Page 69 of Beyond the Stroke

Logan’s still standing there, one hand on his phone, the other clutching his chest in mock disbelief, his dick swinging in the breeze like he’s got nowhere to be.

“Bro, put some clothes on.” Charlie groans. “Your flaccid dick is way too close to me.”

“Don’t be insecure, man. Everyone’s built different. It’s not the size; it’s how you use it.”

Eli shakes his head. “You were that kid at the beach in a shirt and no pants, weren’t you?”

“We spend so much time with our junk in wet Lycra, is it so wrong to want to air everything out?” Logan counters.

I tune out Logan’s naked logic and turn to Eli.

“Where’ve you been?” I ask.

“I stopped by the physician’s office to check on Winnie.”

“What’s going on?” Logan asks, suddenly serious. A rare shift from his usual absurdity.

“Last night I had dinner with Winnie and the guy she’s dating.”

“What guy?” Logan frowns. “I thought she was taking a break from dating after Brett, the narcissistic anesthesiologist?”

“They met online. He’s a pilot.”

“What’s the verdict?” I ask.

Eli and I have bonded over being protective older brothers—trying not to meddle too much, but still wanting to keep our sisters safe. I’ve been lucky. Whitney’s too focused on school and swimming to date anyone seriously.

Eli shakes his head. “I don’t like him. Gives me weird vibes. But she says he’s great so what am I supposed to do?”

“We could threaten him,” Logan suggests, eyes lighting up. “Tell him he can never see her again.”

I squeeze Eli’s shoulder. “I think we let Winnie live her life, but monitor the situation.”

Eli chuckles half-heartedly. “Says the lucky asshole whose sister never has boyfriend drama.”

Charlie’s palm finds Eli’s other shoulder. “We all love Winnie like a sister, so we’ll make sure he treats her right.”

“I got it!” Logan says. “We put a tracker on his car. One misstep and he’s swimming with the fishes.”

“Thanks, guys.” Eli strips off his shirt and tosses it in his locker. Then, he points to Logan. “You need to stop reading those mafia romances.”

Logan’s grin fades. “You’ll have to pry them from my cold, dead hands.”

“Now, can we please talk about the fact that Rory’s getting married tomorrow?” Charlie says, pointing at me. “Do we even know this chick?”

“Watch it,” I warn, my blood spiking at his tone. “Her name is Summer and she’s going to be my wife.”

“That’s what I’m saying. You’re marrying someone none of us know.”

“I know her,” Logan says, finally pulling on his jammer. “She’s a waitress at The Salty Pirate.”

“C’mon, Cap.” Charlie urges. “There’s more to this story.”

He’s not wrong. I was still on a high from the way Summer had shown up for me. The way she confidently claimed me as hers. I liked it because for once I knew it wasn’t someone doing it for their own benefit. She had done it for me.

But when I woke up this morning, the relief of Summer saying yes had shifted into something else.

Disappointment.

---