Page 121 of Sweet Like Whiskey

I tug the sleeve of the flannel out from the very back of the rack. The shirt is buffalo plaid. Brown and orange. It was Otto’s—the one thing he left here, forgotten or by choice, I’m not sure which.

I let my fingers run over the fabric for a moment, trying to drum up even a hint of those feelings that used to swamp me every time I thought of my ex. But there’s nothing. No lingering regret. No anger. No pain. There’s just an empty space, a box where memories used to live. It’s aired out now, full of nothing but dust.

In my head, I close that box. Push it aside. I don’t need it anymore.

Warm arms circle me from behind, hands landing flat on my chest. Ash leans his chin over my shoulder, his palms giving me a cheeky little squeeze.

“I like finding you naked,” he says.

“I’m wearing a towel,” I point out.

One of his hands slips down, giving the edge of the towel a tug. It falls to my feet. “Naked,” he says.

I huff a laugh, letting the sleeve of the flannel go. “You get everything squared away with your new truck?”

“Edith is parked out front and happy to be here,” he answers. “She’s such a pretty red.”

“Just like Edna.”

“Mhm,” he hums, hands back on my pecs, lips pressing a quick kiss to my neck. “You were staring at that shirt for a while. Is something wrong with it?”

I let out a sigh, curling one of my hands over Ash’s wrist. “It was Otto’s.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “What do you want to do with it? Burn it? Make a pincushion?”

I snort before sobering. “I wanna let it go.”

He gives my neck another kiss. “I have an idea,” he says, bending down to grab my towel. He backs slowly toward the doorway with it in hand.

“And what would that be?” I ask, turning to watch him.

“It’s supposed to be a full moon tonight,” he says, lips lifting at the corner. “Want to make it a triple?”

It takes a second for his meaning to compute. “Ash…”

He tosses the towel over his shoulder and unbuttons his jeans. “Come on, Jack. You said that night was because of him, right? So let’s take it back. Let’s make it our own.”

My heart thumps as Ash drops his pants and underwear down to his feet. He tugs off his shirt next and then wraps the towel around his bare neck.

“Go skinny-dipping with me?”

I shake my head, even as I’m smiling. “What do you think?”

“That you’re not going to say no to me.”

“You’d be right,” I admit.

Ash grins, a big, beaming thing, as I walk toward him. He starts backing up again, naked as the day he was born.

“It’s not dark yet,” I point out, not that I think that’ll stop him.

“It will be soon,” he says, reaching the back door. He twists the handle. “Race you?”

Against all common sense, I find myself running next to Ash as we head toward the river. It’s ridiculous, beyond reckless, but neither of us cares. The grass is brittle underfoot, the occasional leaf crunching, and even though the sun has started to set, anybody looking our way would see two grown-ass men streaking across the ranch.

Ash makes it to the river first, dropping the towel and then yipping when his toes touch water. “Oh, fuck,” he says, doing a little dance that has me gasping for breath after the run we took.

I follow him in, cursing as the cool water flows up to my ankles, my knees, my cock. I cup myself on instinct as my balls try to recede into my body.

---