Page 27 of For Cowgirls and Kings
“Do tell. I’m dying to know why I should be embarrassed.” His voice is dry and bored, but I know from his coiled stance, he’s anything but.
“Oh, we were just—” I pause, struggling to get the cap off the new bottle of whiskey, and Mateo sighs, grabbing it from me and twisting it off without an ounce of exertion. Something about it pisses me off more, fueling my next words. “We were talking about all of the people we’ve kissed and who were the best.”
I fill my glass, pouring well over two shots worth, the bottle glugging the only sounds between us. We both remember that kiss—my first kiss—but to this day we’ve never acknowledged it.
He hisses, yanking the bottle away from me as the whiskey sloshes precariously close to the top of my glass. I frown; I hate being told what to do, or how much to drink.
“Anywho, I was telling them Jared was my best kiss.” I tip the cup to my lips, and my eyes to his, and take a long, burning sip. He watches me, his eyes dark but unwavering, and I take a second gulp, a third, before I relent in our little competition, dropping the glass with a gasp.
Fire pools in my stomach, thrumming through my veins with a heat that could burn a person from the inside out. And if I’m being really honest with myself, I don’t know if it’s from the whiskey or the dark eyes that still have not wavered from my face.
“Care to join the rest of us or would you like to get a room?” Stetson’s voice severs the mounting tension, and Mateo looks away first, a look of disgust crossing his features before melting once more into neutrality.
Its a punch in the fucking gut.
I turn, leaving him standing in the kitchen, and return to my chair, praying I don’t look as beat down as I feel. Stetson and Faith eye me, smiles on their faces, and brows raised at mynearly overflowing cup of whiskey. Gus, the fucking nuisance, snorts and leans forward to tap his cup against mine.
“What’s even in that cup, old man?” I tease, sitting back to take another, smaller, more careful sip. If I keep it up I won’t remember my own name for a week.
“Apple cider.” His mouth is hidden behind the cup, but I hear the smile all the same.
“Without the whiskey I’m guessing?” He doesn’t drink much, and although I don’t know why, I don’t sense that it’s a sore spot for him.
“Nah, same as my little filly.”
I make a gagging motion with my finger and tongue and Stetson scowls. “I told you not to call me that.”
“When?” Gus snorts, pulling her into his lap.
“Ugh, nevermind. Everyone, I have an announcement.” My cup pauses midair, and I suck in a deep breath. Which is a mistake because Mateo drifts past me right at that moment, and I get a large inhale of his woodsy, cinnamon smell. Which only reminds me of good whiskey and Christmas—my favorite holiday—and home.
And he’s the furthest thing I want associated with my happiest memories.
I watch Gus squeeze Stetson’s waist, and before the words even leave her lips,I know.
“We’re going to have a baby.” Her voice is timid at first, like she’s only said that sentence out loud a handful of times and she’s still not sure how to feel about it. But then she see’s Gus’s giant grin, his face nearly glowing—a weird contrast to his normal shadows—and she relaxes, beaming back at him.
I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life. And sad at the same time.
“Oh my gosh! Congratulations! It’s going to be the cutest baby alive!” Faith’s up and running over to them, arms openbefore I have a second to set my glass down. As I do, I stupidly peek a glance at Mateo, who instead of beaming at the couple we both care deeply for, is staring right at me, questions filling his eyes.
I shake my head once, and he blinks in understanding. In the next beat we’re both up, and rushing Stetson and Gus who’re already under a smothering hug from Faith, unaware of the two other bodies fighting to climb on top next.
It’s silly and immature and, as the kids say—cringy—but nothing has ever felt so right. I love these two weirdos like my family, maybe even more, because I chose them, and they chose me.
All four of them.
And the recognition of that breaks my heart in two, while stitching it back together at the same time.
“You freak, Gus! Couldn’t help but mark her permanently huh?” I giggle the words, my face smushed into Faith’s hair, my arms wrapped around Stetson and Gus’s necks, pulling them even closer together. Mateo, although a little stiff, chuckles behind me, and leans in for a quick group hug before righting himself, using my back as leverage to push himself up.
Except his hand continues to rest on my lower back even once he’s up.
And now it draws a single, small circle on the bare strip of my skin between my jeans and shirt. I close my eyes, squeezing tighter, hoping against hope that if I don’t get up, he won’t stop.
“Get off, you fucking dickheads,” Gus growls, his face still squished and the words a little garbled. “You might hurt the baby.”
Faith and I jump back, her head knocking into my nose with a sharp crack. I pause, slightly dazed, the pain white hot but fading quickly.
