Page 139 of When It's Us
I throw an arm over my face to shield my eyes as my bed jiggles three times, each punctuated by Hayley’s irritated grunts.
“Whatisthat?” She doesn’t give me any time to respond before she’s yelling at me again, her voice demanding and more than a little disgusted. “It smells like asshole and self-pity in here.”
“Fuck off,” I grumble.
I do not need this shit. Not after a night spent alone playing a little game I like to callHow Drunk Can Hutch Get,before finally passing out around three a.m.
“No.”
“How did you get in here?” I mumble.
“Uhh, the door was unlocked?” She barks the words out like a question, and even though I don’t lift my arm to look, I can hear her rifling through stuff across the room. “Is that mold?” Her voice moves closer, and she pokes my bare shoulder with a finger. “You’re growing goddamnmold,Hutch.”
I lift my arm and, with my eyes still clamped shut, I grope around blindly for a pillow. A half second later, I’m crammingit over my face, my voice coming out muffled when I speak. “Go away, Hayley.”
“No,” she barks out again, trying to wrestle the pillow away from me, growling like a baby jackal.
I grapple for the upper hand, swatting at her with my free arm. She finally relents, breathing hard.
“God, youstink,” she says, shoving her hand into the pillow covering my face. “Is that why Ginger won’t talk about you? Because your smell makes her eyes burn when you’re together, and she’s realized she could never live in your filth?”
I go still at Ginger’s name, and after a couple of beats, I lift the pillow—fractionally—and ask, “Have you talked to her?”
I know my voice probably sounds pathetic as fuck, but if the shoe fits.
“Yes, I talked to her,” she says, annoyance lacing every word.
I can’t see her face, but I imagine she’s looking at me like I’m an idiot. And she would be right. Iaman idiot.
“Only she won’t tell me anything and Wren and Finn aren’t talking either, so WhatThe. Fuck.Did you do?” She hits me with another pillow.
Obviously, it doesn’t hurt, but shit, she’s annoying.
Again, she doesn’t give me time to respond, not that I would know what to say even if she did. I already feel like shit. And hashing it out with my little sister isn’t going to change what is.
“This isexactlywhy I told you to be careful with her.Careful, Hutch.” She pauses to growl at me in frustration. “God, why are some men so fucking stupid?” she huffs under her breath, then, “Will you tell me why she’s mad at you?”
“No.” I’ve never been the feelings brother. That’s Hudson. I’m not—usually—a grumpy fuck like Hank, but right now I can honestly see the appeal.
“Hutch—" She trails off, probably realizing she isn’t going to get anywhere with me.
Fucking finally.
I sigh, letting out a long breath. “Just go,” I say, barely above a whisper. In fact, I’m surprised she heard me through the pillow still covering my face, my arm banded across it. “Please.”
“Will you at least tell me ifyou’reokay?” she asks softly, sounding on the verge of tears.
I’m not. Far from it. But if it gets her to leave…
“I’mfine, Hales.”
“Okay,” she says, sighing in defeat. “But I’m worried about her,” she hesitates before adding, “and you.” Another sigh. “Never mind.”
I hear her pad away and her feet on the stairs leading to the workshop below.
Why the hell is she so upset? I mean, yeah, I’m her brother, and Ginger is her friend, but hell, the theatrics are a bit much.
I lift the pillow, let out a long whoosh of air, and immediately squint. Ugh, she could have at least turned off the light. Grunting, I toss the pillow aside and throw back the blankets. Before I even swing my legs over the edge of the bed, I hear muffled voices from downstairs.
