Page 27 of Never Say Yes To Your Brother's Best Friend

“I’m going to take care of you,” I insist. “You and your family. I have lots of money. Let me do it.”

“We’ve talked about this. That’s not how I want to be taken care of. Money doesn’t make anyone happy. Obviously. Everyone says so.”

“But it can make a lot of things easier and better.”

“I had a job. And I do have a degree. I mean…well, it might not be what I truly wanted to do, but I had to do something, and business was as good as anything.”

“What did you truly want to do?”

“Play with kittens and puppies all day, write stories, sing songs, open a vintage store, antiquing, paint, travel the world, sell fancy real estate. Have my own vineyard. Garden. Maybe farm a little too. Rescue possums and porcupines because they’re just so darn cute, open a greenhouse that only sells cactuses, crochet super cute and strange little alien creatures and then sell them at craft shows, volunteer with senior citizens, plant trees, build houses, protest, make a difference, and help people.”

“I’m serious.”

She laughs. Her fork gets set down on the side of her plate. “Me too. I don’t really know what I want to do. I want to do everything, but I know I can’t just bounce around from job to job. I’m all over the place pretty often. I like to do lots of things. I like to be busy. I feel a little contained here, and I want to see everything and try everything. I live in reality, but my dreams? That’s different. I’m not like Jace that way. I know you’re thinking that.”

“I’m not.” I scowl because, honestly, I am, and I don’t like how easily she can read me.

“Jace was seriously dedicated. He joined the military when he was still seventeen, as soon as he could. He always knew what he wanted to do. But I’m not that way. I never knew what I wanted. I’ll probably still not know when I’m ninety. Is that wrong?”

I don’t know what I want either, so thank goodness she doesn’t ask me. This morning I’m lacking the usual bracing steel I layer myself in. For the past eighteen months, I’ve done nothing but ghost around here. I’m a soldier with nothing and no one to fight. Yesterday, Aspen said I wasn’t a weapon, but she was wrong. I’m still a weapon. I’m always going to be a weapon. I’m just sitting here, waiting to be used, and if I’m not used, then what am I good for?

I grunt rudely. We need a little distance between us. I need the distance. Aspen was far too close last night. That can’t happen again. And I’m still hard under the table, which also can’t happen. It shouldn’t be happening right now. Fuck.

Aspen snorts, ignoring me. “What does that mean? You’ll have to help me. I don’t speak fluent caveman.”

I’m not going to smile. I’m not. It’s not even funny.

“I’m going to clear out the rest of the furniture from the house today.” I cram three crepes into my mouth in rapid succession, chew, and then swallow. They’re still amazing, even when I’m trying not to taste them.

“Oh. That should help you sleep. Not having a bed.”

She knows. Damn it, she knows I didn’t go to bed last night. Her eyes blaze with something I can’t decode, and she looks at me like worrying about me is more than her job. Like it’s more than something that’s been forced on her.

“I’ll get a new one,” I say.

She studies me like she doesn’t believe me, but she’s more like Jace in just looks than I thought because she grunts right back at me. “Okay, Patrick McDonald. I believe you.”

Chapter ten

Aspen

Ican’t stop thinking about all the things I shouldn’t.

Like butt cheeks. Perfectly formed, muscular, amazing butt cheeks. And me, leaving my finger marks in them. In ways other than hanging off the railing.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I fell asleep easily after that visit to the park, but ever since I woke up in the morning, my body was a beastly livewire. And it was like that all day. I watched Rick moving furniture, hauling things out, and taking the house apart like a man possessed. I tried to help, but he really wouldn’t let me. Instead, I made breakfast, lunch, and dinner, went for a walk a few times, read some of the books I brought even though I couldn’t concentrate, and tried to make plans for a dubious future. Throughout the day, crews came in and out. I think there were three different ones. Two in the morning and one in the late afternoon. Right now, the house is almost totally stripped.

Maybe I can’t sleep right now because I didn’t do enough to tire myself out.

Maybe I’ve done nothing to excise the butt images from my mind, and I’m haunted. Or maybe I’m still a broken series of short-circuiting hormones.

It could be that I’m lying here wide awake because I can’t turn my mind off either. I saw those dark circles under Rick’s eyes. I saw how tired he looked with every fiber of his being. I know he’s not going to sleep tonight. Where would he? I doubt he even has a bed left. One of the crews disappeared upstairs with him and came down with a split box spring, a mattress, and a whole bunch of pieces and parts. I don’t know if there’s another bed in the house. The couch is gone. The chairs too. Other than his office furniture, I’m not sure there’s much left. I didn’t want to go poking around in rooms that weren’t meant for snooping.

I know there’s one bed left in the house.

This one.

I’ve been riding that train of thought for the past few hours as I tossed and turned, and things have gone from being a regular temperature to just about blistering hot in here.

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