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I didn’t wake up with a boner, but I did wake with a pounding headache and an existential crisis on the horizon. Alex did have one—a boner, not an existential crisis—and he didn’t run from me. A fact that he took great joy pointing out as he let the damn thing go down naturally on its own and dressed for the day. We’d both popped pain-killers. He checked my burns before he left, pleased to note that they were looking better, before rebandaging them with the same care he’d previously taken.

That was the last I saw of him.

Because he’d had to do more…competent-wedding-planner-brother things.

Still stuck in my thoughts, I’d wandered to the only place at the camping grounds that felt safe when he wasn’t beside me. The kitchen—and my mother. And her distracting, but soothing orders.

But even being commanded to cook did nothing to distract me.

I was stuck in the past .

Trapped.

Like a fly on a sticky tape trap.

When Brendon and I started dating he’d been a lot more focused on aftercare. He’d had a soft hand to follow the hard blows, and it’d been easy to melt when I was held so firmly beneath his thumb. He was never particularly affectionate, but I didn’t complain. As that care had dwindled from a full meal into table scraps over the years, I’d found myself grasping at what little morsels of affection he’d decided I deserved. I noticed the change, yes. But it was more lucrative at the time to beg for more than to argue over what I was missing.

Brendon had said my love was “smothering.”

He’d said that my standards were too high.

That I asked too much.

That I needed too much.

Brendon didn’t like when I argued—unlike Alex, who thrived under my attention, even when it was negative. There were so many differences between the two of them that it was hard to keep track of all of them. What did it say about me that my “practice boyfriend” was better at taking care of me than the man I’d thought would be my life partner?

How had I never noticed?

Scratch that—of course I had. I just…I suppose I hadn’t thought I deserved better. It was an awful sort of feeling, to come to terms with the fact that Brendon had been a horrible boyfriend when I’d put him on a pedestal for so long.

What was the opposite of rose-colored glasses? Green…spectacles? I had no idea. But it felt like I had a pair of those on. In the light of the morning, after spending time with a man that treated me well, it was suddenly easy to see all of Brendon’s faults.

I didn’t understand how Brendon could treat me the way he had, and yet—Alex didn’t? It was an equation that didn’t make sense. Two plus two equalling six, or something equally as unlikely .

Had the fault been mine? That I simply wasn’t worth the effort?

Especially after I’d found out what I was to him. A convenient hole to fuck when he got bored with his “real” relationship—the one I hadn’t known about. I was the idiot who spent years in the dark. While Brendon paraded around his fiancé, taking her to dinners, and picnics, and family events like he was proud of her. He’d never been proud of me. Never wanted to be seen with me. No, I was delegated to dark corners to pick at crumbs, and yet he’d expected me to be grateful for that.

So many things felt…confusing at present.

My job, for one. Because thinking about Brendon, obviously, made me think about work. And when I did, dread filled me. The icy fear of seeing him again, of returning to the pattern I’d lived in ignorance, now that my eyes were open, and I saw it for what it was.

A hamster in a wheel, running round and round.

Was I remaining there because it was what I’d always done? What was expected of me? Out of…stubbornness? Because I didn’t want to let my mother down? Or…was I staying because it was what I wanted.

Alex certainly cared about what I wanted.

Maybe I should start caring about that too.

It was odd.

Not once…had I thought about Brendon’s feelings.

Nor did the dread feel nearly as…debilitating as it had. It was still there, of course. Like a shadow clinging to my shoulders. But I could breathe through it. And that, in itself, was improvement.

As I stared listlessly into the giant pan of scrambled eggs I was helping my mom prepare, I couldn’t help but come to the conclusion that I…was beginning to maybe…care more about what Alex might do in the future than what Brendon had done in the past.

Steps forward.

Practice .

Practice at being…valued.

By a man that was Brendon’s antithesis.

Where Brendon had been calculating, Alex was spontaneous.

Where Brendon had been cold, Alex was warm.

Where Brendon rationed out his attention, Alex dumped his in overwhelming armfuls. So much so that I had no idea what to do with it. I’d been starved before, shriveled and needy, and I had no doubt that under Alex’s care that would not be the case. He’d glut me with affection if he could. Spoil me in ways I’d never been spoiled, simply because he wanted to.

I had an empty well and Alex wanted to fill it.

Which was…intimidating—but not…not bad, maybe?

Because I felt lighter than I had in days, maybe years? And I could only blame last night. The kisses, the compliments, the praise, the laughter. The way Alex had taken me apart then held me together. The way we’d gone to bed with laughter in the air. And woken up to gripe and swipe at each other all over again.

The lack of Alex at my side was frankly jarring.

We’d only just met.

And yet here I was—falling for his charm when I’d promised myself I was done with this. That I would never let another man control my emotions. That I’d never give someone power over me again. I didn’t know how to stop. I didn’t want to stop. Content to ride this train till the end, because for the first time in my life I was discovering what it felt like to be treated well.

Which was…infuriating.

And why I hadn’t protested when Alex had told me there was stuff he had to do this morning. He’d said he’d catch up with me later with those big blue puppy eyes—and I…believed him. Like a total schmuck. I one-hundred percent believed that he wasn’t playing with me. That last night had not been a fluke—a way to get in my pants.

That he’d been genuine .

Honest.

It was so…odd to think the best of someone. To trust them. To assume they had good intentions, rather than bad.

In a way, Alex’s absence was a blessing. I wouldn’t have been good company right now, anyway. It was better I hide in the kitchen, stewing in my thoughts, so he wouldn’t catch my bad mood as I sorted through them.

“You don’t look happy,” Mom said from my left. “I’m surprised, after last night.” She was wearing massive yellow gloves as she prepped bacon strips. This was round one-thousand. All loads of meat had been cooked to a crisp on the ginormous griddle she’d borrowed from Roderick’s mom. The one from our house was already full, sitting right beside it. It was literally a factory’s worth—and we planned to use every last strip.

My burns felt better today, and yet despite my protests, she hadn’t allowed me to handle anything other than the giant spoon I was currently stirring in the eggs. Even then, it’d been a battle.

The attention…was kind of nice.

Even if it wasn’t her fawning over me, and my job, and my “big city life”.

“I’m fine,” I said, even though she was right. The last thing I needed was for her to worry more about me. I really was fine. Having an existential crisis, yes, but fine.

“I’m your mother, I can tell something is wrong,” she replied. Like a hound with a bone, that one.

I sighed.

Stirring the eggs more vigorously than was healthy for them, I attempted to calm myself. It wasn’t her fault I was agitated. It wasn’t Alex’s either. He’d done nothing wrong, not last night, not this morning—and yet here I was, “fussy” again.

As enlightening as yesterday had been, I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. Without Alex breathing down my neck and distracting me, there was nothing to get me out of my head. A good orgasm—oh fuck, had it been good—would help .

But again.

Only eggs.

No Alex.

And ha! Wasn’t that a mind fuck in itself?! That I was now associating him with sex. That I was expecting sex. That I wanted sex.

Who the hell was I anymore?

Maybe I really had been replaced by a pod person.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mom asked, not dropping the subject like I’d hoped she would. Her tone was loving, which of course filled me with guilt.

“There’s nothing to talk about, because nothing is wrong.” I’d come to Ohio to bond with her and here I was…shutting her out. Why? Because I didn’t want her to think I was broken.

Even though I clearly was.

It was nice having one person think the world of me. Fine, two. Because Joe. Maybe…even three? Dad, though he’d never outright said it, had always seemed proud.

Ahuuughh! I jerked a hand through my bangs, pulling on them in frustration.

“Alright.” Mom’s hand waved in front of my face, blocking my view of the eggs. “That’s enough of that.”

Apparently I couldn’t even pretend to be normal.

“I know you were out with Alex last night.” Of course she knew. Alex had literally charmed the cookies right out of her hands. It wasn’t as though we were hiding it. “Is that why you’re so out of sorts?”

My cheeks immediately flamed bright red and I had to twist away so she wouldn’t see. She didn’t know we’d been… physically intimate , of course. Despite how out in the open we’d been, no one had come close enough to see us.

At least…I hadn’t thought so?

Oh, dear god.

What did she know?

“No. Yes. Maybe?” I said carefully, trying not to give anything away. Mom was aware that I was a sexually active adult. It was a fair assumption to make. But—to openly acknowledge it? Absolutely not. Nope. We were not doing that. Not today, Satan.

“Two peas in a pod,” Mom tacked on, a knowing smile on her lips.

“What?” What did peas have to do with anything?

“You and Alex,” she replied, looking pleased. “You certainly looked cute together last night. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you smile that much.” Had I been smiling?

“That can’t possibly be true.” My cheeks were only growing redder by the second.

“Considering…I’m surprised you’re in such a foul mood today.” Mom was concerned. Rightfully so. I’d done my damndest not to drop my guard around her for years. “Did he do something?” Mom paused, sobering. “You know you can tell me, right? That I’ll help you.”

Dregs left over from Brendon.

Like tea leaves in the bottom of an empty cup.

She felt guilty for not telling me to leave him.

But we both knew I wouldn’t have listened.

“Alex didn’t do anything wrong,” I was quick to reassure. “He was a perfect gentleman.”

“Maybe not a perfect gentleman,” she tacked on, tension gone, her eyes dancing.

If that was an innuendo I was going to pull my hair out.

“He’s…I mean…” Christ, what the fuck was I supposed to reply? “Alex is…nice.” That’s what she’d told me before. And fuck, she’d been right.

“I like him much more than Brendon,” Mom said without an ounce of shame. My heart squeezed, as I nodded jerkily. “He’s kinder to you.”

“Brendon wasn’t mean .”

I wasn’t sure why I was still lying about that.

Pride, maybe.

The last thing I had left .

“ Honey ,” Mom silenced me with a single look. I wilted, shrinking over my eggs with a groan. Clearly she saw through that too.

“Okay, so Brendon wasn’t particularly affectionate,” I admitted reluctantly. I had literally just been thinking about this so this line of questioning felt far too raw. “But I’m not—I mean… Alex and I aren’t dating. Officially.”

“You could be.”

“We could , except the fact that he literally told me he’s not looking for a relationship. And I’m not either. So—actually?” Okay, I was starting to sound a bit hysterical, voice rising in pitch. “We can’t. Because we don’t want to. Because we can’t. I told him I don’t want it. I literally—laid down the law. I told him I?—”

“Oh, sweetie,” Mom pulled her gloves off, bacon officially abandoned. She held her arms out, her bright blue dress beckoning me toward it like a beacon of motherhood. “Come here.”

“The eggs are going to burn.” I was fragile enough that if she squeezed I was sure to crack.

“Fuck the eggs.”

My jaw fell open. Since when did she swear? But then again, I’d caught her high as a kite last night, so maybe I shouldn’t be all that surprised to see evidence that she was an adult before she was my mother.

I fell into her embrace rigidly. It wasn’t like the way I’d melted into Alex last night when he’d had me tucked tight against his sweat-damp muscles, compliments murmured alongside the kisses he’d left on my skin. But this was my mom. So it was still pretty damn good.

This was one thing phone calls didn’t replace.

Hugs.

Mom rubbed my back and I had to force myself not to worry that she’d gotten stray drops of bacon on me. Bacon essence. She’d been wearing gloves—it had to be fine, right? At least, that’s what I told myself as I finally gave in, curling around her tiny form with a weighty sigh .

There wasn’t a problem in the world that one of my mom’s hugs couldn’t fix.

“It’s okay to change your mind, George,” she said softly. “You know that, right? That you can?—”

Joe came into the kitchen, interrupting our embarrassingly emotional moment with the emotional intelligence of a block of wood. The door slammed against the wall and he grunted, hefting a giant-ass cooler in his arms.

“Where do you want this?” he inquired.

He blinked, eyes narrowing as he finally noticed our embrace. I jerked away from Mom immediately. I’d been vulnerable in front of her and that was already far too much emotional honesty for one day. I didn’t need Joe to look at me like I was fucked up too.

At least one Milton needed to think I was perfect.

I retreated to my task—and my only somewhat burnt eggs—with my head held high. Unfortunately my cheeks remained flushed, no matter how hard I willed the heat away.

“Horrible timing as always,” Mom chided him, then gestured at the back wall. “There. Back corner.”

“I didn’t know you guys were gonna be hugging,” Joe gruffed, big chest heaving as he hauled the cooler where she’d directed. He set it down with a scrape, thud that echoed through the whole room. His back was sticky with sweat, and I grimaced. It was not at all attractive on him like it was on Alex.

“You need to shower,” I told him, stirring my eggs.

Joe made a sound, lifted his arm, and sniffed his armpit. He dropped it back down with a shrug. Then he settled against the counter, watching me with hawk-like intensity. “What’s in the cooler?” He asked Mom, as stoic as always.

“Beer,” she replied. “The ice is melting. I need to refill it so it’s ready to go back into the bridesmaids’ cabin.”

Joe frowned. “How much beer do they need?”

Mom rolled her eyes, hands on her hips. “However much they want, Joe. If they want to drink a gallon of beer every hour on the hour they are allowed to.” Joe was the youngest, and their relationship was way different than the one I had with Mom. Less respect, maybe? Just as much love, of course. But he certainly got chewed out more than I did. I wasn’t sure if that was because of his status as youngest—or the fact he didn’t seem to mind.

He had thicker skin than anyone.

And then—because he was Judas, and wanted the heat off of him—Joe threw me under the goddamn bus.

“Georgie got laid,” Joe said.

Mom stopped mid-rant, turning her wide eyes on me. “George…you—” she gaped.

“I am going to kill you.” I jabbed my egg-speckled spoon at Joe. “Feed you to the fucking bears—or wolves—or whatever horrible creature will take you.”

“Enough,” Mom sighed, shaking her head at the two of us. “If you’re going to fight, do it outside. You’re stressing out my bacon.”

“How can bacon stress out if it's dead?” Joe frowned, confused.

“It’s a figure of speech,” Mom replied, miffed at him again.

“Is it?” I teased, surprised by myself. Obviously she and Joe were surprised too because they both swiveled to look at me, twin sets of blue eyes wide. I lowered my spoon to the pan.

“I didn’t know you could joke,” Joe grunted.

“Of course I can joke.”

“Huh.” Joe looked at me like I was a stranger.

Had I really never joked with him?

“Just. Ugh. Forget it.” I turned back to the eggs, cheeks burning for a new reason now. A reason that had nothing to do with Joe outing my sexual escapades to our mother.

“Did you know he could do that?” Joe asked Mom, not dropping the subject.

“It’s been a while since the last time he lowered his guard enough, but yes,” Mom laughed back, delighted, and not afraid to poke fun—even though that was mortifying. She saw right through me. “Does your good humor have to do with your adventures with Alex last night?”

“Can we please stop talking about my sex life now?” I was justifiably horrified. And pissed at Joe. Because this was all his fucking fault. And he’d done it on purpose! Giant little shit.

“I don’t know,” Joe said. “I’m having fun.”

“ Joe .”

The more flushed I became, the more eager Joe and Mom were to taunt me. When Lacey entered the room a second later, a third griddle in her arms, I knew I was fucked. Lacey knew how to use her mouth like a goddamn weapon.

“Why are you all smiling?” she asked. “Except George.”

“George got laid last night,” Joe informed her at the same time Mom said, “George made a joke.” They stared at each other for a beat, then laughed.

“ George would really like it if you all stopped talking about him,” I said.

“George should not use third person if he wants the teasing to stop,” Lacey said. She set the griddle she was carrying in the only empty spot left on the counter and turned to look at me.

“George is—I mean, I am leaving,” I said—though…that would mean abandoning my eggs, and they were almost done.

“You’re acting like getting laid is a big deal,” Lacey said. “Is it a big deal, George? Was it that good?”

That question made me pause—which in turn made the room explode with excitement.

“I knew setting them up was a good idea!” Mom sounded far too innocent for a demon. Because she was one. Just like Joe and Lacey. Because I was in Hell. This was Hell. It had to be. Otherwise my own mother wouldn’t be gossiping about my sex life with my two younger siblings.

She turned her attention to Joe and Lacey, ignoring me entirely. “I thought they’d be compatible. You know… that way.”

“Why the hell are you making hypotheses about my sexual preferences?” I squawked .

“We talk about it all the time,” Lacey replied, dead-toned.

“What the fuck ?” I gasped.

“When we have our meetings,” Joe added, like I hadn’t spoken at all.

“Your… meetings ?” I was being baited, but I couldn’t seem to get myself to ignore them, or leave, despite my protests. Vaguely, I recalled Roderick mentioning something similar at the barbecue. He’d said he was a “member”. At the time, I’d thought nothing of it. But now…I was realizing maybe his comment hadn’t been random.

Despite how horrible, awful, horrible this was—it was also…nice to be here with my family, even if they were hellions.

I’d missed this.

And before I’d let them see beneath my “perfect” exterior, we hadn’t had a single moment like it. Maybe…vulnerability was the price I had to pay to be close to them.

“What meetings?” I poked again when no one answered.

“For our club,” Joe grunted.

I was missing something critical.

“What club?” I narrowed my eyes at Joe. Of the three of them, he was the most likely to spill. He didn’t have a mean bone in his body, even if he was a giant tease sometimes—exhibit A, right now.

“The We Hate Brendon Club,” Joe said the words without any guilt whatsoever.

“The…” what?

“We Hate Brendon Club,” Lacey filled in the blank. “Alternatively known as the Get George A Better Boyfriend Initiative. That name was too long and too complicated so we scrapped it.”

“Dad’s still mad about that,” Mom muttered.

“The new name makes more sense. It’s practical.”

“You’re kidding .” They did not have a club. That was—that was ridiculous.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Lacey gestured to her face, which was as stern as always. Her pale hair was gelled back, not a single strand out of place. And she was wearing a pencil skirt and blouse, despite the fact we were camping.

Intimidating and impractical, just like her.

“You…” I faltered. Lacey didn’t look like she was kidding. In fact, Lacey rarely, if ever, joked. We were similar in that way, apparently. “You really…have a club? To hate on my ex-boyfriend? All of you?” The more I acknowledged it out loud the more unbelievable it seemed.

“With meetings and everything,” Joe confirmed—as though what they were both admitting to wasn’t completely unhinged.

“And you were aware of this?” I swiveled to look at Mom, hoping to find some semblance of sanity inside the current madness.

“Of course I was,” Mom shrugged, totally unrepentant. “I’m Vice President.”

I didn’t know how to feel about any of this. Maybe I should’ve been more offended. But the longer I mulled over my feelings the more apparent it became that the strongest of them was simply relief. As odd as this was, it was validating to learn that my family had seen what I had. And that no one blamed me for calling it quits on a relationship that had taken up so much of my adult life.

I wasn’t sure why I’d expected to be judged for it.

But it was nice to know I hadn’t been.

Apparently I was the only person that viewed leaving Brendon as failure.

“Is this the same club that’s been trying to set me up with Alex?” I inquired, though I already knew the answer. All three blond heads bobbed in sync. Flushed, mildly pleased, and mostly horrified, I wilted. “I’m guessing you’re not the only three members.” Three head shakes in reply. Varying degrees of enthusiasm. “Jesus Christ.”

“You can join if you’d like,” Mom offered.

“How magnanimous of you,” I replied dryly. “To invite me to join a club about me.”

“There’s usually cookies,” Lacey gave my back a single, awkward pat, before turning back toward the door. “I’ve gotta go. I promised Mavis I’d get her ready for the lake early so we could be the first ones down there.”

Right, the lake.

Because today was “lake day”.

Unbidden, memories from the night before flooded my senses.

Alex between my legs. Alex’s hot, wet, tight mouth around my dick. Alex’s hands, so big and scratchy, pinning me immobile like it was easy to do so. Alex’s words?—

“If you keep that up you’re going to have bruises on your hips and leg tomorrow. And it’s lake day. So everyone is going to see.”

“George?” Joe waved a hand in front of my face the same way Mom had a few minutes prior. I startled, jerking away from the eggs. The stove was off, Mom’s doing—when? I had no idea—and the spoon I’d been holding was missing.

“Sorry,” I shook my head, cheeks bright red. “What?”

“I asked if you were coming.”

“To the…to the lake?” Did I really have bruises on my hips? I hadn’t checked. It was a testament to how distracted I was that my first thought hadn’t been how very little I desired to get wet—fuck, maybe Alex had been onto something when he’d said I was a cat. “Why would I—I mean…”

Oh Jesus.

I probably did have bruises.

Bruises I’d need to hide.

My cock twitched at the thought.

“Lakes are lakes—” I stuttered. Lakes are lakes? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? C’mon, George.

“Mavis wants to build a sand castle,” Joe told me. He was uncharacteristically chatty now, even going so far as to tell me about the lake and the beach it had. Also wave runners? And boats— kayaks ? Canoes. Something or other. But my brain was in the past, focus stolen by last night and how very lovely it had been. Only this time, I didn’t think about ex-boyfriends, or guilt, or worries—I simply let myself recall the…good .

“Okay,” I found myself agreeing.

Joe offered me a fist bump, that I returned, still dazed. “Bye.”

“Bye,” I had no idea what I had just agreed to but could only hope it wasn’t something totally terrible-awful. Mom was less mischievous as I helped her pack up drinks for the beach. She didn’t bring up our earlier conversation either, the one about feelings . When we’d finally finished, I felt lighter than I had in a long time—more than ready to see the other pea in my pod.

Other half of my peapod?

Pea number two.

Either way.

Alex.

I was on the hunt for Alex.

As ridiculous, and confusing, and earth-shattering as that was. I wanted to see him. And maybe…tell him about the We Hate Brendon Club. And maybe, if I was really, really lucky, he’d leave some more bruises for me to worry about hiding.

I couldn’t wait to get more practice in, my bleeding heart be damned.