Cover Reveal: Can’t Say Goodbye by Eden Finley
Can’t Say Goodbye | Eden Finley
Release Date: January 25th, 2023
Cover Design: Natasha Snow Designs
Photo: Wander Aguiar Photography
Models: Jacob, Patrick & Scott
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Our quick hellos are followed by drawn out goodbyes.
What started out as one fun night turned into a regular thing none of us ever planned for.
I can’t walk away from Kit and Prescott. Kit is the stern nurturer I need. He’s the caretaker, the solid presence. Prescott enables my wild ways. He’s someone I can have fun with. They couldn’t be more perfect for me.
But come graduation, I have to move across the country, and geography isn’t our only obstacle. Being in a relationship with two men isn’t good for my public image, my brother’s NFL career, or the media frenzy that surrounds my famously queer family.
We have a plan to meet up once a year, but with every reunion, every brief visit, we fall deeper.
There has to be a breaking point, something that will end it for us, or soon it will be impossible to say goodbye at all.
As soon as the bartender hands me my drink and I pay, I turn, only to hit a wall of SEAL. It’s the darker-haired one of the two. My drink spills all over his tight black shirt, and I would be mortified if it wasn’t the move I was planning to do on my way back past them. It just so happened he approached me first.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, trying to sound as sincere as I can.
The half smile he sent my way while I was on the dance floor is still in place. “I’m sure you are.” Then? He reaches back and takes his shirt off, wiping down his wet abs with it.
I almost swallow my tongue.
A voice comes from behind me. “Ignore him. He wouldn’t know the word ‘subtle’ if it hit him over the head.”
I turn to find the other guy there, and I have no idea when he moved. If the haircuts, muscles, and dog tags hanging around the shirtless one’s neck didn’t tip me off about them being SEALs, their stealth would.
“I’m Kit. The show-off is Prescott.”
“Brady,” I croak and then clear my throat.
I was supposed to be approaching them or subtly moving closer and closer to them to get them to approach me. I love that they’ve made the first move, but they’ve thrown me off my game.
It’s hard not to blurt out they should take me home and fuck me.
Kit takes a seat at the bar, facing outward like he was before. “Pres, go dry your shirt in the bathroom and put your abs away.”
“I’m not complaining about the abs,” I say. “At all.”
Prescott laughs. “I’ll be right back.”
He heads toward the bathrooms at the back. I glance at Kit, silently questioning if we’re supposed to be following him, but Kit chuckles and gets the bartender’s attention.
“Another of whatever he ordered.”
“It’s Coke,” I say.
“Ah. Let me guess. You either go to Franklin U or San Diego State.”
“FU all the way.” And yes, I meant to emphasize the FU part. It’s the best thing about my school, really—the double entendres. “It’s not just the name of the school but an invitation. In case you were wondering.”
Kit throws his head back and laughs. “Forward, I’ll give you that. But which one of us are you interested in?”
This is where it gets tricky. Sometimes it happens naturally, like on the dance floor sandwiched between two guys who offer to take me home. I’ve found there’s no real way to ask to be spit roasted eloquently.
“What’s your deal with him?” I ask.
“Roommates as in actual roommates or roommates like in the fifties where ‘they never married women and lived together in a one-bedroom apartment and shared a bed but they were just roommates’?”
“Somewhere in between?
I grin. “Perfect answer.”
“Why’s that perfect?”
I step closer to him. Kit widens his legs so I can stand between them, and his hands land on my hips. “Because now I can ask for both of you without making it weird between you.”
“Would you have cared if you made it weird?”
“I want a threesome, not to wreck someone’s relationship.”
A large presence appears, and Prescott is back. “Did I hear ‘threesome?’ Damn, Kit. You worked fast tonight.”
“Surprisingly, I didn’t have to work at all,” Kit says. “Brady here might be even less subtle than you.”
“I take it this isn’t your first time picking someone up and taking them home, then?” I ask.
“It’s our favorite thing to do while off duty,” Prescott says.
I shrug. “Works for me. I’ll go tell my friend I’m bailing on him.”
Prescott sits while I go find Felix. He’s at the other end of the bar ordering water, and as soon as I say I’m leaving, he wants all the details.
When I point out Kit and Prescott, he says, “May you have the spit-roasting you truly deserve.” Loudly. Luckily, the guys are too far away to hear it, but even if they did, I don’t think I’d care. I’d hope they’d take it as a suggestion. But this is exactly why I love Felix. He’s sex positive and doesn’t judge me for who I am and what I’m into.
I’m not so sure I could say the same for many others.
I kiss the top of Felix’s head and go back to Prescott and Kit with anticipation thrumming through me. I’m not going to get my hopes up though. Not yet.
I’ve been in situations before where couples have wanted to bring in a third only to get cold feet when it came to going through with it. I get it, and it’s understandable, but it’s taught me not to count my chickens, so to speak.
“Ready to get out of here?” I ask them.
For their part, there’s no hesitation as Prescott stands and wraps his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s go.”
Kit follows, and outside, the breeze cools my hot skin.
“Car?” I ask.
“Our place is close by,” Prescott says.
No car means no license plate. “Hmm, okay. I’m gonna need to take photos of you then.”
They stop me and stand in front of me.
“Why?” Kit asks.
“In case I end up getting fished out of San Diego Bay. My friend back there will have a lead on where to find my killers. Oh, and the address of where we’re going will help too. Thanks.”
Prescott steps closer and reaches into my front pocket to pull my phone out. He’s so close I can feel his breath on my cheek, and I shiver, goose bumps scattering all over my skin.
He holds up my phone. “As long as these photos don’t end up on social media.”
“They won’t. Unless you kill me.”
He laughs. “Of course. Get in here between us.”
I blink up at him. “That sounds promising.”
Kit shakes his head. “We’re going to have our hands full with you, aren’t we?”
“I hope so.”
Prescott opens the camera from my lock screen and holds his arms out. “Smile.”
I stick out my tongue instead.
“You do know if something did happen to you, that would be the photo splashed all over the news?” Kit points out. “Are you sure you want that?”
“Hmm, good point. Though, not at all reassuring. Take a couple more in case.”
After Prescott’s snapped a couple of more pics, he hands the phone back to me. “Just so you know, if those photos do end up online, it could put our lives and careers on the line, so it would be smart of us not to hurt you in any way.”
“In any way? What if I ask for it?” I bat my eyelashes one more time.
“Jesus H Christ,” Kit hisses in my ear.
“Mm, seems you’ve found a way to make Kit weak in the knees,” Prescott says. “We’re going to have so much fun with you.”
About The Author
Eden Finley is an Amazon bestselling author who writes steamy contemporary romances that are full of snark and light-hearted fluff.
She doesn’t take anything too seriously and lives to create an escape from real life for her readers. The ideas always begin with a wackadoodle premise, and she does her best to turn them into romances with heart.
With a short attention span that rivals her son’s, she writes multiple different pairings: MM, MMF, and MF.
She’s also an Australian girl and apologises for her Australianisms that sometimes don’t make sense to anyone else.
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