Then I review our numbers until my eyes cross on the lines of the spreadsheet. I check the time.
She’s got to be asleep by now. No risk of late-night chatter in the room we’re sharing.
Now that Lane has moved to the tower, I suppose Willow and I could spread out if we wanted to. We’d maintain the appearance of sharing a bedroom, but with no one to snoop around at night, I could crash in a guest room and get a decent night’s sleep in a real bed.And not hear her breathe? Not feel her stir with the first ray of sunlight?
I’ll take the couch any time.
When I get upstairs, I find Willow curled up on the couch again.Stubborn.
Bathed in moonlight, her silver shape moves to the rhythm of her soft breathing.
I take a moment to admire her lips puffed up from sleep, the lock of dark hair curling on her cheek, her eyelids fluttering as she dreams. She’s absolute perfection, asleep just as much as when she’s awake.
Sliding my hands carefully under her frame, I carry her where she belongs. In my large, fluffy bed. Then I tuck her in, leaving quickly for the bathroom. She stirs but doesn’t wake up.Good.
Because for the next… how many months this needs to go on for, no way in hell is she sleeping on the couch.
I slide under the light blanket still warm from her body and try to fall asleep, but her smell and the sound of her breathing just paces from me give me a raging hard-on that’s not conducive to even dozing off. I fight it by thinking about my endless to-do list, then my thoughts drift to Griff, a mix of longing, resentment, and envy taking hold.
Griff made his life in Boston long before Dad died, for no reason I could understand other than he liked a big city better than our small town. It still stung when after Dad’s funeral, overmaybe too much whiskey, he said that he’d understand and even support me if I wanted to sell everything. I might have said things I now regret. He might have told me to get lost. It’s all a little blurry now. All I know is I miss him, and I hardly saw him at Colt’s wedding.
I should call him.
And Lane. Shouldn’t she be back by now? Who is this guy she went out with? We only have a first name, which may or may not be real, and a picture. Thank god for Willow’s quick thinking.
Lane wants to go live in New York City. A dozen scenarios of how bad that could end runs through my mind. But at least if Lane is away, I won’t see her going out. I won’t need to worry in real time, like I used to with Beck.
Beck.He’s turned his life around. No more calls to pick him up at the police station. No more mandated community service. Doesn’t mean I don’t worry about him. I always will. I need to talk to him about the landscaping business. See how many new clients we could get with a couple more guys and equipment. I start running the numbers in my head, until sleep seizes me at dawn.
“It’s community dinner tonight,” I tell Beck when he barges into the kitchen the next morning, his hair a riot, wearing nothing but low-hanging jeans.
“Cool,” he answers.
He’s irritating me. I’m running on two hours of sleep, three at best; I can’t deal with him this morning. “Would you mind wearing a shirt?”
He snaps his head up, eyelids heavy, looking utterly relaxed. He gives me his lazy smile. Is there a girl in his studio apartmentabove the barn? “Sure,” he says as he exits through the kitchen door.
There’s totally a girl in his bed right fucking now. I know I’m in the wrong, but I totally hate him for the sex look on his face. It’s just unfair.
He comes right back wearing a jean jacket with shiny things on it. The thing is so small it constricts his shoulders, stops above his belly button, and there’s no chance in hell he can close it.
I know this is a redirection on his part, and it’s a job well done. Now I need to be the big fucking brother again. This trap is so old. “Is this Lane’s?” I ask in my inquisitive pseudo-parent voice.
He shrugs. “Think so. Found it outside. There was a guy’s jacket, too, but eh… didn’t wanna wear some random dude’s shit.” Oh yeah, total redirection. Beck knows I’ll always fall for protecting his Irish twin, aka being on her case rather than on his.
He busies himself making two coffees. Which means he’ll be gone in thirty seconds. Which reminds me, I need to bring Willow a coffee.
The left side of my skull starts pounding. “Are you telling me…” I’m having trouble processing that Lane might have had someone overnight . Should I put this into words? If I don’t say it out loud, did it really happen?
Beck takes the two coffees and hands me one. “You look like you could use this.”
I take the hot cup absentmindedly and resume my train of thought. Did my sister bring a random stranger in our house to…? How did I not hear a thing? What would I have done if I’d heard anything? Holy shit. At least when they were teenagers I could have rules. Now? Forget it.
I decide to turn my attention back to Beck. Easier. Nursing his coffee, he’s looking out the kitchen window, toward the garden and the barn. Why is he still here?
“Is there someone in the barn I should know about?” Proud of myself for not letting him off the hook.
“Not that you should know about, and not for long.” He cranes his neck. “Yep, there she goes.”
