any of his business. âTheyâll be back soon.â
âAh.â Thomas pulled out Stackâs empty chair, sat down without asking. âMind if I keep you company while you wait?â
Yes, she wanted to say. I do mind.
But the words stuck in her throat.
This was Thomas. He wasnât a bad man. Just⌠persistent. Oblivious. The kind of man who didnât understand that âno thanksâ meant âno thanks,â not âtry again later.â
âSure,â she said instead, voice tight.
Thomas settled in, leaned back like he had all the time in the world.
â Outside â
Smoke walked to where heâd parked the carâa block down, tucked along the side street.
He wanted tonight to be special. Wanted Annie to feel taken care of. He thought they did a good job. This was just a glimpse into their future.
He reached the driverâs side, pulled the door openâ Then paused.
From here, he had a clear view through Hankâs front window. The angle was just right. He could see their table.
See Annie. See a man sitting in Stackâs chair. Smokeâs hand tightened on the door handle. He watched. He leaned forward, saying something that made Annie smileâpolite, uncomfortable, but still a smile.
His hand gesturing as he talked, getting closer to her space with every word.
Smokeâs jaw flexed.
Stackâll be back any second, he told himself. Heâll handle it. But he didnât get in the car.
Just stood there. Watching.
â In the Washroom â
Stack dried his hands, checked his reflection. Hair still neat. Shirt still pressed. He looked good. Annie looked better, he thought with a grin.
Tonight had gone well. A few stares, yeah, but nothing they couldnât handle. And Annieâsheâd been nervous at first, but sheâd relaxed.
Laughed. Let them take care of her. Thatâs all he wanted.
He pushed open the washroom door, stepped into the hallwayâ And stopped.
From here, he had a partial view of the dining room. Could see their table.
See Annie.
See a nigga sitting where heâd just been sitting. Stackâs smile died. He started forwardâ Then stopped. Forced himself to slow down.
To watch.
He was talking. Annie was nodding, hands folded in her lap. She looked⌠uncomfortable.
But she wasnât telling him to leave. Stackâs fingers curled into fists at his sides.
She can handle it, he told himself. She donât need you barging in. But his feet wouldnât move.
He just stood there. Watching.
â Back at the table â
âYou look good tonight, Annie,â he said. âReal good. All dressed up.â
âThank you.â
âSpecial occasion?â His tone was light, but there was something underneath it. Something searching.
âJust⌠dinner.â
âJust dinner,â he repeated, nodding slowly. âWith both of them. At the same time.â
Annieâs hands twisted in her lap. âThomasââ
âI ainât judging,â he said, raising his hands. But his smile was tight. âJust trying to understand, thatâs all. Itâs⌠different. You gotta admit that.â
âI donât have to admit anything.â
âFair enough.â He leaned forward, elbows on the table. âBut you and I used to talk, Annie. Remember? We had some good times. That church picnicâyou made those little tea cakes everybody loved.â
âI remember,â she said quietly, not meeting his eyes.
âYou should make those again sometime.â His voice dropped lower, more intimate. âI been thinking about them. Thinking about you, if Iâm honest.â
Annieâs stomach twisted. âThomas, I donât thinkââ
âTwo years ago, you told me you wanted to take things slow,â he continued, voice still friendly but with an edge creeping in. âSaid you wasnât ready for anything serious. And I respected that, Annie. I gave you space. I was patient.â
âI appreciate thatââ
âDo you?â The friendliness cracked slightly. âBecause from where Iâm sitting, it donât seem like you needed space. Seems like you just needed⌠something else.â
Annieâs spine stiffened. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
Thomasâs smile faded. âCome on, Annie. You here with both twins. At the same time. Walking in with them, sitting between them, letting themââ He gestured vaguely. âWhatever that is. So clearly you ready for something. Just wasnât ready for me.â
âThomas, thatâs not fairââ
âAinât it?â His voice was harder now. âI got a decent job. I go to church. Iâm respectable. I wouldâve treated you right, Annie. Wouldâve given you a good life. A proper life.â
âI donâtââ
âBut instead you with them.â He said it like a curse. âMen with reputations. Men everybody know ainâtââ He stopped himself, jaw tight.
Annieâs heart was pounding. âI think you should go.â
âIâm just trying to understand.â But he wasnât moving. âWhat is it about them? What they got that I donât?â
âThomas, pleaseââ
âIs it the danger?â His eyes were hard now, all pretense of friendliness gone. âThat what you like? Men whoââ
âStop,â Annie said, voice shaking.
âIâm honest. Iâm decent. I wouldâve married you, Annie.â His hand moved across the table toward hers. âStill would. You donât have to do this. Whatever this is with them. You got options.â
Annie pulled her hands into her lap, away from him.
âYou got me,â Thomas said, leaning closer. âA good man. A church man. Notââ
âI need you to leave,â Annie said, stronger now.
âAnnieââ
âNow, Thomas.â
She started to stand.
His hand shot out, caught her wrist.
Not gentle. Not friendly.
Possessive.
âWait,â he said, and there was something desperate in his voice now. Angry. âJustâjust hear me outââ
Annie froze, staring at where his fingers circled her wrist.
âLet go,â she said quietly.
âI just need you to understandââ
âLet go, Thomas.â Her voice was stronger now, but her heart was hammering.
âYou making a mistake with themââ His grip tightened. Not enough to hurt. But enough that she couldnât pull away easily. âThey ainât what you think they are, Annie. Men like thatââ
âThomasââ
âYou think they gonâ respect you?â His voice dropped, bitter and ugly. âYou think walking around with both of them ainât gonâ make people talk? You think thatâs the kind of life you want?â
Annie tried to pull back. His fingers tightened.
âYou really think theyâre better than me?â he asked, leaning in closer. âAfter everything Iââ
â outside â
Smoke saw it.
The hand.
The touch.
Annie pulling back.
The man holding on.
He dropped the car door.
Didnât close it.
Just left it open and started walking.
Fast.
â inside â
Stack saw it too.
Saw the man reach across the table.
Saw Annie try to pull away.
Saw him hold on.
âMotherfucker,â he breathed.
And moved.
___
âLet go of me,â Annie said, louder now.
âAnnie, Iâm not trying to hurt youââ
âYou are hurting me.â
Thomas blinked, looked down at his hand like he was surprised to find it there. But he didnât let go.
âI just need you to listenââ
A shadow fell across the table.
Then another.
Thomas looked up.
Smoke stood on one side of the table, face calm but eyes lethal.
Stack appeared on the other, jaw tight, hands flexed at his sides.
Both of them.
At the same time.
Thomasâs hand dropped from Annieâs wrist like heâd been burned.
âEveninâ,â Smoke said quietly.
Too quietly.
Thomas stood fast, chair scraping. âWe was just talkinâââ
âDidnât look like talkinâ,â Stack said.
âI was justâshe and I used toââ
âUsed to,â Smoke repeated. âPast tense.â
Thomas steadied himself. âI wasnât doinâ nothinâ wrongââ
âYou touched her,â Stack said flatly.
âI barelyââ
âSo you sayinâ you did then? Touch her?â Smoke asked low and gravely.Â
The restaurant had gone quiet.
Every eye on them.
Thomas looked aroundâsaw the stares, the judgmentâand his expression hardened.
âThis is ridiculous,â he muttered. âCanât even have a conversationââ
âYou wasnât conversatinâ,â Stack said. âYou was pushinâ.â
âShe ainât tell me to stopââ
âShe did, but she shouldnât have had to,â Smoke said, voice dropping even lower. Dangerous. âYou should know better.â
Thomasâs jaw worked. He looked at Annieâreally lookedâlike he was waiting for her to defend him.
She didnât.
âYou need to leave,â Smoke said.
âYou canât tell meââ
âJust did.â
For a long moment, nobody moved.
Then Thomas exhaled hard, grabbed his coat from the back of the chair.
âYou got a different kind of taste, Annie,â he said.
Stack offered her a hand and she took it, let him pull her close.Â
They walked out togetherâAnnie between them, their presence a shield against the stares that followed them all the way to the door.
Annie didnât look back.
Didnât see the way people were whispering.
Didnât see the mixture of judgment and concern on their faces.
She just held tight to Stackâs hand and kept walking.
â
The car was quiet at first.
Smoke driving. Annie in the middle. Stack on the passenger side.
Nobody spoke.
The only sounds were the engineâs low rumble and the occasional passing car, headlights cutting through the darkness before disappearing again.
Annie stared at her hands in her lap.
The same hands Thomas had grabbed. She could still feel itâthe pressure of his fingers, the way heâd held on even when she tried to pull away. The way his voice had changed from friendly to bitter to something that made her skin crawl.
Her wrist didnât hurt. Not really.
But she kept rubbing it anyway.
Stack noticed.
His hand reached over in the dim light, found hers, covered it gently.
âYou ok?â he asked quietly.
Annie nodded. Didnât trust her voice.
âHe shouldnât have done that,â Smoke said from the driverâs seat. Voice tight. Controlled but barely. âPut his hands on you like that.â
âI know,â Annie whispered.
Her throat felt thick. Eyes stinging.
Donât cry. Donât cry. Not now.
But the tears came anyway.
Quiet at first. Just wetness on her cheeks that she tried to wipe away quickly, hoping they wouldnât notice in the dark.
Stack noticed.
âMama,â he said softly, squeezing her hand.
That made it worse.
The gentleness. The concern. After everythingâafter the stares at the restaurant, after Thomas, after sheâd just sat there like an idiot letting him talk and talk until he grabbed herâ
They were still being gentle.
A sob escaped before she could stop it.
âHey,â Stack said, turning in his seat. âHey, itâs alrightââ
âItâs not,â Annie choked out. âI shouldâveâI shouldâve told him to leave. I shouldâveââ
âYou ainât did nothinâ wrong,â Smoke cut in, eyes still on the road but voice firm.
âI just sat thereââ
âBecause you were trying to be polite,â Stack said. âBecause you kind. That ainât your fault.â
âHe wouldnât have done it if Iâd been clearer, if Iâdââ
âHe did it because heâs a man who donât respect boundaries,â Smoke said flatly. âThat ainât on you.â
Annie shook her head, tears coming faster now.
All night sheâd been so nervous. Worried about the stares, about people judging, about doing something wrong. And then she had done something wrongâlet Thomas sit down, let him talk, let him get too closeâ
âItâs ruined,â she whispered.
âWhat is?â Stack asked.
âTonight. Our firstââ Her voice broke. âIt was supposed to be nice and Iââ
"Annie." Smoke's voice was quiet but commanding.
She turned her head toward him.
"Ain't nothin' ruined," he said, glancing at her briefly before his eyes returned to the road. "You hear me?"
âButââ
âNothinâ,â he repeated. âWe had a great dinner. Man came at you wrong. We handled it. Thatâs what we do.â
âBut everyone was staringââ
âLet âem stare,â Stack said. âWe donât care about them.â
âI do,â Annie said miserably. âI care. They gonâ talk. They gonâ sayââ
âThey was always gonâ talk,â Smoke said. âFrom the moment you walked in with both of us. You knew that.â
She had known that.
But knowing it and living it were two different things.
Stackâs thumb rubbed gentle circles on the back of her hand.
âYou did well tonight,â he said softly. âYou walked in there with your head up. You sat with us. You let everyone see.â
âAnd then I let Thomasââ
âThomas,â Smoke cut in, voice hard now, âainât your concern no more.â
Annieâs stomach twisted.Â
âElijahââ
"I mean it." He glanced at her again, and the look in his eyes made her stop asking.
Something in his tone made her stop asking.
They drove in silence for another moment.
Annie wiped at her face, trying to pull herself together.
Stop crying. Stop being weak. Theyâre gonna think you canât handle this.
But the tears kept coming.
Quiet, exhausted tears that she couldnât seem to stop.
She was so tired.
Tired of being scared. Tired of second-guessing everything. Tired of feeling like she had to be strong all the time because sheâd been doing it alone for so long she ainât know how to be anything else.
The familiar streets of her neighbourhood started appearing.
Her house was coming up soon.
After a while, Smoke pulled up in front of her house.
Put the car in park.
Nobody moved.
Annie stared at the small houseâthe familiar whitewashed wood, the porch with the squeaky third step, the window to her bedroom that suddenly felt impossibly lonely.
Too quiet.
Too empty.
Too far from them.
âAnnie,â Smoke said softly.
She didnât look at him. Just kept staring at her dark house, rouge tears still running silently down her face.
The thought of going inside aloneâof sitting in that empty, quiet space after everything tonightâmade her chest tighten.
âAngel, look at me.â
She turned slowly, eyes red, cheeks still wet.
His expression cracked slightly at the sight of her.
âCome on,â he said gently. âLetâs get you inside.â
Annieâs breath hitched.
She opened her mouth. Closed it.
Looked down at her handsâone still clasped in Stackâs, the other twisted in the fabric of her dress.
âCan IâŚâ she started, then stopped.
Both twins waited.
âCan I what, baby?â Stack prompted gently.
âI know it ainât proper. I know. But can IâŚâ She swallowed hard. âCan I stay with yâall tonight?â
Smokeâs entire body relaxed.
The words came out small. Almost a whisper.
âI donât⌠I donât want to be all alone tonight.â
Smokeâs shoulders relaxed.
Like heâd been holding his breath and could finally exhale.
âYeah,â he said immediately. ââCourse you can.â
âYou donât have to ask twice, mama,â Stack added, squeezing her hand.
Relief flooded through her so fast it almost made her dizzy.
âThank you,â she whispered.
âNothing to thank us for,â Stack said.
Smoke drove past her street without slowing down.
Didnât even hesitate.
Just kept going, heading toward their place instead.
Annie exhaled slowly, something unknotting in her chest.
She wouldnât be alone tonight.
Wouldnât have to sit in her empty house replaying everything, wondering if sheâd ruined it, wondering if they were angry with her.
She could just⌠be with them.
Safe.
âYou sure you ok?â Stack asked after another moment.
Annie nodded. âYeah. Just⌠shook up, I guess.â
âThatâs understandable,â Smoke said.
They drove in silence for a few more blocks.
Annieâs tears had slowed now. She wiped at her face again, embarrassed.
âSorry,â she mumbled. âFor crying.â
â"Don't apologize for that," Smoke said firmly. "You allowed to feel what you feel."
Annie nodded, throat tight again.
They were almost to the twins place when Stack suddenly sat up straighter.
"Shit, we needa turn around."
"What?" Smoke's head turned toward him for a second before his eyes went back to the road.
"She needs her things"
"What things?"
"Women things. Like..." Stack gestured vaguely with his free hand. "Man, I don't know. I just know women need shit that we don't have."
Annie held a hand to her mouth, a smile breaking through despite everything. She placed her other hand on Stack's thigh.
"Iâll be okay" she said softly.Â
First real smile they'd seen in the past hour.Â
âI'll make do. Thank you for thinking of me." She leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek.
His eyebrows shot up.Â
"Always, mama," Stack said, covering her hand with his, the other to touch his cheek.
Smoke glanced over at her, caught that small smile, and something eased in his expression.
The rest of the drive passed quietly.
Not uncomfortable quiet.
Just... quiet.
Annie sat between them, hand still held in Stack's, and tried to breathe.
Tried to believe what they'd said-that she hadn't ruined anything. That it wasn't her fault. That they weren't angry with her.
The tears had mostly stopped by the time they pulled up to the twins' place.
Smoke cut the engine.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Stack squeezed her hand one more time before letting go.
âCome on,â he said softly. âLetâs get you inside.â
Smoke came around to her side, opened the door, offered his hand.
Annie took it.
Let him help her out of the car, steady her when her legs felt shaky.
âWe got you,â Stack said from behind her.
And standing thereâbetween them, their presence solid and warm on either sideâAnnie finally believed it.
They had her.
She didnât have to do this alone.
Not tonight.
Maybe not ever again.
___
When they got inside, Annie stood in the middle of the living room, arms wrapped around herself, feeling small and raw and exposed.
âYou need anything?â Stack asked. âWater? Something to eat?â
She shook her head, then hesitated. âCan I⌠can I take a bath?â
The twins exchanged a quick glance.
âYeah, âcourse,â Smoke said. âWe donât use the tub muchâjust got basic soap in thereâbut I can get it running for you.â
âThatâs fine,â Annie said quietly. âI just need⌠I just need a minute.â
âIâll get it started,â Smoke said, already heading down the hall.
Stack lingered, hands in his pockets, watching her with worried eyes.
âYou okay?â he asked softly.
Annieâs laugh came out wet and broken.
He stepped closer, hesitated, then pulled her into his arms.
She went willingly, burying her face in his chest, breathing him in.
âWe got you,â he murmured into her hair. âWe ainât goinâ nowhere.â
She nodded against him, not trusting her voice.
A few minutes later, Smoke appeared in the doorway. âItâs ready.â
Annie pulled back from Stack, wiping at her face. âThank you.â
She started down the hall, then paused.
Both twins were still standing there, looking at her with identical expressions of concern and restraint.
âIâll be quick,â she said.
âTake your time,â Smoke replied.
She disappeared into the bathroom, and the door clicked shut behind her.
For a long moment, neither twin moved.
Then Stack let out a slow breath. âShe in there naked.â
Smokeâs jaw ticked. âIâm aware.â
âIn our house.â
âStackââ
âI know, I know.â Stack dragged a hand down his face. âWe goinâ slow. We takinâ our time. We beinâ respectful.â
âBut she in there naked,â Smoke finished, voice strained.
They stood in tense silence.
âWhose shirt she wearinâ after?â Stack asked suddenly.
Smoke blinked. âWhat?â
âShe canât put that dress back on. So whose shirt she wearinâ?â
Another beat of silence.
âMine,â both of them said at once.
They looked at each other.
âI gave her my shirt last time,â Stack pointed out.
âExactly,â Smoke countered. âSo itâs my turn.â
âThat ainât howââ
âGentlemen.â
They both turned.
Annie stood in the bathroom doorway, wrapped in a towel, edges damp and curling around her temples, eyes still red but calmer now.
âI can hear you,â she said, voice hoarse but with the faintest hint of amusement.
Both twins had the decency to look sheepish.
âSorry,â Stack muttered.
Smoke cleared his throat. âIâll get you something to wear.â
He disappeared into his room, came back with a clean shirt.
Handed it to her without meeting her eyes.
âThank you,â she said softly.
She went back into the bathroom, closed the door.
The twins retreated to the living room like theyâd been scolded.
Neither spoke.
Then Stack moved to the couch, dropped down heavily, elbows on his knees.
Smoke stayed standing, hands in his pockets, staring at nothing.
"She too soft," Stack said finally.
Smoke's jaw ticked. "Yeah."
"That's why we like her though," Stack continued, quieter now. "She kind. She sweet. She ainât got a mean bone in her body."
"I know."
Stack looked up at his brother. "But she can't be like that out there. Not when niggas think they can justâ"
He stopped. Shook his head.
"I know," Smoke said again.
They were quiet for a moment.
Water running in the bathroom. Distant sounds of the neighbourhood settling in for the night.
"She don't know how to protect herself yet," Stack said. "Don't know how to shut that shit down."
"No," Smoke agreed. "She don't."
"So we got some guidin' to do."
Smoke nodded slowly. "Mhm."
It wasn't a long conversation.
Didn't need to be.
They both understood what needed to happen.
Annie was theirs now. That meant teaching her. Protecting her. Showing her how to exist in their world without losing what made her her.
But that was a conversation for another day.
Tonight, she just needed them close.
Stack nodded, stayed on the couch.
Thinking about the way that man had sat down like he had grabbed her like he had a right to.
She too soft, he thought again.
But that was alright.
They'd teach her.
They had time.
â-
Thirty minutes passed.
Maybe longer.
Finally, the bathroom door opened.
Annie emergedâclean, languid, wearing Smokeâs shirt that hung to her mid-thigh. Her edges were still damp, her eyes low and sleepy.
She looked exhausted.
Wrung out.
But steady.Â
Both twins stood as she entered the living room.
âFeel better?â Smoke asked.
âA little,â she admitted. âThank you.â
ââCourse.â
Silence stretched between them.
Annieâs hands twisted in the hem of the shirt.
âI want ââ She stopped. Swallowed. Tried again. âI want both of yaâll tonight.â
The twins went completely still.
Stackâs eyes widened slightly.
Smokeâs throat worked.
âI know Iâm asking for a lot,â she continued quickly, voice barely above a whisper, completely oblivious. âI know we said weâre taking things slow. But I donâtâ want to choose between you. I just needââ
âAnnie,â Smokeâs voice came out rough. Strained.
She looked up at him, confused by his tone.
âYou sure?â he asked carefully. âYou sure thatâs what you want? Tonight?â
âIâyes?â She blinked, uncertain why he looked so tense. âIs that okay?â
Stack cleared his throat. âBaby, we just wanna make sure you⌠ready for that.â
Annieâs brow furrowed. âReady for what?â
The twins exchanged a loaded glance.
âFor⌠both of us,â Stack said slowly. âAt the same time.â
Annie stared at them.
Then her eyes went wide.
âOh! Ohâno, I ainât meanââÂ
âI just meant⌠can we all sleep together? Like, actually sleep? In the same bed?â
The tension drained out of both twins so fast it was almost comical.
Smoke let out a slow breath. âJesus, woman.â
âYou canât just say things like that,â Stack muttered, running a hand over his face.
âIâm sorry!â Annieâs hands clutched at the bottom of the shirt âI didnâtâI wasnât trying toââ
âItâs fine,â Smoke said, but his voice was still a little rough. âYeah. Yeah, we can all sleep together.â
âJust sleep,â Stack confirmed, more for himself than for her.
âJust sleep,â Annie agreed.
Smoke shook his head, something like a smile tugging at his mouth despite everything.
âCome on,â he said, gentler now. âLetâs get you to bed.â
He led her down the hall to his roomâthe bigger of the two bedrooms, bed wide enough for three.
Stack followed close behind, turning off lights as they went.
Smoke's room was biggerâ though it had never held more than one before tonight.
Annie stood beside the bed, uncertain.
"Which sideâ" she started.
"Middle," both twins said at once.
She blinked. "Oh. Okay."
Stack pulled back the covers while Smoke dimmed the lamp on the dresser.
Annie climbed in first, the mattress dipping under her weight. The sheets were cool and clean, smelling faintly of soap and something distinctly Smokeâtobacco and cedar and something else she couldn't name.
Stack slid in on her right, settling on his back with one arm behind his head.
Smoke took the left side, closer to the edge, lying on his side facing her.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Just three people in a bed, breathing in the dark.
Then Annie shiftedâturned onto her side toward Smokeâand tucked herself against his chest.
His arm came around her automatically, hand settling on her waist.
Behind her, Stack moved closer, his chest pressing against her back, his arm draping over both her and Smoke.
Annie let out a shaky exhale.
"Better?" Smoke murmured.
"Yeah," she whispered. "Better."
Her breathing started to even out almost immediatelyâexhaustion finally catching up with her.
The twins waited.
Listened.
After about ten minutes, her body went slack against Smoke's chest. Her breath deepened, slowed.
Asleep.
The twins waited.
Listened.
Stack's arm tightened around both of them, and over Annie's sleeping form, he met his brother's eyes in the darkness.
No words needed.
They'd handled worse than Thomas Fletcher.
And they'd get to him too.
But later.
Tonight, they had this.
Their woman, safe between them.
Right where she belonged.
Smoke's hand continued its slow path up and down Annie's back until his own eyes grew heavy.
Stack was the last to fall asleep, listening to Annie's soft breathing, Smoke's steady heartbeat.
Three people in a bed.
Three people becoming something neither of them had planned for but both of them wanted.
This was just their beginning.
___
A/N I have been working on this forever. Chopping and changing before I realized I'd just have to post ts lmao. So here is chapter 4. We learn more about Annie's lore and family life. I feel like I have an issue where I can't just say some shit happened. I have to build everything out and its so annoying in a way because it takes me forever to make a post đ So thank ya'll for the patience.
I have so many different parts of this fic written, but since we're burning nice and slowwwwww, I'll slot them in eventually. What was once supposed to be 4 chapters and an epilogue... has spirled into something so much more. đ
Thank ya'll for rockin' with me. Always happy to hear your thoughts/predictions/opinions. Pls give me a crumb of dopamine during this depressive episode lol. Love yall! đ Canadian winter is a crime against humanity. In unrelated news it was a damn snowstorm today smh. Okay love you. Bye
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This work of art is part of "The Moore Kind" universe. Where Smoke, Annie, and Stack exist as a Trio. If you'd like to learn more about them, check out My Masterlist đ
___
All Fic Taglist - Interested in my future works? Let me know if you'd like me to add you to my tag list. (Also lmk if you want me to remove you. No hard feelings I promise.)
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Her House, Her Rules (Smoke Moore x Annie x Stack Moore)
Warning â ď¸: They're a trio.
Preview: Annie was the center of their world, their matriarch, sun, moon, stars and the fucking sky where they were concerned.
Word Count: 1.94k
A/N: Ya'll gonna have me writing a fic a day and I kinda love it. Keep the requests coming đ¤ đđžââď¸
____
âNow you know she ainât like you doinâ all that in the house Stack.â Smoke warned his brother as he saw him light up his cigar.
The boys were laid up on different couches opposite each other in just their boxers. It was a sticky southern summer day and they were taking no chances in the hot ass sun. They were both men of the night now.Â
Stack had convinced his brother to join him in his world of eternity shortly after he turned. And his brother didnât decline. Living in a world without his brother was unfathomable.Â
When they told Annie, she struggled for a while - she didnât want that life for herself but still wanted them in her life. Annie chose to love them anyway. She married them anyway. And thatâs why she was the love of their life.
Annie was the center of their world, their matriarch, sun, moon, stars and the fucking sky where they were concerned. So when she expressed her dislike of them smoking in the house, it wasnât a question of if the boys would smoke in the house. The boys, wouldnât smoke in the house.Â
Smoke's warning caused his younger brother to roll his eyes as he took a drag.Â
âWell, this my house too.â Stack replied back with an impish grin.Â
âIon want no trouble. You not bouta fuck up my chance of getting some tonight cuz you wanna be smart Stack. Put it out.â The older commanded the younger.Â
He shook his head.
âItâs just this one time and she ainât here so she ainât gonâ know. Unless you tell her.â Stack stared pointedly at his twin.
âYou gon tell her?â He asked with a raised brow before sucking on his cigar once more. The flavour filled his dead lungs and swirled about for a bit before he exhaled. That was one thing he liked about being undead. The mechanics of his body worked differently. Thereâd be no choking over here.Â
âWe took vows man why, you always wanna rock the boat?â Smoke asked highly annoyed at his brothers antics.Â
âYeah yeah, I ainât cheatinâ. Just smokinâ.â he took a hit of his cigar obnoxiously once more.
âIâm here bored as hell man. Can I live? You want some?â he asked his older brother cheekily.
He received a glare in response. Smoke still â smoked â obviously but just out on the porch, adhering to the rules his lady had for the house. The boys may have been undead, but her potted plants were not.
âI married her too Smoke. So if we gotta problem Iâll take it up with her myself.âÂ
And that was the thing with Stack, he was all bark and no bite because when his lady pulled up to the house earlier than expected he started singing a very different off key tune.
Annie's melodic laugh carried from the front porch into the house as her footsteps sounded on the wood, getting closer and closer to the door.Â
âIâll see yaâll later! Next time bring a towel!â She yelled back at the girls whose car squealed off down the dirt road.Â
âShit.â Stack exclaimed frantically trying to stow away the evidence of his crime.Â
She wasnât supposed to be back yet. She said sheâd be hanging out with the girls at the lake and coming home in the evening to make dinner. Stack's eyes found the clock, it was not time for dinner.Â
The speed in which he ashed the cigar wouldâve been comical if it hadnât left a burn mark on the couch.Â
âFuck!â he spat. He flapped his arms about looking for a solution.Â
The front screen door creaked open. She was here.Â
Smoke glowered at him before rising to greet their wife. âHey baby, you had fun playinâ in the water?â Heâd angled himself strategically to block her view of Stacks soiled couch. He rubbed his hands on her arms, still a little damp from her dip.Â
The move gave his twin enough time to throw a blanket over the mark and kick the cigar box full of evidence under the couch.Â
âYeah. Mary forgot her towel, so we had to cut it short.âÂ
She stretched up and kissed her husband long and deep before orienting herself around him to find her other one. Once her eyes landed on Stack she grinned.Â
She tapped her lips expectantly and Stack closed the distance between them and ducked down before giving her a quick kiss.
She frowned at the small display of affection before she began unpacking her bag and recounting the events of her day. She covered everything from the moment she left the house until the second she landed back on the porch.
The boys typically liked hearing about her days, especially because they didnât really experience them anymore. They barely saw the people they grew up with now, unless it was in the dark of night. A juke, a party, a hang⌠then theyâd show, because thatâs the only time they could.
âI missed yâall.â Annie said before collapsing back into Smokeâs lap on the couch.Â
âWe missed you too princess.â Smoke responded stroking her arm once more. He was always touching. Â
âWhatâd you guys get into while I was gone?â She asked, beaming across the room at Stack. It was their turn to share with her the events of their day.Â
Stack spoke up quickly.Â
âWe was thinking we change up the sitting room. These couches bout old as hell, I bet Mr. Chow got the connect on somethinâ nice and new for us. What you think?â
She looked around her and she scrunched up her nose. âWhatâs wrong with what we got right now?â
âNothinâ!â Smoke replied alarmed and eyes wide. Â
Annie furrowed her brow. Maybe they could use a bit of a refresh across the house stylistically. She shared her thoughts contemplatively.Â
âIon know bout somethinâ new. But maybe we could ask the girls at the shop for some new fabric, maybe change that. Sheâll be good as new. No need to spend all that extra money.â She gestured to their fully functioning, not that old couch.Â
âWe got more than enough money.â Smoke reassured her as he always did, rubbing her back. He was the bookkeeper of their little family. He handled the money stuff, he made sure they were always good. Budgets, projections, the whole 9.Â
Smoke didnât wanna get involved in this play at all, but he saw the potential and it could work. Theyâd replace the couch, Annie would be none the wiser and he'd still get to draw moans out of her that evening. It was a win-win. He chimed in.Â
âNah mama, we wanna make sure itâs nice and new. Chow got some styles from up North. Lemme talk to him.â Smoke bent down and placed a kiss on her temple once more.
âLet us handle it baby.â Stack said from across the room.Â
She hesitated before nodding.Â
âOk.. Iâll leave yâall to it.â She said as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep in her lovers arms.
Smoke had stepped out that evening. Had to go check in on some business things and he didnât want to be in the house right now, he was a bad liar and the more he could avoid Annie the better.Â
Stack stayed home and kept Annie company but unfortunately the couch incident was steady on his mind. He didnât like lying to Annie; it didn't sit right in his stomach. That evening she kept smiling at him, feeding him and loving him and it was all too much for him. Whyâd she have to be so good?Â
She had resigned herself to her room to wind down before bed. Stack couldnât do it anymore. He had to confess.Â
He marched himself over to her room and knocked on her door. The boys made sure the second bedroom was just for Annie. There she could make herself up, or just have a space away from them whenever she needed it. There was only 1 Annie and two of them, they never wanted her to be overwhelmed.
âCome in.â her voice travelled across the room and through the door.Â
âHi baby.â She beckoned him inside. She was laying on her bed, reading a book. He stepped inside the room and shut the door quietly. He stayed at the door though.
One thing Stack couldnât deal with was anxiety. Annie helped him with that, and alot of his other emotional regulatory issues. He bit his lip. âI can come over there?âÂ
Annie looked at him funny. âOf course.â
He walked over and kneeled beside the bed.Â
âI have something to tell you. Promise me you ainât gon be mad.â
Her lip quipped up. âThat depends on what you bouta tell me Elias.â
He squeezed his eyes shut. Her hand shot out to stroke his face lovingly. She had the sweetest spot for him. Elijah was daddy, but Elias? Elias was baby.Â
âYou wanna say that again, in a language I can understand?â
He took a deep breath and tried again. Eyes still squeezed shut.Â
âI was smoking in the house and fucked up the couch and Iâm sorry.â
The room was silent for a moment before Annie broke it with her response.
âI know.â
âNow I know you mad ââ he stopped. His face scrunched up and his shoulders dropped the stress leaving his body like a waterfall.
âYou know?â
She nodded her head. A small smile tugging on her lips.Â
âSmoke told you?â
She shook her head. âNo.â
âThen how you know?â He asked bewildered.
âI checked it out when I woke up from my nap on the couch. I lifted up the blanket you threw over the burn when y'all thought you were being slick conspiring in the kitchen. You never use a blanket.â
And it was true. Stack ran hot. Sweaty all the damn time. The fluffy fabric being draped all over his couch was uncharacteristic of him. Â
âYou not mad?â
âI ainât happy that you lied to me, but it was creative and I wanted to see how long you could keep it up.â she wore an amused smile on her face.Â
He huffed before admitting. âI been feeling bad all night.â
âWho's fault is that?â She asked raising a brow.Â
âYou right.â
He paused before her spoke up again. âSo you not mad?â He asked to clarify once more.Â
âNo. Iâm not mad Elias. Plus, y'all wanted to replace my couch with no fuss. I ainât complaining⌠just know Iâll want new carpets too.â She responded, looking pleased with herself.Â
âGood luck explaining that one to your brother with his budgets. Time for you to go Elias. Shut the door on your way out.â she said before turning her back to her husband.
He rose from her bedside and smiled before heading towards the door.Â
âNight Annie.â
âElias?â she called out.
He stopped, hand hovering over the doorknob. He was so close.Â
âNo more smoking in the house. Next time I wonât be as forgiving.âÂ
âYes maâam.â He responded before closing the door quietly and assessing himself.Â
He was relieved for a second because he was no longer lying to his wife and she wasn't mad. His chest puffed up. See? Wasnât nothing to worry about.Â
That was before he realized the predicament he was in and he deflated quite shortly after.
Pour Me Another Lie (Smoke Moore x Annie x Stack Moore)
Preview: âYouâre doing good baby. Keep that up, Smokeâs gonna be nice to you. Gonna be real nice and give you what you want.â Stack encouraged with a kiss to her tear stained cheek.
A/N Ya'll loved the boys and Annie together as a trio in Her House, Her Rules. So heres more!đ¤ đđžââď¸
Part 2
____
âI ainât know Annieâs working Hankâs bar now.âÂ
Cornbread was in the barn unloading the last batch of beers the boys had ordered and trying to make conversation while Filly stacked bottles behind him.
Smoke sat at the bar, flipping through a ledger. Stack leaned over the back of the couch, scribbling on a clipboard, mid-count.
Upon Cornbread's comment, there was a shift.
Smokeâs back straightened. His hand froze mid-air, glass halfway to his lips. Stackâs head turned slow like he hadnât heard right, then let out a dry, humorless laugh.
âWhat you mean?â Stack asked.
Cornbread scratched his head. âI saw her. Earlier today. When I was dropping off at Hankâs. She was behind the bar. Serving.â
He said it plain, like it wasnât a live grenade.
The boys shared a look before Stack started.Â
âThat wasnât Annie. Because Annie dont work, do she Smoke?â Stack shot at his brother over his shoulder.Â
âAnnie donât work.â The older responded flatly.
âThatâs right. Cuz Annie ain't got no bills. Annie got any bills Smoke?â He asked his brother.Â
âAnnie ainât got no damn bills.â The older confirmed.Â
A picture was forming now. Smoke didnât like it. Hadnât thought much of how sheâd been slipping out in the afternoons latelyâjust as they were settling into sleep. Kissing them both goodbye like it was nothing.
Back by eleven. Smelling like sweat and sugar. Heâd chalked it up to her wandering ways. She got restless. But she didnât work.
Smoke stood from his stool, slow and measured. He couldnât believe what he was hearing. But Cornbread wasnât the lying type. The man was many things, but not a liar.Â
He stalked closer as Stack kept going.
âAnnie donât pay bills. So she donât need to be working for no money. Definitely not for no damn Hank, and especially not serving no drinks.â Stack concluded.Â
Cornbread rubbed the back of his neck. He wasnât trying to stir anything up. He just figured they knew. He let out a breath and tried to explain.
Heâd been hauling crates with Fillyâusual route. Made the stop at Hankâs around 5. Sun had teeth that day, hot on the back of his neck.Â
Inside, the bar was its usual dark, sticky self. And there she was.Â
Annie, behind the bar like sheâd always been there. Dress stuck to her back, brow damp. Laughing at something Hank said.
She didnât see him.
He wanted to wave. Say something. But Filly was already honking the horn, yelling about the next stop.
So he let her be.
âI ainât lyinâ. You can ask Filly too,â Cornbread said, nodding toward the young man hauling in the last crate.
âYeah, that was Miss Annie at Hanks, canât miss that laugh of hers.â The boy shared a smile, not knowing what he was walking into.
Silence fell thick as a quilt.
Smokeâs jaw flexed. Stack clapped a hand on Cornbreadâs shoulder.
âPreciate you for stopping by.â Smoke said, a tight smile on his lips and a prompt for the man to hit the road.Â
âYouâre a good man, Cornbread.â Stack said as he started him towards the exit.
Cornbread hesitated at the barn door. âShe ainât in trouble is she?â
âTrouble? Nah, she not in no trouble.â Stack replied, smiling with his golds peaking out.Â
But for some reason, Cornbread had a feeling she had walked straight into it.Â
___
Earlier that dayâŚ
The house was still, heavy with the kind of silence that only came when the boys were down for the count.
Smoke and Stack had come home just before dawnâfed and full, stretched out like kings in the wide bed they shared with her. By the time the sun crept through the curtains, they were out cold, deep in the kind of slumber that wouldnât break for hours.
Annie sat on the edge of the bathtub, taking her twists down and fluffing through her curls with slow, idle movements. The house was too quiet. She looked at the clockâjust after noon. Sheâd already done her chores. Her hands itched for something else.
The days were long now. And with the boys sleeping till sundown and business slow this week, Annie had too much time to think. Sheâd stopped by Hankâs the day before to drop off a tonic for his gout, and heâd looked at her with those tired eyes and said, âWish I had someone with hands like yours behind the bar. Just till Margie gets back.â
She hadnât answered then. But now, hours into silence, she found herself slipping on a cotton dress and pinning her hair back. Nothing fancyâjust a shift dress and low heels. Something easy to move in.
âIâll be back before they even wake up,â she murmured to herself, grabbing her purse. âJust a couple hours. Help Hank out. Stretch my legs.â
She left a note on the kitchen counter, though she doubted theyâd see it. They never looked for notesâthey looked for her. The words she wrote werenât a lie, not exactly. But she left out the part about where she was goingâand why she wouldnât be back before sundown.
__
Annie was in trouble.
Stackâs eyes bugged out. âYou seeing this?â
Smoke didnât answer. He didnât have to.
Smoke was seeing it. He saw Annieâthere, behind a bar, pouring a drink for a patron. Wearing that soft cotton dress she liked, sleeves rolled up, hair pinned. She looked pretty. Capable. Like she belonged.
And that made it worse.
Smoke made it clear early on that he never wanted her to have to answer to another man for money. He would make sure that she would never have to. He had a big thing about taking care of his family. Taking care of his woman.
He loved that Annie made her own money and pursued he own passions. Smoke nurtured that entrepreneurial spirit in her, helped her with her business. And she made a fair amount from it. Heâd pay for whatever herb she needed that grew across the country to be delivered. Just so that Annie could hone in on her craft and work on new treatments for her customers.
But where she stood right now? This wasnât her business. This wasnât her passion. It was the antithesis of everything Stack wanted for his woman. A threat to what he believed made him a man.
She spotted them just a second too lateâtwo shadows seated at the back of the room, dark and still. Her heart sank the moment she met Smokeâs eyes. Stackâs face was easier to readâsurprised, maybe even a little amusedâbut Smoke? He didnât move. Didnât blink. Just stared.
The boys had picked a table in the back of the venue, tucked away from view but still with enough of a vantage to see the action.
She dropped the towel and ditched the apron with haste and headed over the the boys table.
âIâll meet yâall at the house,â Smoke said, voice flat.
âSmoke, I can explain,â Annie called out, taking a hesitant step toward himâbut he was already turning away, flagging down the stock boy.
âWhereâs your boss at?â Smoke asked. âI got somethinâ for him.â
Stack shook his head as he looked at Annie with a little pity. He personally wasnât too fussed with Annie working. As long as the patrons kept their hands to themselves and Annie stayed strapped he thought sheâd be fine.
But Smoke? That was a different story. Stack knew how his brother felt about their woman being in someone elseâs domain.
The way Smoke acted, youâd think she was on the damn pole.Â
Stack stood and stretched like heâd just finished a meal. âLetâs go, sweet bits,â he said, gently placing a hand on the small of her back to steer her toward the exit.
She resisted for a second, glancing backâhoping, maybe, that Smoke would stop her. Say something. But he was already disappearing behind the swinging doors.
Stack almost felt bad for Annie. Almost.
He wasnât really madânot the way Smoke was. He didnât mind her working, not in theory. But working for another man in a place like this? And doing it behind their backs? That was where things got sticky.
She mightâve been able to get away with it if she opted for being a seamstress. But a damn barmaid? Stack wouldnât be able to save her from her brother's wrath even if he wanted to.Â
The duo left the bar as instructed and headed home.
They were in the bed awaiting her fate as Stack pulled Annie back against his chest, his arms snaking around her to cup her breasts with slow, greedy hands.Â
First he just held them, they were heavy and he loved that.Â
âI could play with these â with you â all day.â
He felt her relax into him. This would take her mind off of things until Smoke got back. Quell any anxiety.
Slowly he began to rub her nipples between his fingers expertly. He was in his element and she was in heaven. He paid attention to her breasts and all she did was lean back and whine. Like a princess. At times her hands overlapped his as she joined him in teasing her tits.Â
âYou like that mama?" A kiss to her cheek
"I know you like it when we give these girls attention. You're greedy for it.âÂ
She could feel his dick pressing against her back and her mouth watered. She slid her hands behind her back to grasp at the manâs covered cock. She listened as Stacks voice hitched.Â
âOh baby youâre so sweet, tryna take care of me.â Stack looked at his watch, did they have time? Could they have a little fun before his brother came back?Â
âWe gotta be fast.â he said but before they could get into it they heard the front door slam.
They paused their play for a moment when they saw Smoke walk into their bedroom and shut the door.Â
He didnât regard them. He slowly began to remove his cuff links and roll up his sleeves.Â
As he was undoing his belt he looked up and locked eyes with Annie. Perhaps the only time heâd done so that night.Â
 âYou wanted to be seen, didnât you?â Smoke asked. His voice was quiet, not cruel. That made it worse.
Smoke walked straight toward her â slow, deliberate, without saying a word. He knelt between her legs, ignoring Stack's hold on her, and slid his hands up her thighs to pull her hips forward, closer to the edge of the bed. His grip was firm. Possessive. It was a silent claim, and it told her everything words hadnât yet said.
He shoved her dress up to her hips. She knew this was her moment. To plead her case â to appease Smokes anger.Â
âSmoke â I can explain ââ
âShhhhâ. Stack whispered in his wifeâs ear.Â
In response she struggled in his arms. Stack held her close to his body with a smile.Â
âHow about you show Smoke your pussy baby? I think he wants to see how greedy she is.â
She shook her head and tried to close her knees and avoid Smoke's hot gaze.Â
Stacks hands were fast. Dropping from her tits down to her thick thighs quickly.Â
âNo, no. Keep em open.â His hands forced her knees back apart, for her sex to be exposed to his brother's view.Â
âBe good.â Stack murmured â
âShe hasnât been,â Smoke said coldly, without looking up. âThatâs the problem.â
When Smoke placed his mouth on her sex she threw her head back, eyes raised to the sky. She could feel him in every part of her body. His tongue expertly licked her from her clit to her opening snaking through her folds to sip every drop of her essence.
She didnât know if she wanted to cry or thank him.
âLook at Smoke Annie. He tryna teach you something. Heâs showing you what happens when you donât listen.â
Smoke worked with experience and precision. He knew his woman and all her parts. Knew how she liked to be touched. It wasnât long before she was on the brink of an orgasm, and then he just⌠stopped.
She gasped, and there he was, on his knees looking her straight in her face.
Her lip trembled.
A tear slipped of her eye and began a trail down her face.
Stack licked it.
Annie began sobbing. She could tell what kind of night it was gonna be.Â
âSmoke only tryna help you baby. Heâs doing it cuz he loves you.â he crooned into her ear before kissing her cheek.Â
Almost satisfied with her ruin Smoke went right back to work licking into her sensually.Â
Stack matched that and began to play with her nipples once more. He pulled them, obsessed with how she responded when he did. The pain bit and then subsided and her shallow breaths encouraged him to keep going.Â
She gasped. âPlease.âÂ
âSmokeâs still mad about that bar,â Stack whispered. âBut heâll forgive you. He always does.â
Throughout this entire ordeal. Stack was his brother's mouthpiece. The older hadnât said many words. Annie didnât know where his head was at.Â
And it continued like that. Smoke sipping from her pussy and bringing her to the brink of her pleasure before stopping and starting back up again. He made sure to look her in the eyes when he stopped right before she orgasmed.Â
He wanted to see her disappointment. Her frustration. For her to feel like how he was feeling right now.Â
He kept her desperate and wanton with his ministrations on purpose. It was pleasure and punishment all at once. Â
âStack please. Please ââ She begged with little reservation. âI need it.â âPlease let me cum.â She wailed as he her brought her right to the edge before pulling away and sitting back. Watching the confusion ripple across her face once more.
âYou begged them like that too?â Smoke asked, still between her thighs, voice low. âYou make those sounds for them?â His grip on her thighs tightened.Â
It dawned on her once again that heâd left her hanging. He turned his attention right back in to suck on her clit. He rubbed his tongue against it, lapping at it, savoring the noises that came from her lips as a result of his wicked actions.Â
But then she moaned his name. Not Stackâs. His.
It broke something in him.
Smoke growled low in his throat, and for a second the precision was gone â replaced by hunger, raw and unchecked. His fingers sank deeper, rougher. His mouth moved like he needed her to cry out again, louder this time, for him.
âSay it again,â he rasped against her sex. âSay my name like you mean it.â
And she did. Over and over again.Â
Still he persisted. At a certain point in the evening Annie stopped begging and started repenting.Â
âIâm sorry daddy. Iâm so sorry.â Now they were getting somewhere.Â
Smoke paused. He didnât look at her. But she felt the way his hands softened, just slightly, against her skin.
âGood,â he finally said before diving back into her sex, fingers curling inside her.Â
âSmoke I â Iâm sorry.â She let out desperately. Her head flung back. She wanted him to hear her. She meant it.Â
âYouâre doing good baby. Keep that up, Smokeâs gonna be nice to you. Gonna be real nice and give you what you want.â Stack encouraged with a kiss to her tear stained cheek.
Hearing her apologies and desperate breathless whines worked to subdue Smokeâs anger. He could feel the anger subsiding â sliding back into himself. The teasing wasnât in vain. She was seeing the error of her ways.Â
When he had had his fill of her moans and apologies, he decided to give in.Â
âAnnie.â The first word heâd said in a while. Her eyes were unfocused.Â
âLook at me.â And she did. He held her gaze as he stroked her insides with his two fingers and thumbed at her clit.Â
She could feel it coming, coupled with the way Stack tweaked her tits and the way pleasure was building in her chest. She was almost scared of how her orgasm would take her. Scared of the feeling that was to come. Still she held his gaze.
She mouthed the words âPleaseâ but no sound came out. The one final suck of her clit into his mouth did it and sent her over tumbling over the edge.Â
She bucked and Stack was startled for a moment before he held her body to himself as her orgasm crashed over her. She was a fucking wonder.Â
âLook at you. Look at you.â Smoke praised softly as she wailed â the sound came from deep within her. It was primal. Through it all, Smoke stayed on his knees, between her legs to lap at the essence that freely flowed from her.Â
In a way, at that moment all of them could sit back a little easier. The tension in the room melted alongside her orgasm. As if they experienced the same oxytocin she did. They waited for her to catch her breath.
Slowly â Smoke stood up.Â
He gripped her chin softly and looked down at her. She was wrecked. Her lips were parted and her chest moved up and down. His thumb skimmed her kiss swollen bottom lip.Â
âOpen your mouth.â He spoke softly.Â
Annie opened her mouth almost immediately. Like she was craving what would come next. Like she was hungry for it â for him.
Her eyes locked with his as he spat into her mouth.Â
âKeep it open.â He spoke once more. Â
And she did.Â
Smoke wanted to see. Wanted a visual on how they â how he â owned her. And how she wanted to be owned too. It was reciprocal. The two held each others gaze, almost communicating to one another through micro expressions.Â
You hurt me. Youâre mine and nobody elseâs.Â
I love you. Iâm yours. I'm sorry.Â
âSwallow.â She closed her mouth and her eyes and swallowed what heâd given her.Â
Stack scrunched his nose up. âYaâll nasty as hell.â
âSmoke?â She breathed. He crouched down and pushed the tendrils of curls out of her face.Â
Her hand reached out to him seeking connection and he was quick to hold it. To rub his thumb over her knuckles and comfort her. To place a chaste kiss on her hand.Â
He looked up at her frame. She wasnât in no state to have any kind of conversation right now.Â
âYes baby?â he loved her so fucking much it was scary. His Annie.Â
â I never ââ she started before her cut her off.Â
âTomorrow mama. You're okay. You rest. Weâll talk all about it tomorrow.â
He reached up and placed a kiss on her head. It was shiny with perspiration but Smoke didnât care. She was his.Â
She sat back into Stacks chest getting comfortable as Smoke went in and wiped her down with a rag.Â
They settled into a soft and comfortable silence. There was a reverence in the air.Â
Stack stroked her hair and placed light kisses behind her ear.Â
Smoke began whispering sweet proclamations of love into her skin. Almost in worship.
âYou did so well.â
A kiss on her ankle.Â
âYouâre perfect.â
A kiss on her knee.Â
âWe love you so much.â
A kiss on the inside of her thigh.Â
Annie basked in their love, letting the feeling wash over her â filling her heart with warm affection.Â
Smokeâs position at her feet pouring praise into her skin felt symbolic. Despite what transpired that night, it was her who owned them.
He rose to see her face.
âYouâre ours, Annie,â Smoke said softly, brushing her curls back. âDonât make us doubt that again.â
Whatever happened today? It was water under the bridge. Theyâd talk about it tomorrow. Sheâd worked hard tonight â paid her penance.Â
She was loved, safe, and protected under the watchful and attentive eyes of her partners.
The hurt had been seen. The apology had been heard. The slate, quietly, was clean.
And with that knowing, she let slumber take her over.
____
Interested in my future works? Let me know if you'd like me to add you to my tag list.
My other works can be found in My Masterlist.
Thanks for reading!
PART 2
___
Taglist
@chaneajoyyy @pyraomen @browngirldominion @sarcastic-sunshines
Chapter 3: Ours to Keep (Smoke Moore x Annie x Stack Moore)
Preview: "âThat what you want?â she asked. âTo remember me here?âHe looked up at her, jaw flexing beneath her palms.
âEvery room, Annie. Every corner. Wanna see you everywhere.â
Word Count: 7.6k (gon' head and get you some tea and a chocolate biscuit)
Warning â ď¸: They're a Trio
A/N Enjoy :)
<<< Part 2
____
Annie stood in the hallway, drowning in Stack's shirt, hair wild and eyes still soft from sleep.
Smoke stood closeâso close she could feel the heat radiating off him from when he'd crossed the space between them moments ago.
And Smokeâ
Smoke looked at her like she was the answer to a question he'd been asking his whole life.
His eyes dropped for just a secondâcaught on where the oversized shirt had slipped off one shoulderâthen snapped back up to her face.
His jaw ticked.
"You okay?" he asked, voice low and careful.
She nodded. Then shook her head. Then shrugged, because honestly, she didn't know.
"Come here," he said.
Not a command. An invitation.
Though they were already closeâclose enough that she only needed to sway forward slightly, bare feet quiet on the floorboards.
When she did, Smoke reached outâhesitated for half a secondâthen let his hand settle on her arm. Warm. Steady. Grounding.
"You eat today?" he asked.
Annie blinked. Of all the things she'd expected him to sayâ
"I⌠I had something this morning."
His throat worked. "That ain't what I asked."
"Iâ"
"Since you been here," he clarified, eyes searching her face. "Stack feed you?"
She shook her head.
Something dark flickered across his expression. Not anger at her. At the situation. At himself for not being here.
"Sit,â he said, already moving toward the kitchen.
"Elijah, you don't have toâ"
"Sit. Down."
The firmness in his voice made her knees weak.
She sat.
Smoke moved around the kitchen with practiced efficiencyânot fast, not showy, just steady. He pulled eggs from the icebox, butter from the counter, a bowl from the shelf.
Annie watched him, hands folded in her lap, Stack's shirt still warm around her.
The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable. Just⌠full.
Full of things neither of them knew how to say yet.
He cracked eggs into the bowlâthree, four, fiveâwhisking them with a fork. Dropped a thick pat of butter into the pan. It hissed and spit, filling the kitchen with that rich, golden smell.
"I wasn't expectin' to see you today," he said finally, not looking at her.
"I know."
"I'm glad you came."
Her throat tightened. "You are?"
He glanced over his shoulder, brow raised. "You think I wouldn't be?"
"I just⌠I showed up without asking. Fell asleep in Stack's bed. Made thingsâ"
"Complicated?" he offered, turning back to the stove.
"Yeah."
He poured the eggs into the pan, tilting it slightly to spread them even. "You think we scared of complicated?"
She didn't answer.
"Annie." He looked at her then, spatula in hand, expression serious. "We asked you to do this. You think we ainât know it was gonâ be messy sometimes?"
"I justâŚ" She trailed off, not sure how to finish.
He slid the spatula under the eggs, folding them gently. "You thought we'd get in a fight over you."
It wasn't a question.
"I heard you," she admitted quietly. "Through the door. You and Stack."
Smoke went still for a second. Then continued cooking, slower now.
"What'd you hear?"
"Enough."
He nodded once. Set the pan aside, let the eggs rest.
Then he crossed to where she sat, pulled out the chair beside her, and dropped into it.
Close. Close enough that their knees almost touched.
"I ain't gon' lie to you," he said. "It's hard sometimes. Sharinâ you. Not because we don't want toâbut because both of us want all of you."
Annie's breath caught. She'd never been wanted like that. Didn't know what to do with being wanted like that.
"But that ain't your problem to fix," he continued. "That's ours. Me and Stack? We figure that out. You just gotta let us take careâ you the way we need to."
Tears pricked at her eyes.Â
"You cryin'?" His voice softened, thumb reaching up to catch a tear before it fell.
"I'm justâ" She laughed wetly. "Y'all are a lot."
"Good lot or bad lot?"
"Good," she whispered. "Terrifying. But good."
He smiled thenâsmall, but realâand stood to plate her food.
He sat and set it in front of her. Fluffy eggs, buttered just right, still steaming.
âThank you.âÂ
She reached for the fork.Â
He was faster.
Took it from her hand before she could protest.
"Elijahâ"
"Let me," he said quietly.
And there was something in his voiceâsomething raw and almost pleadingâthat made her stop.
Made her nod.
He scooped up a forkful, brought it to her lips.
"Open."
She did.
The eggs were perfect. Rich and soft and everything she didn't know she needed.
He watched her chew, eyes never leaving her face.
"Good?"
She nodded, swallowing.
He fed her another bite. Then another.
The intimacy of itâof him sitting there, patient and focused, taking care of her in the most basic, essential wayâmade her chest ache.
"Why you doin' this?" she asked softly.
"Doin' what?"
"Feedin' me. Takin' care of me like this."
He paused, fork hovering between them.
"Because I can," he said simply. "Because you mine now. And I take care of what's mine."
Mine.
The word should've scared her.
Should've felt possessive, controlling, too much too soon.
But coming from himâsteady, certain Smoke who'd spent the whole evening just wanting to see herâit didn't feel like chains.
It felt like safety.
She took another bite from his hand, eyes locked on his.
His gaze dippedâjust for a secondâto where Stack's shirt had slipped further down her shoulder. Then back to her face.
"I understand Stack got us into some trouble," Smoke said, voice even but with an edge she hadn't heard before.
Before she could respond the forkful of fluffy eggs was lined up at her lips.Â
She hesitated before she took them, chewing slowly before responding.Â
âYaâll not in trouble.â
âNo?â He asked, cocking his head.Â
She shook her head.Â
âTell me what happened.â
âHe ainât tell you?â
âI wanna hear it from you.â
"I came because of the money," she said between bites.
His expression didn't change.Â
"The money y'all put on my books around town."
âThat was a rogue operation.â He said plainly.Â
Her brow furrowed slightly.Â
"You didn't know?"
"No."
Oh.
Oh.
So Stack had done it alone.
Without telling Smoke.
That explained the tension she'd heard earlier.
"He put money down at the grocer," she explained. "The seamstress. The salon. The gas station. Everywhere I go, people tellin' me my account's already paid for."
His Adam's apple bobbed. "And you didn't like that."
"I feltâŚ" She searched for the word. "Exposed. Like the whole town knew somethin' I didn't. Like I ainât have control over my own life."
He nodded slowly, processing.
âHe put money on my books everywhere,â she finished. âDidnât ask. Didnât warn me. Just⌠did it.â
Smoke fed her another bite before speaking.
âYou felt got.â
She nodded.
âYou ainât like not knowinâ whatâs goinâ on.â
She nodded, taking another bite from his hand.Â
âIâm grown.â
âThat so?â Another tilt of his head.Â
âI can take care of myself.â
No response. Just eggs.Â
âYou ainât got nothinâ to say?â she finally snapped, though her voice was soft.
He blinked once, slow.
Thenâ
âOne of your straps is fallinâ, angel.â
Her breath caught. She glanced down.
Sure enoughâher left shoulder was bare, the slip hanging low. Stackâs shirt had near dropped of her shoulder.Â
Smoke rose from his chair.
Moved to stand behind her.
Large handsâwarm, steadyâslid the wayward strap back into place.
But he didnât stop there.
His fingertips lingered, tracing the curve of her shoulder, the slope of her neck.
"You should be grateful," he murmured, voice dropping low, "the only thing he did was put money on your books."
Annie's breath hitched.
"Smokeâ"
"You not hearin' me."
His hands moved to adjust the back of her slip tooâslow, reverentâthen let his palms rest lightly on her upper arms.
"I had it my way?" His voice was rough now, barely controlled.
"I'd have you draped in the finest furs."
Her lips parted, traitorous, the way they always did when Smoke handled her soft.Â
"Only the best wine touchin' your lips. Cheese from France. Olives from Italy. Dresses cut from silk, jewelry from across the seas."
She shivered, it was a wonder how he made spoiling sound like a threat.Â
"Me and my brother?" His voice dropped even lower. "We gon' do all of it for you."
Her thighs parted without thought, betraying just how deeply his words were working on her.
He noticed â of course he noticed â and his hands continued their path downward, fingertips grazing her hips before settling at the hem of Stack's shirt where it hit her thighs.
âStack shouldâve waited. Shouldâve talked to you first. I told him that.â
His fingers lifted the fabric just an inchâjust enough to feel the heat of her skin.
No more.
The temptation was great, his restraint was greater.Â
Then he pulled back, smoothing the shirt down.
Like it hurt him to stop.
Annie's chest rose and fell, shallow and fast.
There were moments â this being one of them â when Annie wished he was a worse man.Â
She reached for him without thinking. Her fingers curled into his shirtâsmall, unsure, but wanting.
"ElijahâŚ" she whispered.
He shut his eyes.
Just once.
Like the sound of his name on her tongue had punched the air out of him.
When he opened them again, he was hanging by a thread.
She looked at his mouth.
Not boldly.
Not like a challenge.
Like a prayer.
"âŚplease?"
The word was soft. Barely air.
But it detonated something inside him.
She tried again, fingers tightening on his shirt.
Want shining plain as day.
He groanedâlow, torturedâand caught both her wrists gently in one hand.
"Annie."
Her name was a warning and a plea.
"Keep lookin' at me likeâ"
He broke off, chest rising too fast.
Smoke leaned in until his forehead touched hers, breath shaking like he was holding back a storm.
"I ain't turnin' you down," he murmured, thumb brushing her knuckles in something close to worship.
"I ain't rejectin' you."
A beat. His jaw flexed.
"But we said slow."
She made a soft soundâhalf protest, half understanding.
"So right now?" He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. "Right now you gonâ finish your eggs."
Her lips parted, still dazed. Still wanting.
"And then we'll talk," he continued, voice rough but steady. "All three of us. About the money. About what you need from us. About how this gonâ work."
He released her wrists slowly, like letting go cost him something.
"Okay?"
Annie nodded, throat tight.
"Okay," she whispered.
He pressed one kiss to her foreheadâchaste, reverentâthen stepped back.
Picked up the fork.
Fed her one more bite.
And Annieâstill trembling, still wantingâlet him take care of her.
Because for the first time in a long time, she didn't have to do everything alone.
She had them.
And they had her.
-
After she finished eating, Smoke cleared the plate without a word.
Washed it. Dried it. Put it away.
Annie watched him moveâcontrolled, methodical, like he was working through something in his head with every motion.
When he turned back, his eyes found hers.
âYou ainât been in my room yet.â
Her heart skipped.
âNo,â she said softly. âI havenât.â
âYou want to?â
It wasnât a demand. Wasnât even really a question.
It was an offering.
Annie nodded.
Smoke crossed to her, offered his hand.
She took it.
He led her down the hall, past Stackâs doorâstill open, the red silk visible from where they stoodâand stopped at the door opposite.
His room.
He pushed it open, stepped aside to let her enter first.
Annie crossed the threshold slowly, taking it in.
The contrast to Stackâs room was immediate.
Where Stackâs was all warmth and chaosâred silk, furs piled high, clothes draped over chairsâSmokeâs was clean. Controlled. Intentional.
Dark wood furniture, perfectly aligned. A single furâwhite and grey, stretched across the foot of his bed like fresh snow. No clutter. No mess. Just space, carefully curated.
It looked like him.
Felt like him.
âWhat you think?â His voice came from behind her, close but not crowding.
âItâs beautiful,â she said honestly.
She moved deeper into the room, fingers trailing over the edge of his dresser. Everything had a place. Cufflinks in a small dish. A watch laid carefully beside a stack of folded handkerchiefs. Ledgers lined up on the shelf, spines perfectly even.
âYou this organized everywhere?â she asked, glancing back at him.
His mouth twitched. âYou sayinâ Iâm uptight?â
âIâm sayinâ you like things a certain way.â
âAnd Stack donât?â
She smiled. âStack likes things the way they feel good in the moment.â
Smoke huffed a quiet laugh.Â
Annie turned back to the room, eyes landing on the bed.
âSit,â he said softly.
She hesitated, then lowered herself onto the edge of his bed.
The mattress was firmer than Stackâs. The sheets crisp and cool beneath her thighs.
Smoke stayed standing for a beat, just watching her.
Then he moved.
Crossed the room, dropped to one knee in front of her.
Annieâs breath caught.
He reached for her footâbare, dustyâand lifted it gently into his lap.
âHowâd you get here?â he asked, voice quiet.
âWalked.â
He went very still.
âFrom where?â
âFrom town. Most of the way.â
He grunted. Clearly displeased.Â
âNext time you call for us. We come get you.â
âYou donât have a phone.â
âThen you send word. You donât walk alone.â
His hands were warm, careful, as he examined her foot. Checking the heel, the arch, between her toesâlooking for cuts, blisters, anything that might hurt her.
âYou got a blister forminâ here,â he murmured, thumb brushing the back of her heel.
âItâs fineââ
His eyes lifted to hers. âYou shouldnât have to walk anywhere alone. Not when you got two men whoâd come get you.â
âWhy you keep doinâ this?â she asked again softly.
âDoinâ what?â
âTakinâ care of me like Iâm somethinâ fragile.â
He looked up at her then, eyes dark and serious.
âBecause you are.â
âIâm notââ
âNot fragile like youâll break,â he clarified. âFragile like you precious. Like you matter.â
Her throat tightened.
He set her foot down gently, picked up the other one.
âI canât forget you in here now,â he murmured, almost to himself.
Her hand moved without permissionâjust her fingertips at first, barely brushing his temple.
He went still.
She traced down slowlyâthe edge of his cheekbone, the sharp line of his jaw. Learning the geography of his face with touch instead of sight.
When her palm finally settled against his cheek, his eyes closed for just a breath.
Then her other hand joined the first, cradling his face between them.
âThat what you want?â she asked. âTo remember me here?â
He looked up at her, jaw flexing beneath her palms.
âEvery room, Annie. Every corner. Wanna see you everywhere.â
The weight of that statement settled between them.
Not possession.
Presence.
He wanted her woven into his life. Into his space. Into every part of him that mattered.
âElijahââ
âI know.â He stood, helped her to her feet. âWe goinâ slow.â
âWe are,â she confirmed, even though her body was screaming the opposite.
âBut I needed you to see this,â he said, gesturing around the room. âNeeded you to know you belong here. Not just in Stackâs room. In mine too.â
Annieâs eyes stung.
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
âCome on,â he murmured. âStack should be back soon.â
âWhereâd he go?â
âOut. To give us space.â Smokeâs mouth quirked. âProbably pacing the block, waitinâ for permission to come home.â
Annie laughed wetly. âYâall are ridiculous.â
His lip quipped up. "Maybe," Smoke said. "But you here anyway."
He pressed a kiss to her foreheadâgentle, groundingâand led her back toward the kitchen.
Where they'd have to figure out what came next.
-
Annie sat at their kitchen table, belly full of eggs and, wearing Stackâs shirt over her slip, bare feet tucked under her.
The twins sat across from herâSmoke to her left, Stack to her right. Close but not crowding.
The easy warmth from dinner had shifted into something more serious. Intentional.
Smokeâs hands were folded on the table. Stack leaned back in his chair, but his eyes never left her face.
âWe need to talk,â Smoke said quietly.
Annieâs stomach flipped. âOkay.â
âAbout how this works,â Stack added. âThe three of us.â
She nodded, throat suddenly tight.
Smoke leaned forward slightly. âYou heard us last night. Through the door.â
It wasnât a question.
Heat crawled up Annieâs neck. âI⌠yeah. Some of it.â
âThen you know we had to figure some things out,â Smoke continued. âBetween us. About how we move with you.â
âBut that was just us,â Stack said. âNow we need to talk to you.â
Annie looked between them, heart picking up speed. âAm I in trouble?â
Stackâs expression softened immediately. âNo, mama. You ainât in trouble.â
âWe just need to make sure we all on the same page,â Smoke said. âAbout what this is. What we expect. What you need.â
Annie swallowed. âOkay.â
Smokeâs eyes held hers, steady and sure. âFirst thingâcommunication. If something bothers you, you tell us. Both of us. Not just one.â
âWe canât fix what we donât know about,â Stack added.
âAnd if we do something that makes you uncomfortable,â Smoke continued, âyou say so. Right then. No waiting. No letting it sit.â
Annie nodded slowly. âLike the money thing.â
âExactly like the money thing,â Smoke confirmed. âYou came to us. Thatâs what we need. Always.â
âBut I only saw Stack,â she said quietly. âYou werenât here.â
âDonât matter,â Smoke said firmly. âYou came to one of us, thatâs cominâ to both of us. We tell each other everything when it comes to you.â
Stack nodded. âNo secrets between us. About you or anything else.â
Annie processed that. âSo if I tell one of you somethingâŚâ
âThe otherâs gonna know,â Smoke finished. âThat a problem?â
She thought about it. About privacy. About trust.
âNo,â she said finally. âI donât think so. Long as⌠long as yâall donât make me feel like Iâm being talked about behind my back.â
âWe wonât,â Stack promised. âIt ainât gossip. Itâs just making sure we both know how to take care of you.â
Smokeâs hand moved across the table, palm up. An invitation.
Annie placed her hand in his.
His fingers closed around hers, warm and sure.
âSecond thing,â he said. âYour safety. Your comfort. That comes first. Always. Before what we want. Before what feels good to us.â
âIf you need to stop something, you stop it,â Stack added. âDonât worry about our feelings. Donât worry about disappointing us.â
âWe grown men,â Smoke said. âWe can handle it.â
Annieâs throat tightened. âWhat if I donât know what I want?â
âThen you say that,â Smoke said simply. âAnd we slow down til you figure it out.â
Stack reached over, tucked a curl behind her ear. âThis ainât a race, mama. We got time.â
âAll the time you need,â Smoke confirmed.
Annie looked down at their joined hands. âWhat about yâall? What do you need from me?â
The twins exchanged a glance.
âHonesty,â Smoke said. âEven when itâs hard.â
âAnd patience,â Stack added with a slight smile. âWe still figuring this out too.â
âWe ainât never done this before,â Smoke admitted. âSharing a woman we both serious about. We gonâ mess up sometimes.â
âBut weâll fix it,â Stack said. âLong as you tell us when we do.â
Annie nodded, something easing in her chest.
âThird thing,â Smoke continued, voice dropping slightly. âWhen you out thereâin town, at the market, whereverâyouâre ours now. People gonâ know that. People gonâ talk about that.â
âWe canât protect you from the talk,â Stack said quietly. âBut we can make sure nobody disrespects you to your face.â
âWhat does that mean?â Annie asked.
âMeans if somebody steps to you wrong, you tell us,â Smoke said. âMan or woman. Donât matter.â
âWeâll handle it,â Stack finished.
Annieâs pulse quickened. âHandle it how?â
âHowever we need to,â Smoke said evenly.
The weight of that settled over the table.
âI donât want yâall fighting because of me,â Annie said.
âAinât about what you want,â Smoke said, not unkind. âItâs about respect. You with us now. That means something.â
Stackâs hand found her shoulder. âYou donât gotta worry about it, mama. Just know we got you.â
She looked between them, seeing the steel beneath the gentleness.
These werenât men who made idle promises.
âOkay,â she whispered.
âAnd speaking of being out there,â Smoke continued, shifting slightly, âwe got a request.â
Annie looked up. âA request?â
Stack rubbed the back of his neck. âMore like⌠we asking you to consider something.â
âWhen you gotta go somewhere,â Smoke said, âinto town, to the market, anywhere thatâs a bit of a walkâweâd appreciate it if youâd let one of us take you.â
âOr at least let us know you going,â Stack added. âSo we ainât sitting here wondering.â
âYâall want me to⌠check in?â Annie asked slowly.
âWe want you to use us,â Smoke corrected. âWe got a car. We got the time. No reason for you to be walking long distances when we right here.â
âEspecially in the heat,â Stack said. âOr when itâs getting dark.â
âOr when you carrying things,â Smoke added.
Annie bit her lip, trying not to smile. âYâall worried about me?â
âTerrified,â Stack said, grinning now. âWe canât take the stress.â
âJust thinking about you walking all the way into town in this heatââ Smoke pressed a hand to his chest dramatically.
âMight kill us,â Stack finished.
Annie laughed, the sound surprising her. âYâall are ridiculous.â
âWe serious,â Smoke said, but his eyes were warm. âYou with us now. People know that. And we just⌠weâd feel better knowing you safe. Knowing where you at.â
Annie looked between themâthese two grown men trying so hard to ask instead of demand.
âSo if I need to go somewhereâŚâ she said slowly.
âYou let us know,â Smoke said. âWeâll take you. Or if we busy, weâll figure something out.â
âAnd if itâs just down the road or to a friends or something close?â she asked.
âThen you go,â Stack said with a shrug. âWe ainât saying you canât move. Just⌠maybe donât walk five miles in the heat by yourself when you got two men with a car whoâd be happy to drive you.â
âFor our hearts,â Smoke added, deadpan.
Annie shook her head, smiling despite herself. âYâall really that worried?â
âYes,â they said together.
She looked down at her hands, something warm settling in her chest.
They werenât demanding. Werenât controlling.
They were just⌠worried. Protective. Wanting to take care of her.
âOkay,â she said softly.
âOkay?â Smoke asked.
âIâll take it into consideration,â she said, lips twitching. âTry not to stress yâall hearts too much.â
Stack grinned. âThatâs all we asking.â
âBut I ainât promising nothinâ if yâall busy and I need something from town,â she added.
âThen you send word,â Smoke said. âWeâll make ourselves un-busy.â
âOr we send Cornbread,â Stack offered.
âPoint is,â Smoke continued, âyou ainât gotta do everything alone no more. We here. Use us.â
Annie nodded slowly. âIâll try.â
âThank you.â Smokeâs hand squeezed hers.
The conversation settled into comfortable quiet. The weight of everything saidâboundaries, expectations, promisesâhung in the air but didnât feel heavy. Just⌠present.
Annie glanced toward the window. The light had shifted, gone softer. Later than sheâd realized.
âI should probably head home,â she said, though something in her chest tightened at the thought.
âNo,â both twins said immediately.
She blinked. âNo?â
âItâs late,â Smoke said, voice firm but gentle. âAnd dark. You ainât walking home alone.â
âWe could drive you,â Stack offered. âButââ
âBut weâd rather you stay,â Smoke finished.
Annie looked between them. âStay here?â
âYou safe here,â Smoke said simply. âAnd we got the space.â
âPlus you already slept earlier,â Stack added with a slight grin. âMight as well finish the night proper.â
Annieâs pulse quickened. âWhere would IâŚ?â
âMy bed,â Stack said immediately.
âMy bed,â Smoke said at the same time.
They looked at each other.
âShe already slept in yours,â Smoke pointed out.
âExactly,â Stack said. âSo she probably comfortable there.â
âThatâs why she should take mine,â Smoke countered. âTo be fair.â
âFair to who?â
âTo both of us.â
Stack crossed his arms. âIâm taking the couch then.â
âLike hell you are,â Smoke said. âYou take the couch, I gotta hear about your back hurting all week.â
âThen you take it.â
âI ainât taking theââ
âIâll take Smokeâs bed,â Annie cut in.
Both twins stopped. Turned to look at her.
âYou sure?â Smoke asked.
Annie nodded. âItâs fair. Stack already let me sleep in his bed earlier. SoâŚâ She shrugged, trying to seem more casual than she felt. âSmokeâs bed tonight. Yâall can figure out the rest.â
Stackâs grin spread slow and wide. âSee? She gets it.â
Smokeâs expression softened, something warm flickering in his eyes. âAlright then.â
Annie stood, suddenly aware of how this night had unfoldedâhow sheâd gone from upset and uncertain to⌠here. Fed. Safe. Staying.
She crossed to Stack first, rose up on her toes, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.
âThank you,â she murmured. âFor earlier. For listeninâ.â
His hand came up to her waist, steadying her. âAnytime, mama.â
Then she turned to Smoke. Reached up and cupped his face gently, thumb brushing his jaw before she kissed his cheek too.
His eyes slid closed.Â
âAnd thank you,â she said quietly. âFor dinner. For⌠everything.â
His hand covered hers briefly. âYou donât gotta thank me, sugar.â
She smiledâsmall, a little shyâthen stepped back.
âGoodnight,â she said softly.
âNight, mama,â Stack said, voice warm.
âSleep well,â Smoke added.
Annie turned and headed down the hall, bare feet quiet on the floorboards.
Both twins watched her go.
Watched the way Stackâs shirt hung on her, hem brushing the back of her thighs. The way her hips swayed with each step. The way her hand trailed along the wall as she found her balance in the dim hallway.
She reached Smokeâs door, glanced back onceâcaught them both staringâand smiled before slipping inside.
The door closed with a soft click.
For a moment, neither twin moved.
Just stood there in the kitchen, staring at that closed door.
Then Stack let out a long, slow breath.
âWe in trouble,â he said quietly.
Smokeâs jaw worked. âYeah.â
Stack looked at his brother. âYou think she knows?â
âKnows what?â
âWhat she does to us.â
Smoke was quiet for a beat. Then: âNo. Not yet.â
âGood,â Stack said. ââCause if she did, weâd be fucked.â
Smoke almost smiled. âWe already fucked, brother.â
â-
Annie woke to silence.
Not the heavy, middle-of-the-night kindâbut the soft, golden silence of early morning. The kind that felt like the world was still waking up, stretching, deciding what kind of day it wanted to be.
Sun filtered through Smokeâs curtains in thin, honeyed streaks, dust motes dancing lazy in the light. The air smelled faintly of cedar and tobaccoâhimâand for a second, she forgot where she was.
Then it came back.
Their apartment. Smokeâs bed. Sheâd stayed the night.
Annie sat up slowly, the sheets pooling around her waist. Stackâs still shirt hung loose on her frame, the fabric soft and worn from years of use. She rubbed sleep from her eyes, listening.
Nothing.
No footsteps. No voices. No sounds of anyone moving around.
They were still asleep.
She should probably stay in bed. Wait for them to wake up. Not go poking around their space like she lived here.
But curiosityâand something else, something softerâpulled at her.
Annie slipped out of bed, bare feet quiet on the cool floorboards, and padded toward the door. She eased it open just a crack, peeking out into the hallway.
The apartment was still dim, curtains drawn against the morning sun. Everything felt suspended in that in-between timeânot quite night, not quite day.
Down the hall, Stackâs door was open.
She shouldnât look.
She knew she shouldnât.
But her feet carried her forward anyway, quiet as a breath, until she stood in the doorway.
And there they were.
Both of them.
Passed out in Stackâs bed like theyâd collapsed there mid-conversation and never bothered to separate.
Stack sprawled on his back, one arm flung over his face, mouth slightly open. His shirt was half-unbuttoned, twisted from sleep, one leg hanging off the edge of the mattress.
Smoke was on his side facing him, still mostly dressedâpants, shirt barely undoneâlike heâd meant to stay up but lost the fight somewhere around 2am. His breathing was slow, steady, peaceful in a way Annie rarely saw when he was awake.
Brothers.
Together.
Comfortable in a way that made something warm and tender bloom in Annieâs chest.
They looked younger like this. Softer. Less like the dangerous men the town whispered about and more like⌠just them.
She smiled to herself, something aching and sweet settling behind her ribs.
Then she backed away quietly, closing Stackâs door with care, and headed for the kitchen.
The kitchen was small but organizedâSmokeâs doing, no doubt. Everything had a place. Canisters lined up by size. Utensils hanging on hooks. Dish towels folded neat on the counter.
Annie opened cabinets slowly, careful not to make noise, taking inventory.
Flour. A little sugar. Eggs in the icebox. Some cornmeal. Butter wrapped in cloth.
Not much, but enough.
Bachelors, she thought with a small smile. They probably bought meals more than they made them. Ate at the juke or Hankâs or wherever was convenient.
But they had something. And she could work with something.
She found a bowl, a whisk, measured ingredients by feel more than precision. Back home, she made johnnycakes all the timeâsimple, sweet, filling. The kind of thing her mama used to make on Sunday mornings when money was tight but love was abundant.
Her hands moved through the familiar motions: mixing batter, heating the griddle, watching for bubbles before flipping.
It felt good to do this. To make something for them. After everything theyâd done for herâfeeding her, holding her, letting her sleep safe under their roofâthis was the least she could offer.
The griddle sizzled. The kitchen filled with the warm, buttery smell of cakes browning on cast iron.
By the time she had a small stack plated, golden and perfect, she heard movement down the hall.
Footsteps. A low voice. Another responding.
Her heart picked up speed.
Annie wiped her hands on a towel, suddenly nervous.
What if they thought she was overstepping? Going through their things without asking?
What ifâ
Stack appeared first.
His hair would sticking up in three directions if it wasnât so low cut, eyes still heavy with sleep, shirt completely unbuttoned now and hanging loose. He rubbed his face, yawnedâ
Then froze.
Just stopped dead in the kitchen doorway, staring at her.
âAnnie?â
His voice was rough, still scraped raw from sleep.
Smoke appeared right behind him, moving slower, more careful. His shirt was still half-done, eyes sharper than Stackâs but still soft around the edges.
He saw her.
Saw the plate on the counter.
Saw her standing there in his shirt, flour dusted on her hands, looking like she belonged in their kitchen.
They both just⌠stared.
At her. At the johnnycakes. At the whole impossible, beautiful picture of it.
âMorninâ,â Annie said softly, suddenly self-conscious under the weight of their attention. âI, uh⌠I made breakfast. Hope thatâs okay.â
Stack blinked. Slow. Like he was still half-asleep and maybe dreaming.
Then he looked at Smoke.
Smoke looked back at him.
Some silent conversation passed between themâfast, wordless, the way only twins could manage.
Stack turned back to her.
âYou made breakfast,â he repeated slowly, like he was testing the words. Seeing if they were real.
âItâs just johnnycakes,â Annie said quickly, fidgeting with the towel in her hands. âNothing fancy. I found what you had in the cabinets and thoughtâI mean, yâall let me stay, fed me, took care of me. Itâs the least I could do.â
âYou made us breakfast,â Stack said again, still not moving.
Smoke stepped forwardâslow, measured, like he was approaching something precious that might spook and run.
He stopped at the counter, eyes locked on the plate. Then on her.
âYou didnât have to do that,â he said quietly. Carefully.
âI wanted to.â Annie tucked a curl behind her ear, suddenly feeling exposed. âIs it⌠is it okay? I didnât mean to overstep orââ
Stack crossed to the counter like he was in a trance.
Picked up a johnnycake with both hands like it was something holy.
Took a bite.
His eyes fell closed.
A sound left his throatâlow, almost painedâand he chewed slow, deliberate, like he was trying to memorize the taste.
âMy God,â he mumbled through a mouthful. âOh my Lord.â
Annie bit back a smile. âItâs good?â
âGood?â Stackâs eyes opened, bright and a little wild. âAnnie, this isâI donât evenââ He took another bite, bigger this time. âWhere you been all our lives?â
âStack,â Smoke said, a warning in his voice.
But Stack ignored him, already reaching for another johnnycake. âNo, Iâm serious. This what itâs like? Havinâ a woman around?â
Smoke shot him a look sharp enough to cut.Â
âWhat?â Stack grinned, mouth full, completely shameless. âIâm just sayinâ. We wake up to this? Somebody cookinâ for us? Takinâ care of us?â He gestured at the plate with his half-eaten cake. âEvery morning? Sign me the hell up.â
âIf heâs beinâ too much ââ Smoke started.Â
âI ainât beinâ enough,â Stack shot back. He looked at Annie, eyes soft despite the grin. âSeriously. Thank you. This is⌠itâs real good.â
Annie laughed despite herself, some of the tension bleeding out of her shoulders. âYâall really donât cook, do you?â
âWe manage,â Smoke said, still standing there like he didnât quite know what to do with himself.
âBarely,â Stack corrected around another bite. âWe buy food. We eat food. But make food?â He shook his head. âNah. Thatâs a whole different thing.â
Smoke finally moved.
Crossed to herânot the counter, not the foodâher.
He stopped close. Close enough that Annie could see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, the way his jaw was still tight with something he wasnât saying.
âThank you,â he said quietly. Seriously.
Like sheâd given him something more than breakfast.
Like sheâd given him a piece of herself.
âItâs nothingââ
âIt ainât nothing.â His hand came up, slow and careful, and tucked a stray coil behind her ear. His fingers lingered for just a secondâwarm, gentle, reverent. âYouâre in our home. Makinâ us food. Takinâ care of us.â
His voice dropped lower, rougher.
âThatâs everything.â
Annieâs throat tightened, eyes stinging.
âYâall are gonna make me emotional,â she whispered.
âDonât do that,â Stack said quickly, suddenly at her other side. âWe ainât mean toââ
âHappy tears,â she clarified, laughing wetly. âThese are happy tears.â
Stackâs whole body relaxed, grin returning. âOh. Go âhead then. Iâll allow it.â
Smokeâs thumb brushed her cheek onceâsoft, barely thereâthen he stepped back.
âSit,â he said. âEat with us.â
âI alreadyââ
âSit, Annie.â
The firmness in his voice made her knees weak.
She sat.
They settled around the small tableâAnnie between them, because that seemed to be where she lived nowâand ate johnnycakes and drank coffee that was too strong and probably too old but tasted perfect anyway.
Stack kept making sounds of appreciation that bordered on obscene.
Smoke ate slower, more deliberate, but his eyes kept finding her. Watching her like he was trying to figure out how sheâd managed to slip so completely into their lives in such a short time.
âYou always cook like this?â Stack asked, reaching for his third cake.
âWhen I got the ingredients,â Annie said. âMama taught me young. Said a woman who could make somethinâ outta nothinâ would never go hungry.â
âSmart woman,â Smoke murmured.
âShe was.â
Something passed over Annieâs faceâbrief, sadâand both twins caught it.
Stackâs hand found hers under the table. Squeezed once.
She squeezed back.
They didnât ask. Didnât push.
Just let the moment settle, then moved on.
âSo what you got planned today?â Stack asked, lighter now.
âNeed to get home,â Annie said. âGet cleaned up. Handle some things. I got orders to fill, herbs to bundle.â
Annie smiled. âMostly tonics right now. Mrs. Hayes needs something for her joints. Mr. Pattersonâs got a cough that wonât quit. And Miss Ruth wants more of that sleep blend I made her.â
âSleep blend?â Stackâs brow raised.
âChamomile, valerian root, little bit of lavender,â Annie explained. âHelps folks who canât settle at night.â
Smokeâs eyes tracked her face as she spoke. âWhere you get all that? The herbs.â
âSome I grow myself. Some I buy from certain shops in the market. Some I gotta order specialâthose take time to come in.â
âFrom where?â Smoke pressed, and there was something in his toneânot pushy, just⌠filing information away.
âDepends. Sometimes from up north. Sometimes from traders passing through.â
He nodded slowly, like he was making a mental note.
Stack grinned. âSo you basically a lilâ witch.â
âStackââ Smoke warned.
But Annie laughed. âSome folks do call it that. I just call it knowinâ what plants do and how to use âem right.â
âThatâs real skill,â Smoke said quietly. âNot everybody got that kind of knowledge.â
Annieâs cheeks warmed. âMy grandmother taught me. Said it was important for a woman to know how to heal. How to help.â
Smoke held her gaze for a beat longer than necessary.
Then nodded once.
Like heâd learned something important.
Annie changed back into her dress from yesterdayâwrinkled now, lived-inâand met the twins at the door.
Both of them were already dressed, hats in hand, looking like theyâd been waiting.
âReady?â Smoke asked.
She nodded.
The morning air hit her face the second they stepped outsideâcool, clean, touched with the smell of dew and woodsmoke from someoneâs breakfast fire. The sun was already climbing, promising a warm day.
They fell into step easily. Stack on her right, Smoke on her left, all three of them moving in sync down the dirt path that led back toward town.
For a while, nobody spoke.
Just walked. Listened to birds calling, boots crunching on gravel, the distant sound of someone chopping wood.
It felt peaceful.
Easy.
Like this was just what they did now.
But the closer they got to town, the more Annie felt itâthat creeping awareness of eyes. Of being seen.
The first person they passed was Old Mr. Leroy, sitting on his porch with his pipe.
He looked up.
Saw Annie.
Saw both twins flanking her.
His eyebrows climbed damn near to his hairline.
âMorninâ,â Smoke said evenly, tipping his head.
âMorninâ,â Mr. Leroy replied slowly, eyes still wide.
They kept walking.
Annieâs cheeks burned.
âHeâs gonna tell everybody,â she muttered.
âLet him,â Stack said easily.
âStackââ
âWhat?â He glanced at her, unbothered. âWe ainât doinâ nothinâ wrong. Just walkinâ a lady home.â
âBoth of you,â she pointed out.
âBoth of us,â he confirmed, grinning.
Smoke said nothing. Just kept walking, hand occasionally brushing the small of her back when they passed someoneâgrounding, protective, gone before it could be called improper.
They passed two more people before they hit Main Street.
Both stared.
Oneâa woman Annie vaguely recognized from churchâwhispered something to her companion and they both turned to watch.
Annie wanted to disappear.
âYou alright?â Smoke asked quietly.
âYeah,â she lied.
His hand found her back again. Stayed a second longer this time.
Thenâ
âAnnie!â
All three of them turned.
A woman hurried toward them from across the streetâearly twenties, warm brown skin, hair pinned up neat, wearing a simple blue dress that made her eyes pop.
Pearline.
Annieâs chest flooded with relief.
âHey, Pearl,â Annie said, smiling.
Pearlineâs eyes flicked to the twinsâquick, assessingâthen back to Annie. Her smile widened, something knowing and playful dancing in her expression.
âWell good morning,â Pearline said warmly. âAinât this a sight.â
Stack grinned. âMorninâ, maâam.â
Smoke tipped his head. âMiss Pearline.â
Pearlineâs gaze lingered on them for a beatâtaking in the way they stood on either side of Annie, the protective energy, the ease of it.
"Gentlemen," she said politely. Then, to Annie: "You look well-rested."
There was a weight to those words. A question.
Annie would blush if she could. "I'm fine. The boys were kind enough to walk me home."
Pearline's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Walk you home? From where, exactly?"
There was slow, genuine confusion on Pearlineâs face before it clicked.
Oh.
Oh.
Pearline's smile grew. She pursed her lips the way she always did when she found something juicy.
"Well," Pearline said, drawing out the word. "Home is where the heart is, I suppose."
Stack snorted. Annie was sure Smoke hit him by the dull thud behind her, but she couldn't confirm.
"Both of 'em?" Pearline's tone was light, teasing.
"Both of 'em," Stack confirmed, still grinning.
Pearlineâs smile didnât falter. She stepped closer to Annie, lowered her voice just slightlyânot quite a whisper, but soft enough that the twins had to strain to hear.
âYou okay?â she asked, eyes searching Annieâs face with genuine concern.
Annie nodded. âIâm good.â
âYou sure?â
âIâm sure, Pearl.â
Pearline studied her for another second, then her smile returnedâfull, warm, genuine.
âAlright then.â She straightened, voice louder now. âYâall take care of our girl, now.â
âAlways,â Smoke said simply.
âYes maâam,â Stack added.
Pearline squeezed Annieâs hand onceâa silent weâll talk laterâthen paused. Her eyes flicked between the twins, something mischievous sparking in her expression.
She tilted her head, lips curving into a grin.
âAt least she ainât gotta worry about mixinâ yâall up in the dark.â
The words hung in the air for half a second.
Then Stack choked.
Like actually chokedâcoughed into his fist, eyes wide.
Smoke went completely still. His jaw dropped slightly, mouth opening like he wanted to respond but his brain had short-circuited.
âWhat?â she said innocently. âIâm just sayinâ. Twins and all. Could be confusing. But Iâm sure yâall got it figured out.â
She winked.
Winked.
Stack was still coughing. Smoke looked like he was struggling between outrage and reluctant amusement.
âPearline Harris, I swearââ Annie started.
âIâm just playinâ,â Pearline said, grin widening. âBut really though. Yâall take care.â
She waved, turned on her heel, and walked off like she hadnât just dropped a bomb in the middle of Main Street.
The three of them stood there in stunned silence.
Stack cleared his throat. Once. Twice.
âDid she justââ he started.
âYes,â Annie said flatly, neck still burning.
Smoke dragged a hand down his face. âJesus.â
âIâm sorry,â Annie said quickly. âSheâsâshe donât have a filter sometimes.â
âDonât apologize,â Stack said, voice still rough. He was grinning now though, shaking his head. âThat was⌠bold.â
âThatâs Pearline,â Annie muttered.
Smoke was quiet for a beat. Thenâ
âI like her though.â
Annie blinked. âWhat?â
âShe wouldnât joke like that if she thought this was wrong,â he said, eyes still tracking Pearlineâs retreating figure. âShe checkinâ on you. Makinâ sure you good. But she ainât judginâ.â
Annie turned that over in her head.
He was right.
Pearline had been protectiveâasking if Annie was okay, making sure she wasnât being pressured. But she hadnât looked scandalized. Hadnât whispered warnings or tried to pull Annie aside for a lecture.
Sheâd joked.
Like this was just⌠a thing. A choice Annie made that Pearline respected.
âYeah,â Annie said softly. âSheâs good people.â
âWe should get you home,â Smoke said. âBefore anybody else stops us with commentary.â
Not with Pearlineâs laughter still echoing in Annieâs ears.
Not with the twins flanking herâsteady, unbothered, hers.
They walked her all the way to her front step.
The house looked smaller somehow, lonelier, after spending the night surrounded by them.
âThank you,â Annie said. âFor⌠everything. For letting me stay. For walking me home.â
âDonât gotta thank us,â Stack said.
âWe meant what we said,â Smoke added. âYou need us, weâre there.â
Annie nodded, throat tight.
She started to turnâ
âAnnie.â
She looked back at Smoke.
âTomorrow night,â he said. âDinner. All three of us.â
Her stomach flipped.
âOut?â Her voice came out smaller than she meant. âIn public?â
âIf you ready,â Smoke clarified, eyes searching her face. âIf not, we canââ
âNo,â she said quickly. âIâm ready.â
Stack grinned. âYeah?â
âYeah.â Annie lifted her chin. âIâm ready.â
âGood,â Smoke said. âWeâll pick you up. Six oâclock.â
âOkay.â
They stood there another beatânone of them quite ready to say goodbye.
The morning sun caught in Smokeâs eyes, turned them almost gold. Stackâs grin was soft, warm, pleased.
Annie committed the image to memory.
Then she smiled, turned, and went inside.
The twins watched until her door closed.
Stood there on her front step for a moment longer, neither quite ready to leave.
Finally, Stack broke the silence.
âShe made us breakfast,â he said, voice soft with wonder.
Smoke shook his head, mouth twitching into something close to a smile.
âYeah,â he said quietly. âShe did.â
They turned and walked back toward town together.
Side by side.
Already counting down the hours until tomorrow night.
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A/N - There's nothing like writing (and reading!) domestic fluff. Like yes please take care of Annie at home, being all sweet and restrained and cute. Lord I need it so bad. Just writing what I need in my life frfrfrfrf.
You guys have me wanting to extend this series! It was originally supposed to be 4 parts and an epilogue, but I'm feeling to extend. That or start another series but it's long asf. Who knows.
Have a pending Christmas fic that should drop next week.
I really appreciate your reblogs & comments and reactions. It keeps me writing đ Can't wait to hear what ya'll think!
Thanks for reading!
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This work of art is part of "The Moore Kind" universe. Where Smoke, Annie, and Stack exist as a Trio. If you'd like to learn more about them, check out My Masterlist đ
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All Fic Taglist - Interested in my future works? Let me know if you'd like me to add you to my tag list. (Also lmk if you want me to remove you. No hard feelings I promise.)