CHAPTER 31

Two Years Ago—Read My Mind

Charis: I'm thinking about getting an espresso machine. What do you think?

Asher: Don't do it. Dumb idea. Look over there, see that? That's a coffee shop right across the street from you.

Charis: Wait, wait, dumb idea? How can you even say that?

Asher: I thought you wanted my input.

Charis: I do. Obviously I want you to say yes, you should get an espresso machine, brilliant idea. That's the input I want, duh.

Asher: Then say so next time. I'm not a mind reader. How am I supposed to know "what do you think" translates to "tell me what I want to hear?"

Charis: All right, fair enough, I guess I can do that. Should I really get an espresso machine, though? I mean really?

Asher: This is a trap, right?

Charis: You need to tell me yes! The right answer is yes!

Asher: Get yourself an espresso machine, Sloane.

Charis: Asher, that is the most beautiful thing anybody has ever said to me and I think I love you.

Asher: No more whiskey sours for you, woman.

Charis

I SQUEALED "GOTTA GO" AND slipped away as Hunt exchanged was-it-something-I-said looks with Nate.

Then I crept away to the only secluded, unoccupied nook in Winnow's little house, a dark room at the end of the hallway guarded by a disturbing painting of a granny boot gushing with blood. I huddled there with my phone until she found me ten minutes later.

"Cubbins!"

"Melly Belly!"

My nickname derives from my funky hats, hers from her love of smores. Not that it's important. But just so you don't think we're cutesy or anything.

I mean, we're close, don't get me wrong. We were, anyway, way back when. These days, what with her family and the distance, we mostly just follow each other's social media posts.

Mel's husband was with her, holding the baby, and their little dude, too. I sprang up and hugged them, tickling the baby's soft wisps of hair and laughing at Esteban's funny stories about the world of a defense trial lawyer until Mel shooed them away.

She's like her brother. She doesn't waste any time.

"All right, who the hell," she demanded, taking a swallow of her drink, "is anorak woman? Nobody will tell me. Karl knows. I know he knows. But he's just all, smile, smile, ignore me like I'm not there."

I shrugged and buried my face in my phone.

"You know something," Mel said instantly.

"Uh, yeah," I said, as if I wasn't paying attention. "But it's, um, private. You know, confidential."

"Hmm." Mel slowly looked me up and down. "Wowza, girl, what's happened to you since the last time I saw you? You need an adult filter for those boobs."

I contemplated my well-nippled chest. "Tough. I wasn't exactly there when they were installed."

Mel's eyes widened. "I see. Where'd you get the dress?"

"Some fancy shop."

"Who was with you when you bought it?"

I hesitated. "Asher."

She nodded smugly, as if I'd proved some point. "Soooooo, tell me…who'd you come with today?"

"Who'd I come with? Ah, actually, Ash. It was Asher. We drove in a car." Why was she torturing me with this stuff?

"Uh-huh." She pursed her mouth. "All right, spill the gossip. Why'd he break up with Aura? And I don't buy that bull about her doing it. She'd never leave him if it was up to her."

"Ask him yourself," I evaded.

"I already tried, on the phone. I told him he was making a big mistake and he should apologize to Aura, but the twerp didn't take the bait."

Sometimes Mel mystified me. "What bait?"

"Come on, he finally gets the balls to break up with Aura and I'm not supposed to wonder why? But he just brushed me off. He won't tell me anything, but you…I was friends with you first so I get First Loyalty. Tell me all."

I shook my head. "Nope, uh-uh, that's not how it works. You can't make me talk."

I forgot that you don't dare a Norrell.

"Oh, yeah?" Mel gulped down the last of her drink, set down the cup, and clutched my hair.

I slapped her away. "Quit it! I've taken an oath of silence!"

I'm proud to say I prevailed in the end. She's become a real wimp since the baby. Defeated on her keester, she slumped against the wall, straightened her bra straps, and rested her head on my shoulder. I wrapped my arm around her. I really do get why dudes go for hourglass figures; Mel is super nice and soft to lean against.

"Damn, and here I was hoping you puppies would finally see sense," she sighed.

My comfortable feelings vanished. I turned my head to look at her. "What was that?"

"You guys. You and Asher. We all were hoping." She sighed again. "But I guess we got it wrong."

Now it was established that I hadn't misheard, my heart did stop for a moment.

"Wait, what do you mean, me and Asher? What were you hoping?"

She bumped me. "You know."

"No, I'm sorry, I truly don't know."

"Oh, well, naturally I always assumed the reason you two never started anything was that you were waiting for Asher to grow up. And so, when he told me he and Aura were through and then he started asking about you, well, then, naturally I assumed…you know…"

"Started anything." I was dumbstruck. Or I think I mean parrot-struck. "Started anything."

"Yeah, you know." She wiggled her brows, rather like Hunt had earlier.

"Mel, you always said Asher's the equivalent of my brother."

"Girl, of course I said that. Mama would have banned you from the house if she caught you looking at him sideways."

"Yes, all right, okay, but when we were older—"

"Oh, that was just the ick factor talking. My friend and my brother? Gross. And besides, you obviously couldn't deal. But come on, we're all grownups now and we both know what that boy can do. Don't tell me you don't want his mega—"

"Ew, stop, stop, don't talk about him that way!"

"Am I wrong? Am I wrong? Am I wrong?"

I gave her my best shot at a cool look. But she was giving me her hard, penetrating stare, the one I really hated that was just like her mother's stare but without Erica's overlaying sweetness.

"Come clean with Mama Mel. You want my little brother. You want him bad. You wantimwantimwantimwantim—"

I covered her mouth with my hand. "Dammit, Mel, what if I did, huh? Would you seriously give me your blessing? Would Erica and Alfred? Huh? I was his babysitter! I remember getting smooched on their sofa by a sophomore while Ash and his buddies were outside with water pistols! You all trust me to take care of him. Like—like family, not like—like—you know!"

She blinked at me.

But I wasn't done. "I mean if I did happen to want him like you say or be, like, well, crazy in love with him—just hypothetically, I mean—like, insanely, helplessly in love with him—what good would it even do? Tell me that!"

A minute of silence while the noise from the room barely penetrated, I was straining so hard to listen for her answer.

She sighed loudly and wiped her hands. "Welp, that's it, then."

"What? What's it?"

"We had it wrong, we had it way, way wrong."

"What do you mean? I mean—what do you mean? Who had it wrong?"

She hoisted herself up, dusting off her pants. "The family. All of us, Doug, Winnow, Ry, Mom, Dad…hell, probably even Karl's been wondering when you guys would finally hook up. It's so obvious. But I guess we were all imagining things."

I gaped at her, wordless.

Mel shook her head sadly. "I see now we had it totally backwards. You weren't waiting for him to grow up at all. No, I do believe it was Asher who was waiting for you to grow up. I guess he'll be waiting forever. Because if you think all that counts is what we think…I guess I never realized what a wimp you were, way too wimpy for my brother, for sure…"

Then she sauntered away, the wench…leaving me biting my lip so hard it bled.

Asher

I SHUT THE DOOR BEHIND ME. "Slipping out" doesn't apply when a female is giggling and clutching at one of your belt loops while you make your escape. But yeah, I finally freed myself like Han Solo out of that garbage compactor.

Turns out Stage One is still a minor issue. Winnow hadn't lied. She'd filled the room with a smörgåsbord of luscious ladies. I'd like to say I was bored and unaffected, my cock a blasé thing of indifference.

However, some things you're powerless to prevent. Dad tipped me off way back about the spread the seed, spread it wide primal instincts that'll fuck up a dude's life.

The lesson was essentially this: Suck it up, buddy, because hard dicks don't hurt as bad as watching your woman cry. It was largely thanks to such advice that I never strayed from Aura.

A number of the babes in the room I'd just left were in varying stages of undress. I'm not the guy who stares at tits in a strip club with his tongue hanging out. But if a sexy woman flirts with me, if I can smell her, my cock does recognize the invitation. Pretty much always.

Yet I didn't flirt. I comported myself like a goddamn monk, playing pool, chatting with my cousins and and letting the rest go right over my head.

You want the truth? I might have left that room semi-hard, but I didn't actually want to fuck any of them.

Because my mind wasn't even in the room. It was set on hunting down Sloane. As women were tossing off their skirts, my mind was wandering. I saw myself sitting Sloane on my lap and whispering dirty things in her ear. I'd lift up her dress and fuck her fast and hard until she yelled. And right at the peak of her orgasm, I'd whisper the joke one of my cousins had just told me:

What does Farmer Joe do when he can't decide whether to plow a blonde or a brunette? Answer: He gets the combine.

On second thought, maybe I wouldn't tell her that one.

Although the resultant wrestle might end well.

On third thought, no. Because as I walked down the little hall and faced the room where everybody was gathered, I observed shit hitting the fan.