Page 17 of Three Pucking Wedding Dates

“Yeah?”

“Pick me.” He lets out a slow breath. “Not Reid, or even Theo. Me.”

8

THEO

What is that?

The thumps coming from outside the door pull me from my thoughts. Setting aside the book I was reading, I take off my glasses and walk to the front door.

As I pull open the door, I’m greeted by the sight of Oakley and Charlie struggling to hold up Gray and Reid. Both of my brothers are visibly drunk, their arms slung around the shoulders of their respective supports. Their loud laughter fills the air, jarring in the otherwise quiet evening.

“Hey, Theo,” Charlie says, his voice strained under the weight of Reid. “I got a call to pick these two up. You might want to take over.” He gestures toward Oakley, who is struggling to hold Gray up.

“Thanks, Charlie,” I reply, doing my best to keep the annoyance out of my voice. I slide in next to Oakley, taking Gray’s arm from her and draping it over my own shoulders. His breath reeks of alcohol as he leans heavily against me.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” Gray slurs, the words barely coherent. Meanwhile, Reid’s incessant giggling echoes across the room.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” I tell him tersely.

Oakley’s green eyes lock onto mine, holding a mix of defiance and vulnerability—a combination that’s all too familiar when it comes to Oakley. Her wavy brown hair is slightly disheveled, framing her flushed face. It’s clear she’s had more than enough to drink herself, but she isn’t drunk, not like the two of them.

“Oakley,” I say, my voice measured despite the frustration bubbling just below the surface. “How much have you all had to drink?”

She looks at me, her gaze unwavering as she shrugs nonchalantly. “I only had two. I lost count with the two of them.” A hint of sass lingers in her words, but I can tell she’s trying to downplay the situation.

My hands clench into fists at my sides, but I force myself to remain calm. Now isn’t the time to confront her. Instead, I focus on getting Gray and Reid inside. Charlie and I manage to haul them through the door, their inebriated laughter still echoing in the air. Oakley follows close behind.

My gaze turns to Charlie once Gray and Reid are inside. “Thank you, Charlie. I’m sorry you were called so late.”

“That’s no problem.” He nods before taking his leave, closing the door after him.

“Let me help you with them,” Oakley offers, reaching out to take hold of Gray’s arm.

I shake my head, my voice cold as ice. “You’ve done enough, Oakley. You can leave now.” Her eyes widen in surprise, and fora moment, I see a flicker of hurt cross her face. But she quickly masks it, her expression turning defiant once again.

“I’m not going anywhere, Theo,” she declares. “I’m supposed to be staying here with you guys—Gray invited me. I thought it was an invite that the three of you had agreed on, but apparently I was wrong.”

“Are you out of your mind?” I snap, my frustration boiling over. “Look at them, Oakley!” Reid and Gray lean against me, their limbs heavy and uncoordinated from alcohol. “This is not the time for?—”

“Fine,” she interrupts, her voice cracking slightly. “I’ll stay out of your way while you take care of them. But I’m not leaving.” She crosses her arms defiantly, daring me to argue further.

“Stay here,” I growl, shooting her a glare before turning my attention back to my brothers. I half drag, half carry them up the stairs, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my chest that tells me things are only going to get worse from here.

Gray’s room comes first, and after I wrestle him onto his bed, he mumbles something unintelligible and promptly passes out. A small part of me envies the oblivion he’s found himself in. The door clicks shut behind me as I head toward Reid’s room, where the process repeats itself. He too finds solace in the darkness of sleep, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

“Sleep it off, both of you,” I mutter under my breath, closing the door to Reid’s room and leaning against it for a moment, trying to compose myself.

With each step back down the staircase, my anger simmers beneath the surface. Oakley’s presence, her stubborn refusal to leave, feels like a festering wound that refuses to heal. Everyglance at her reminds me of our tangled past and the fact that she’s now become entwined with my brothers too.

The hallway light casts a soft glow on Oakley’s face as I return to the living room, her green eyes full of defiance and determination. My jaw clenches involuntarily, anger bubbling beneath the surface like lava waiting to erupt.

“Here,” I say gruffly, grabbing my wallet without breaking stride and pulling out a few hundred-dollar bills. I thrust them at her, my hand shaking with barely contained rage. “Take this and find somewhere else to stay.”

Oakley stares down at the money in confusion, as if she can’t quite comprehend what I’m doing.

“What?” she asks, her voice wavering ever so slightly. “Why are you giving me this?”

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