Page 90 of When It's Us
“You don’t have to,” I tell her, irritation growing in my gut. “It’s really none of your business, anyway.” I stand up, crossing the kitchen to leave.
Her chuckle is dry and brittle. “If I can hearyoursex noises throughmywalls, it kind of is my business.”
I shrug again. “Fine, it won’t happen again.”
There’s that humorless laugh again, and it grates on my nerves. “Yeah, I’m sure it won’t.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I ask. I know I should lower my voice, but I can’t. I’m too irritated by her dismissive tone.
I know I live a life that my siblings disagree with, and yeah, I sleep with a lot of women. But it fucking stings to hear that she—thatthey all—probably feel this way about me. Having the townies talk is one thing, but it’s another when it’s your own family.
Hayley rolls her eyes. “You’re not one for repeats.”
I shove a hand through my hair, feeling defensive. “This is different. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Hayley steps closer to me, flicking a glance at the stairs before she goes on in a loud whisper, her eyes blazing. “You know as well as I do that you’re going to leave this house and never hook up with her again. You’ll ghost her. Just like you do everyone else you sleep with.”
I shake my head, but she holds up a hand. “She’s not some random tourist, Hutch. She’s a friend. And Wren’sbestfriend, who also happens to be our sister-in-law, which practically makes Ginger family, too.”
“Oh, that’s bullshit,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “And for your information, we’ve already hooked up more than once.”
Hayley’s eyes widen a fraction, and some tension leaves her posture at my words. I probably shouldn’t have said anything, given that Ginger wants to keep whatever this is under wraps, but I’ll be damned if I stand here and let Hayley believe something that isn’t true.
Whether she believes me or not, she is right about one thing. Gingerisdifferent. Yeah, we’re not in a relationship, but I’d neverpurposely hurt her. I’ve gotten to know her too much to feel right about that, and it’s not like she and I aren’t on the same page with what we’re doing.
Hayley narrows her eyes at me. “So what? You’re friends with benefits or something?”
I shake my head, turning to leave. “You know what, Hales, I’m not doing this.”
“You better not hurt her,” she warns.
I stop, turning back to her, defensiveness bunching my shoulders. “Why would I do that?”
She shakes her head, opening the fridge to pull out the creamer, voice matter-of-fact. “Because you’re you. You avoid relationships like it’s your damn job, Hutch.” She slams the fridge and yanks open a drawer, pulling out a spoon.
I stare at her, her words landing like a punch to the gut. Is she right? Am I incapable ofnothurting someone? My gut twists, hot and hollow.
Ilikehanging out with Ginger, and the sex is incredible but that’s all it is. All it will be. Because maybe on some level, Hales is right. Maybe I am too fucked up to ever have anything lasting.
I open my mouth to speak, but Hayley jabs the spoon in my direction. “I’m just saying, you hurt her, and you’re gonna have every Hayes woman in this county lining up to chop off your dangly bits.”
“Jesus Christ, dramatic much?” I mutter and scrub a hand over my face. It’s too fucking early for a dressing down from my baby sister.
She eyes me for a few beats before she crosses the distance between us to poke me in the chest with a pointy finger.
“God, you really are dense.” She purses her lips. “Just…be a decent guy and don’t fuck her over, Hutch.”
I work to swallow over the lump in my throat.
“Are you hearing me?” Hales asks, glaring up at me.
“Yes, I hear you. How can I not when you’re screeching at me?”
She eyes me for another couple of seconds but seems satisfied, because she goes back to making her coffee. She wrinkles up her nose and casts me a side eye. “Get out of here. Go shower. You smell like sex.”
By the time I get back to my place, it’s after six, and Oakley is whining when I open the door. I’ve got the beginnings of a headache, so I grab some Tylenol and wash it down with a bottle of water, then fill up Oaks’ food and water dish before climbing in the shower.
Once I’m dressed, I throw together a quick breakfast sandwich and eat at my cluttered desk while I return an email or two. I’ve got a couple of job sites I need to check on before heading back over to Hales’ house, so I throw on my boots, not bothering to tie them, grab the lunch I packed, give a whistle for Oakley, and then climb back into my truck.
