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“Only to someone who knows you as well as I do.” He takes a drink of his own longneck before remarking, “Of course, it might be because the chick didn’t notice the mark on your neck. Got yourself some while you were in Seven Virtues?”
I’d just taken another slug of beer and—fortunately for my older brother—twist my head before the spray of it flies out of my mouth. Pulling from the roll of paper towels Ralph keeps on his beat-up tables in lieu of wasting money on something as classy as napkins, I wipe up my mess when I grit out, “Christ, Jess.”
He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Just making an observation, brother.”
“How about not doing it when I have a mouth full?”
He smirks. “Seems to me you likely had your mouth full plenty recently.”
“Watch what you say,” I warn, an undercurrent in my tone that brooks no arguments. I won’t let my brother demean Fallon in any way.
“So, she’s someone special?”
You have no fucking idea. I shrug, trying to pull off nonchalant.
And apparently failing miserably when Jesse counters with, “You’re so full of shit, it reeks from this side of the table.”
“Jess—” I begin.
“What?” he questions, confused. “You’ve never not shared about a woman with me. I mean, it’s not like you fucked our Fallon.”
I avoid his eyes, concentrating instead on peeling the label back from my dark ale.
“Ethan, tell me you didn’t.”
I decide silence is the best answer but in my head, I’m shouting to myself, It wasn’t just fucking. It can’t be something as dismissive as that when your heart’s involved.
Jesse’s sigh is so enormous you can hear it over the rodeo competition on the big screen. “Tell me you wouldn’t be stupid enough to do something like that.”
“What would make Fallon and me—two consenting adults—coming together stupid?” I question. Then I hasten to add, “Not that I’m admitting to anything, mind you.”
“Right.” He drawls the word out long enough to extend it into next week. Then he hits me with a few hard truths that have lived in my head for years—preventing me from taking what’s mine years ago. “Maybe it’s the fact you’re old enough to be her father? Or the fact she’s our niece’s best friend?”
I wince, knowing both to be true.
“Let’s not forget she’s about to take her first baby steps in life and we’re about to teeter into retirement?”
“Speak for yourself, old man,” I retort.
His smile is smug and I want to throw a punch across the table to wipe it off his face. “What?”
“You didn’t deny it was Fallon.”
Crap. Crap and triple crap. I meet his gaze head-on and find concern and love but not what I expected to see, which was judgment. “Not a single word, Jess.”
His brow creases. “Why not?”
My mouth opens and closes before I come up with a plausible reason. “It’s new.”
Christ, is it new. So new I’m certain the texture of her skin beneath my fingertips is still there. This paradox of a woman is consuming my thoughts. I only flew home this morning and already resent the distance between us.
Just then, a text causes my phone to vibrate.
Fallon:
I wish you were still here.
Ethan: