Page 112 of Sweet Like Whiskey

“Not all that good,” I assure him, knowing the thoughts I’m having about Ash are far from virtuous.

He smirks, as if he knows as much, but a series of loud knocks on the back door interrupts us.

“You guys coming?” Colton calls, voice muffled through the wood. “If you’re fucking, hurry up and finish.”

“Jesus goddamn Christ,” I grumble loudly. “I’m gonna disown ’em. All of ’em.”

Ash only laughs. “Coming,” he calls. And then, to me, he says, “Jack? For the record, you’re wrong. You’resovery good. And I’ll let you prove it to me later.”

Before I can come up withanythingto say to that, Ash smacks a kiss against my lips and heads for the back door.

Fucking hell.

Taking a breath, I follow him.

My brothers are settled around the bonfire when Ash and I get outside. Colton has a bag of jumbo-sized marshmallows on his lap, and he’s loading four of them onto a stick. Remi is leaned back in his Adirondack chair, legs crossed in front of him.Lawson is gazing out into the night, pensive, as he’s been ever since Laura asked for a divorce. It’s cool tonight, but between the fire and our coats, no one seems to mind.

Ash doesn’t bother with his own chair. He waits until I’m settled in mine and then claims the spot between my legs. With one foot kicked up on the slanted wooden stool in front of us, he leans his back to my chest, utterly relaxed like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. I wrap an arm around his stomach.

“So,” Colton says, missing casual by a mile. “What’s been going on with everyone? Law?”

“Hm?” our older brother says.

“How’s, uh, your classes at the school?” Colton says, wincing slightly.

Lord.

Remi shakes his head.

“Fine,” Lawson answers before taking a sip from his whiskey tin.

Colton looks around for help.

“Wendy doing okay?” I ask.

“Mhm,” Lawson hums. And that’s it.

Colton stuffs a giant marshmallow in his mouth.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Remi says, sitting forward. “Law, areyoudoing okay? We’re worried about you.”

“Me?” Lawson says, sounding genuinely perplexed. “Why?”

“Because you seem…” Remi trails off, looking to me.

“Not yourself,” I finish.

Ash gives my leg a squeeze.

Lawson is quiet for a moment, looking at the fire. “I am myself. Just…a little sadder than usual, I guess.”

Remi and I exchange another look.

“Anything we can do to help?” I ask.

“Don’t think so,” our oldest brother says. “I think it’s okay to be sad sometimes, you know? I don’t want to rush through it just so I can avoid feeling this way.”

No one quite knows what to say to that, least of all myself. I’ve never been particularly good about broadcasting my feelings, but Lawson has never had that issue. He’s always been open about his emotions in a way I used to think naive.

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