Page 12 of Jett in Jeopardy

Pretty good didn’t come close to describing my night. Actually, I barely remembered last night, which, given the details Brody had shared, including me throwing up, I was probably better off.

This morning, on the other hand, I doubted I’d ever forget it. Despite having very publicly thrown myself at Brody for the past three years, now I found myself less than eager to share that we’d been together. That he evidently wasn’t as immune to me as I’d believed.

“It was all right,” I said, leaning a shoulder against the dark wood framing the opening between the study and the dining room. Whatever had happened with Brody felt loose and undefined, and I didn’t want to risk whatever might be starting between us by blabbing, and I definitely didn’t want unsolicited opinions before I’d even had the chance to wrap my own head around it. “When does Grier leave for work?”

“Soon. He’s upstairs getting ready now.” While Grier spent most nights in Sawyer’s room, most of his things were still in his room upstairs. “Is everything okay?”

I nodded slowly. Should I just tell Sawyer about getting fired and let him tell Grier? I could just get it over with like ripping off a band-aid. “Yeah, I just had to talk to you guys about something.”

“You’re back,” Grier said, slipping past me and into the study. His hair was still damp from the shower, and he was dressed in fitted jeans and a short-sleeved t-shirt—to make room for the cast on his right arm—his usual attire for working at the cafe in The Square. Grier was right-handed, and he’d struggled when the cast first went on. Now, nearly a month later, he’d become adept at using his right hand despite the limited range of motion. “You didn’t park behind me, did you?”

I shook my head. “There’s something I need to tell you both. It won’t take long,” I told Grier. I knew he didn’t like to be late for work… or anything else.

A sentiment we had never shared, which probably explained why he’d been working for Lana and Bailey since the first year, and I’d been fired… again.

Not this time. You did nothing wrong.

Sawyer leaned back in his chair and frowned. Grier, standing next to Sawyer, looked at me, concern etched into his expression.

“I got fired,” I blurted out, finally, then quickly added, “I’ll be fine. I’m sure I’ll find something else, and if it takes me a little longer, I’ll ask my dad for money. I’ll make sure I keep up with my share of things.”

I never had any issue getting money from my father. He was happy to send money if it meant he didn’t have to deal with me directly, almost as if he was paying me to stay out of his life—which made me want to take his money even less. Still, desperate times…

Grier’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Shit, I thought something was really wrong. Don’t worry about it. We can cover you until you find something else.”

I knew Grier was being nice, but part of me wished he’d looked more surprised. In his defense, it wasn’t as if it hadn’t happened before—and more than once.

“Yeah,” Sawyer said. “Not a big deal. I’m sure you’ll find something in no time. A lot of places are hiring for Christmas.”

I must have been tired. My throat felt tight all of a sudden, and I wanted to climb into my bed and pull the covers over my head.

“Thanks for understanding,” I managed to croak out around the lump in my throat.

Grier was frowning again, his gaze narrowing on me as if it were trying to burrow inside my brain. “Are you okay?”

“Of course. I’m just tired. I’m going to have a shower, then get some sleep. Have a good day at work.” I turned away from the study and hurried upstairs, not giving either of them the chance to ask me anything else or to try to say something encouraging.

Once in the bathroom with the shower running and while I waited for the water to heat, I dropped onto the closed toilet seat and buried my face in my hands.

What the hell was wrong with me? Why was I so upset? Grier and Sawyer had been nothing but supportive. They hadn’t even been mad. But I already knew the answer. I think a part of me almost wished they’d been angry or concerned. Something besides resignation, like they’d been expecting me to lose my job all along, and it had just been a matter of when. Hell, neither of them had even asked why I’d been fired. They’d probably just assumed I’d flaked one too many times.

Who could blame them for thinking that?

With a sigh, I stood, pulled off last night’s clothes and stepped under the shower’s hot spray. I washed quickly, but when I turned my back to the shower head to wet my hair, the hot water hit my ass, making my skin sting the same way it did when I took a shower with a sunburn.

My erection, which had flagged while talking about my work situation, shot to attention. I wrapped my hand around my length and started to stroke.

Only good boys come.

The memory of Brody’s words, little more than a deep rumble murmured against my ear, made me shiver, goosebumps prickling my skin despite the warm water pouring over me.

I could come, I thought, lazily stroking myself. There was no real reasonnotto get myself off, and yet some part of me didn’t want to. I wanted to come with Brody’s big body pressed against my back, his hand grasping my cock and jerking me to completion.

With a low groan, I let go of myself and focused on washing my hair. When I stepped out of the tub, I was down to half-mast, and the little voice in my head told me how stupid I was playing this game alone. After all, there was no guarantee that I would even see Brody again outside of him serving me drinks at The Dunes, let alone him fucking me. But he wanted me, I and god knew I wanted him. So, the odds were better than they’d ever been before.

After toweling myself dry, I went to my room and pulled on fresh clothes—no easy feat, either. I needed to do my laundry badly. Hell, I needed to clean my entire room. Between the piles of dirty clothes, stacks of books, crumpled paper and old takeout bags, I couldn’t see my floor.

When we’d first moved in here, I’d been convinced the house was haunted. Knowing Oliver Mackenzie had died in this house, combined with the way the floors creaked sometimes at night and that my things kept disappearing from my room, I’d been certain Mackenzie’s ghost was lingering under our roof.

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