Page 3 of Making June Mine

“No. Not yet, but I promise you will be the first to know the minute I do.” Her eyes are full of excitement. I admire her. In love, married, and pregnant. I want that life.

“You should meet me for lunch today.”

“That sounds good. See you at twelve?”

“Yep, see ya.” Maybe the rest of the day won’t be so slow.

CHAPTER

FOUR

OWEN

I drink the beer my sister-in-law handed me a few minutes ago while I listen to my brother talk. He’s telling me about my nephew Jason’s baseball game. I missed this morning’s because the store was open. I usually can make it when they play in the afternoons.

“Mom is almost done with dinner,” Olivia says, walking past us. She doesn’t stop, and Buck doesn’t stop talking, either.

“We’ll be right in, Liv,” I call.

“So what’s been going on with you?”

“Not much. Store’s good. I’m good.”

“You ask June out yet?”

“What?” I ask, almost choking on my beer.

“We all know. You’re not exactly subtle, brother. It’s very clear you’re in love with her.”

“Shit. Does she know?” Fuck, I sound like I’m in middle school and not the thirty-two-year-old man that I am.

“She’s probably the one person in town that doesn’t know. Ava knows.” Ava is my ridiculously adorable three-year-old niece. Fuck.

“What do I do?”

“Ask her out. Have lots of sex and babies.”

“What?” I ask, stunned. I’ve never actually put my thoughts into words before.

“Come on. We have the same genes. You know you fucking want to.”

“Fine,” I say, agreeing with him. All I can think about is her round with my child, with my ring on her finger and my seed dripping from her cunt. I groan.

“You’re thinking about it right now, aren’t ya?”

“Shut up, bro,” I tell him, and he just laughs.

“It’s our greatest curse. This is exactly how I felt when I met Gina.”

“In seventh grade.”

“I didn’t know what I was feeling then, but I knew she was mine.”

“Yeah, she’s mine,” I say, taking another drink of beer. My throat is suddenly dry.

“Dad felt the same way for Mom. Gramps for Gran and so on since the beginning of time. It’s a curse.”

“It feels like a gift.”

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