Page 68 of When It's Us
“I gotta handle this,” Hank says, then looks at me, “and you—think with your big head where Ginger’s concerned, alright?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to make a joke, but I bite it back. He pisses me off—scolding me like I’m fifteen with zero control over my dick.
“Can you…” Hank turns to Hudson and nods toward Apollo, not looking at me.
Hudson pushes off the stall he’s leaned against and gives a nod. “I’ve got him.”
Hank grunts once and strides from the barn without another word, boots thudding hard against the packed dirt.
“What a dick,” I mutter, standing as I watch my older brother go.
“Can’t blame him, you’re basically a walking erection,” Hudson mutters behind me.
I turn and shoot him a look. “First of all, fuck you. And second, takes one to know one, shithead.”
“I’m just saying, we know how you are,” he says, smirking at me. “Everyoneknows how you are. Why are you getting sodefens—”
“Shut up, Hudson.” I turn and stride for the double stable doors.
“You already fucked her, didn’t you?” he calls out.
But I don’t stop because Hudson’s always been a nosy fucker and I’m over this conversation.
I can hear him groan as I leave him behind. “Jesus, Hutch. Is there anyone you won’t stick your dick into?”
Hank’s words are still ringing in my ears as I leave the barn, and Hudson’s guess that we’d already slept together only made it worse. Like he had some right to lecture me.
I stride across the yard and grab Oakley’s leash from the Vanagon. The dog jumps in like he owns the place and settles into his usual spot by the door.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I catch the faint smell ofher. It’s still here, clinging to the fabric of the seats, subtle but impossible to miss. I swallow hard as my fingers tighten on the steering wheel.
I pick up my phone, my thumb hovering over our text thread, but I can’t bring myself to type. This isn’t a casual check-in. With her, it’s more. And once I start, there’s no going back.
I let out a slow breath and close my eyes for a second, trying to shake the weight settling in my chest. Whatever this is, it’s messing with me in ways I didn’t expect.
Fuck.
Ginger
Dinnerwasdelicious,andwe’ve all effectively eaten ourselves into a food coma. Wren and Finn get up from the table, insisting that since I’m a guest, I should sit after a long day of travel. But there is no way in the world I’m letting a pregnant woman not only make my dinner but also clean up.
“You sit,” I tell Finn, directing her around the small island in Hayley’s kitchen and leading her to a stool at the counter.
Wren runs hot water into the sink, and I bring plates and serving dishes to the island where she helps me put away leftovers. Then we settle side by side at the sink while she washes, and I rinse and dry. “God, this brings back memories.” Wren laughs.
“You guys probably washed your fair share of dishes together back in college, huh?” Finn asks from where she’s perched at the counter.
“Oh, yeah. We had a schedule and everything,” I tell her with a smile over my shoulder.
“The apartment was so small, barely any counter space, so we had to do them after every meal, or it was a complete disaster,” Wren says, handing me a glass to rinse.
“Yeah, except you always left the pans for me,” I say and throw her a look, to which she laughs.
We work together in silence for a couple of moments and then Wren hip checks me. I look over at her.
“So, tell me more about those neighbors,” she says. “You never did give me all the details.” She pumps her eyebrows up and down lasciviously and Finn laughs behind us.
“That’s because you ran off to ride your cowboy,” I tease, and she laughs.
