I shrugged, cheeks burning. “Only if it’s working. So is it?”
For a second, his face was unreadable. Then he let out a huff and shook his head, a grudging laugh spilling out. “You’re a goddamn mess. Used to getting your way too, I can tell.”
“But is it working?”
He rolled his eyes. “No.”
Oh.
“But I’ll let you buy me a drink tonight to make up for being a fucking ass.”
I grinned and stuck out my hand. “Deal.”
He took it.
The shake should’ve been quick. Just a friendly seal on a truce. But neither of us let go right away. His palm was rough, warm. Solid. My fingers curled a little tighter. His didn’t move. We stood there like that, still clasped, still watching each other, the space between us thickening with something unspoken.
Longer than acceptable. Longer than straight.
I tilted my head. “You sure this isn’t doing it for you?”
Hudson huffed out a laugh, but he broke the contact fast and turned on his heel. “Fuck off,” he tossed over his shoulder.
But his ears were red.
A horn blared behind me, snapping me out of my daze. I hadn’t realized I’d slowed nearly to a stop in the middle of the road.
I pressed the gas again, jerking the truck forward, swallowing the lump in my throat.
What was I even doing?
I wasn’t going to stop. I wasn’t going to knock on his door, see if the porch light meant he was still awake. This wasn’t that story anymore.
And I wasn’t that kid, running breathlessly across a field for someone who would never be faithful.
I pressed harder on the gas and drove away, headlightsslicing through the dark, rain hammering against the windshield like it had something to say I had no interest in hearing.
3
HUDSON
Mornings always started slowly with Ivy. I was up before the sun, feet hitting cold floor, brain already running through everything that needed to be done before I went to work. I relieved my bladder, then poked my head into Ivy’s bedroom, a modest space that could only fit her princess bed, a chest of drawers, and the bookcase with all the books on mermaids that I could afford to buy. Ivy had a fascination with everything underwater.
She was still fast asleep, tangled in her Flounder blanket, her brown hair fanned out on the pillow, and her well-loved stuffed bear clutched to her chest. Tumbles had soft, matted fur that had once been a warm buttery brown but now carried the faded gray of too many washes and too much love. One ear drooped a little lower than the other, and the stitching along his belly had begun to fray. His left paw had a little embroidered heart, pale pink and barely holding on, and near the back seam was a small satin tag that Ivy always rubbed between her fingers when she was tired or upset.
A soft snore drifted from the room, and an ache formed in my chest. Last night had been rough. When she’d asked questions about when Mama was coming home, I hadn’t known how to answer. I’d shut down her questions the only way I knew how. Blanket fort. Snacks on the rug. A flashlight under the chin. Our own little slumber party in the middle of the living room.
Now the place looked like a tornado had come through. I hadn’t had the energy to clean it up after bringing her to bed last night.
Leaving her bedroom door ajar, I made my way to the living room. I stepped over a crumbled cracker, picked up her sippy cup from under the couch, and tidied up around the remnants of our camp-out. Toys everywhere. The corner by the window still smelled faintly of damp, a leak I’d had to patch in the middle of the night. Water had dripped steadily through a crack in the roof, soaking the carpet and leaving a bubble in the paint. I needed to fix the damn roof. But when you were running on fumes, a tight budget, and a wife who emptied your bank account, priorities got shuffled. I did what I could. What I had to. Always.
My back still ached from the long hours I’d been putting in on the ranch because every day Matty’s prejudice against me grew, and I couldn’t give him a reason to fire me. So I worked twice as hard to shut him up.
He could be such a fucking asshole. He was hard to recognize as the nineteen-year-old who’d pursued me hard. At twenty-five, I should have known better and shut him down, but it’d been flattering the way he’d come on to me with his whole chest.
For fuck’s sake, he’d changed my perception as to what my role was when I was with another man. He’d poured care and time into showing me why I was a perfect bottomfor him, and after a few times, I’d become desperate to feel him inside me. It didn’t help that he had the perfect cock. Not too long, but damn, its girth…
There was just something different about lying under Matty, watching the muscles in his arms flex as he held himself above me, eyes dark with want, lips swollen from kissing me like I mattered. Like I wasn’t just a quick fuck or a summer mistake, but something worth chasing. He’d made me feel wanted in a way that went deeper than lust.
