An emotional new polyamorous romance is out this week from Claudia Burgoa, and I have a sneak peek for you.
Excerpt
Dustin
“Have you been on social media lately?” Gavin, my manager, asks as he strides into my house like he’s about to drop a bomb.
“I hate social media,” I grumble, already bracing myself for whatever gossip he’s about to drop.
“Checked the internet at all?” he presses, and I can sense the tension in his voice.
“What the fuck did I do now?” I mutter, resigned to listen to some nonsense the social media posted about me.
Isn’t this why I pay him? To make these problems go away? Not to let them drag on like this, drawing out every piece of bad news as if it’s a game of Guess Who Tried to Fuck You Now.
It’s not like I care much. This is just another chapter in the ongoing shitshow that’s been my life.
Scandals, headlines, gossip—I’ve lived through it all. I’m Dustin Haverbrook, son of Warren Haverbrook: prodigy musician, the focal point of a very public divorce, and walking scandal magnet. Add a few DUIs, a string of messy breakups, and a couple of false overdose rumors for good measure.
And of course, the tragedy that still haunts me—my parents’ fatal car accident. Both were drunk. Both high. No one ever confirmed who was driving, or what really happened that night.
I still don’t understand why they were even in the same car. After such a bitter, well-publicized divorce, they shouldn’t have been speaking, let alone sharing a ride. But one morning, I woke up to the news that my parents were gone, and suddenly, I was being shipped off to live with my grandparents in Blissful Meadows, Connecticut.
Blissful Meadows wasn’t just any small town. It felt like something out of a dream—untouched by time, where summers were golden, and the air always smelled like pine and fresh-cut grass.
A place where life seemed simpler, where kids rode their bikes down tree-lined streets, and the neighbors still brought casseroles when someone moved in. The kind of place where time slowed down, just enough for you to breathe.
It became my happy place. My escape. The place where everything changed.
It’s where I first saw her. Where I found them.
Halsey and Santos didn’t just let me into their world—they made me feel like I belonged there. Like I had always belonged. Like I was worthy of love. They tried to put the broken pieces of me back together. And for a while, they almost did. Blissful Meadows became the place where I was theirs, and they became my everything.
Blissful Meadows, where I fell in love with both of them—Halsey and Santos.
It’s where everything felt simpler, yet impossibly complicated. The air was always thick with summer heat and big dreams. We’d talk about our futures like we could shape them into anything we wanted.
In the winter, the town would fall quiet under a blanket of snow, like it was holding its breath. We’d huddle together, sharing secrets under a warm blanket, our laughter cutting through the stillness.
I was young, reckless, and hopelessly in love with the idea of us. They became my whole world. But worlds don’t stay perfect forever. Reality has a way of creeping in, especially when everything you care about is suddenly under the harsh light of the spotlight.
Gavin’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “You were found making out with Santos Calderón-Bélanger—the assistant captain of the Orcas, poster boy for the league, now in headlines for his life-threatening injury,” he says, handing me his phone.
The image on the screen pulls me out of my haze. It’s a blurry shot of me leaning over Santos, lips on his, while he lies in a hospital bed. The corners of my mouth twitch because, yeah, it did happen—even if he was loopy and so fucking high on pain meds. He asked for it. It was more than just a peck.
“I did . . .” I admit, staring at the image on the phone. “But we weren’t making out. It was more like . . .”
My voice trails off, frustration bubbling up inside me. What happened to fucking discretion? Keeping this between us? I can still see the nurse in the corner, pocketing the hundred-dollar bill I’d slipped him. Clearly, it wasn’t enough to keep him from selling the story to the highest bidder.
I hope he’s using the cash for something worthwhile, but of course, now I have to clean up the mess. Not for me—I couldn’t care less about my image. I’m proudly queer, unapologetically bold, and I’ve built my career by owning exactly who I am. Scandals don’t faze me anymore—they just add to the story people expect.
But this . . . this could ruin Santos.
One picture, one careless moment, and suddenly everything he’s worked for, everything we’ve fought to protect, could be torn apart. And I know exactly what’s next. Jean-Luc will lose it. He’ll probably send Santos right back to another “conversion” center, like he did when we were seventeen. Try to fix him. Try to erase the parts of him that don’t fit into his perfect vision of the world.
But I won’t let him. Not this time.
This time, it’s different. I’m not the same helpless kid watching them tear apart the boy I loved. Now, I can take control. Now, I have the power to protect him—to protect us.
“Spin something with that picture. Doctor it, throw out different headlines—just keep Santos out of it,” I say, my voice steady even though my mind is racing.
Gavin is the kind of guy who can turn the worst situation into a story that somehow works. He’ll make lemonade out of the lemons the world throws at me, and then he’ll throw a party with it.
Gavin raises an eyebrow, exasperation bleeding into his voice. “You don’t care if people think you’re kissing some random guy in a hospital?”
I scoff. “Like that’s going to hurt my image. The bad boy of alternative rock kissing some rando? I do that at every other concert or party,” I say, shaking my head. “Didn’t they have me at an orgy two weeks ago in London? Let them think what they want.”
It’s a lie. I was celebrating Grandma’s eighty-seventh birthday. As long as she believes I’m sober and living a respectable life—or as respectable as a musician like me can be—I don’t give a fuck what the world thinks. But I need to fix this. For him.
“It won’t be that simple,” Gavin says.
I need to get Santos away from his father. But where?
“Then, find me a solution,” I snap, my tone harsher than I meant it to be.
The pressure inside me is building—every emotion I’ve buried claws its way to the surface. Everything I’ve been holding in since they tore Halsey away from us, since they shattered the only real thing I’ve ever known. Santos and I, we’ve been surviving in the cracks, grasping at whatever broken fragments we could hold on to. But it’s never enough.
It’s never been enough.
I need a center focused on sports medicine that can get him back on the ice by next season—or sooner. Hockey is his life, just like music is mine. Taking that from him would be like ripping my voice from my throat, pulling the notes from my soul, tearing the muse from my existence.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, desperation clawing at my chest, my mind spinning for an answer. And then it hits me—the ace I’ve been holding onto for two years if not longer. The one hope I’ve been keeping in my back pocket.
“Check if there’s space in her practice.”
Gavin raises an eyebrow, already knowing where this is going. “Her practice?”
“Halsey,” I say, a grin spreading across my face because this might be the most brilliant, reckless idea I’ve ever had. Wouldn’t it be perfect to not only gift him his recovery, but also give him back the girl he’s never stopped dreaming about? “Actually, forget that. Get my jet ready. I’m going to visit her and convince her to treat him. Is she still dating that asshole?”
Gavin rubs his temple, either skeptical or flat-out frustrated—probably both. “Are you planning on telling her you’ve been stalking her all this time?”
“I haven’t been stalking her,” I correct, leaning back with a sigh. “I’ve been taking care of her. For years.”
“By keeping tabs on her,” Gavin shoots back, eyes narrowing. “Creating scholarships and fellowship opportunities that only she qualifies for?”
I shrug, unfazed. “After the hell she went through because of us, she deserves a chance to chase her dreams. I just made them possible.”
Isn’t that what you do for the ones you love? You sacrifice. You give until there’s nothing left. You tend to their happiness, even if it costs you your own. She taught me that—Halsey. She showed me what it meant to love without conditions, to hold someone’s dreams higher than your own.
“So now you’re going to cash in a favor?”
I shake my head, the smile fading as the truth settles in. There’s nothing to cash in. Nothing. Everything I did—it was because I wanted her to be happy.
Even if it meant she’d be happy without me. Without us.
Even if all I could do was watch her from a distance, as she chased what she once thought was impossible.
“Nope,” I say softly, more to myself than to Gavin. “I’m just hoping she’s got enough glue left to put us back together. That’s why I need to know if the asshole’s out of the picture.”
Gavin shrugs, his tone more resigned than skeptical now. “You’ll have to ask her yourself. I’m not hiring another PI to keep tabs on Dr. Lahey. In the meantime, I’ll spin the story with that picture and get your jet ready.”
“That’s all I need,” I say, pushing myself off the couch, already heading to my room. My heart’s racing, a mix of anticipation and fear swirling inside me. I’m not leaving until she agrees to treat Santos. And maybe fix what’s left of us.
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