Dean blinked, not quite understanding. "Sick how?" Rosie pressed a hand to her chest. Pain flared beneath her palm. Sharp now. Wrong. "I'm sick," she repeated. Dean stepped forward immediately. "Okay. I'll take you home. You'll feel better tomorrow." The gentleness in his voice broke her. "No, Dean." Her knees weakened. Beau caught her elbow. "Rosie." She looked at them both through tears. For weeks, she had imagined telling them. Not like this. Never like this. Not in a bar with music pounding and her heart beating irregularly in her chest. UNDER EDITING! Dean Di Laurentis x Oc x Beau Maxwell (Poly) "Jesus, all three of you need a cold shower." -Dexter