What is highly atypical is the second circle, which consists of a wide variety of assistive pleasure devices, many of which have been on Charlene’s I think I might want to try that eventually list. It’s a long list. Almost as long as her I thought it would be fun but I changed my mind list.

Charlene and I have been extraordinarily careful about keeping what she feels is our sometimes colorful sex life private. What happens behind closed doors should remain behind closed doors, as far as I’m concerned. It’s the reason I’ve always insisted on an NDA—until Charlene, anyway. Not particularly romantic or enticing when starting a new relationship, but my privacy has always taken precedence.

In lieu of signing a non-disclosure agreement, Charlene promised not to discuss our details with her girlfriends. Those women love to share, especially her best friend, Violet, and I have a feeling they might not fully understand the complexities of our relationship, since sometimes even I struggle with that.

“I’m sorry,” Charlene’s voice shakes along with her hands as she clutches the ends of the throw.

“Stay here, please.” I bend and press a kiss to the top of her head, hoping the simple gesture helps dispel some of her anxiety.

Her bottom lip trembles. “Okay.”

I want to assure her my dark mood isn’t directed at her, but I need to deal with my teammates before they run their mouths to someone besides each other, like their girlfriends or wives. This is why relationships are tricky. I may trust Charlene to maintain our privacy, but I can’t be sure anyone else will—especially when we live in a world where people like to color inside the lines, and Charlene believes she likes to scribble in all the margins, when really she likes to get close to the margins and then run away from them.

I step over the sex toys, noting exactly how many are from her I thought it would be fun but I changed my mind box. Apparently she had big plans. I wasn’t expecting her until much later, as she’d messaged earlier to let me know she had to work late. She must have rearranged her schedule to accommodate me.

I drag a hand down my face and follow my teammates outside as they head for their respective vehicles.

“Wait.” It’s more bark than word.

They turn as a collective, expressions ranging from curious to downright disturbed. I need to do triage and smooth this over. I slip my hands into my pockets, conscious to remain calm on the outside, unaffected. I think it’s pointless to tell them it isn’t what it looks like, because it honestly is exactly what it looks like, just not quite the way they think.

Instead I go with, “It would be ideal if we could all keep this between us.”

“And you all think I’m fucked in the head? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Lance waves a hand in the air as I open my mouth to speak. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” He spins around and stalks to his Hummer. “I’m out.”

“It’s really not . . .” I don’t know how to finish that sentence without compromising Charlene more than she already has been, so I don’t.

“We’ll talk to Lance. You don’t have to worry about him saying anything.” Miller thumbs over his shoulder and then motions between himself and Randy.

Randy lifts a finger, looking like he has something to add, but he stops and strokes his beard, gives me a nod, and follows Miller to the Hummer. Of all the guys, Randy is probably the least likely to get on my ass about this. Last month he and Lily did five grand in damage to a hotel bathroom when they ripped the sink off the wall during one of their own sexy funtimes and flooded the room.

“I always thought you were so . . . normal.” Rookie rushes after them. He doesn’t even have the door closed before Lance starts backing up.

Alex is the only one left. We watch Lance’s Hummer peel out of the driveway.

“What was that about?” I ask.

Alex glances at me, his expression flat, lips mashed into a line. “I don’t know.”

I don’t like the way he’s looking at me, like he doesn’t know me. And in some ways, he doesn’t. He only knows the sides of me I let him see. And now he’s seen one that’s not easy to explain.

“Let Charlene talk to Violet, please.”

He huffs out a small laugh and shakes his head. “What Charlene tells Vi isn’t your problem right now, Darren.”

“It’s not what it lo—” I stop, because it’s pointless to say that. “It’s complicated.”

“Well, it just got a fuckload more complicated.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m gonna see if I can catch up with the guys and make sure they keep this to themselves, maybe find out what’s got Lance so riled.”