Page 37

Juniper had never been more beautiful than she was at her wedding. Her dress puffed around her calves, exposing the white cowboy boots she’d had custom made. Her veil dragged behind her in the dirt, long enough I was relieved it hadn’t managed to trip anyone up all day. She’d ended up picking the ultra long one for dramatic effect.

She didn’t mention boob sweat.

Not once.

Dad ugly cried the entire time he led her down the aisle, and Roderick did the same. Both of them were loud as hell, tears slipping down their cheeks. It was impossible not to react, and I found myself shedding a tear or two as well, especially when Roderick began “lasso-walking” Juniper the last ten or so steps, and the benches full of wedding guests erupted into booming, eager applause.

In a blink, it was over.

Just like that .

Years of preparation all leading to the single, perfect moment that was Juniper and Roderick exchanging rings, and kisses, with a canopy of leaves—and all their loved ones, all in one place.

I felt lighter, already.

Lighter still as they ran down the aisle together, arms held high, more cheers echoing through the picturesque morning. Even Mom had showed up—standing on the front row beside Dad wearing her signature sunglasses and a soft smile.

It felt like a perfect moment.

A movie moment.

Like from an eighties rom-com where everything turned out in the end.

I was floating when I met George’s gaze—somewhere in the middle of the crowd, tucked between his parents and siblings. His eyes were as fathomless as always. Surreptitiously, he glanced around, searching for the missing exhibitionist from last night, probably—before he raised his hand in a shy thumbs up, aimed my way.

I mirrored the motion, heart fluttering like crazy.

I couldn’t stop thinking about how my watch had looked on his wrist. And how heavy it felt now. Heavy in a way it never had before. Like it wasn’t mine anymore.

Couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d watched me as I’d shaved this morning, all dark, lovely eyes. Or the way he’d offered to help me get the corner of my jaw—then let me return the favor, steady swipes of my blade on his skin.

I didn’t see him again until later. Mom left early. We’d done family pictures—Dad, Juniper, Roderick, and I. The whole time I’d felt the empty spot at my side keenly. I’d done my best not to focus on it, however—instead making sure Juniper felt seen and appreciated on her big day, even though my hovering was apparently pissing her off.

Because by the time the photos were over and it was time to join the reception, she confronted me. “If you don’t stop looming over me I’m going to scream.”

“I’m only?—”

“Helping, I know.” She laughed then smacked my chest. “And you’ve been very helpful.” Her tone softened. “The most helpful. And I appreciate it, so, so, so much.” It was an uncharacteristic show of genuine emotion. We’d had way too many of these moments lately. But I supposed that was what happened at weddings. We both shifted on our feet, uncomfortable. “But I will be here tomorrow for you to celebrate with. And I’ll be here the day after that—and the day after that—and the day after?—”

“Okay, I get it.”

“So go…I dunno. Fuck off and have fun with your date.”

“Oh my god.”

“I feel sufficiently supported and loved.” She gave my chest a pat. “Really.” I sighed, tension bleeding away as I nodded. “Besides—you got to hog Dad all day yesterday, and I’ve barely seen him.”

“You see me every day,” Dad dead-panned, where he was not even pretending he wasn’t eavesdropping to our left.

“I’m trying to make Alex not feel guilty for spending time with George instead of me,” June groaned, hands flying up. “You’re not helping.”

“Right.” Dad adopted an air of mock seriousness. “Go forth. Be gay.”

“He’s bisexual,” Roderick supplied helpfully, still clinging to Juniper’s arm. He was the one that was truly hovering. But when he did it, it was cute, apparently.

“Go forth and be bi,” Dad corrected himself.

“Not too bi, though,” June teased. “Wouldn’t want to traumatize any more of our cousins.”

“It was one time, and one cousin.” I rolled my eyes. “And I shouldn’t have told you.”

“But I’m soooo glad you did. You know Mama loves her drama.” She blew me a kiss, and I stormed off, eager to find George—especially now that the resulting guilt felt far, far away.

And yet our timer kept tick, tick, ticking.

George was, as always, with his family. This time, Joe. Joe, who was staring morosely down at his white button up—that was now red, seeing as he’d apparently spilled wine on it. George was dabbing at it with a paper napkin and making fussy, grumpy sounds.

“It’s not going to come out.”

I approached slowly, catching Joe’s attention and pressing a finger to my lips so he wouldn’t react. His eyes widened, lighter blue than George’s. A little smile curled across his lips—a smile that would have betrayed my presence if George had not been mid-mother-henning.

“I swear to god,” he griped, “you need a bib?—”

Leaning in close, I held my breath so as not to alert him to my presence at his back. He didn’t notice. Joe’s eyes danced.

Three…two…one?—

“ Boo .” When I pinched George’s sides, he squawked, arms flapping. He whipped his head to glare at me, spooked.

“You scared the fuck outta me,” he gasped, the napkin he’d been holding fluttering to the ground.

“You helping Joe?” I murmured, arms sliding around his waist and pulling him back against my chest where he belonged. Pressing a kiss to that long, mole-speckled neck, I melted—finally feeling as though I could actually settle.

Recharging.

“Helping would be a stretch,” George sighed. “I’ve made him a smidge less wet. Everything else is a lost cause.”

Joe frowned. “Won’t kill me.”

“Wasn’t that suit a rental?” George snarked .

“Oh.” Joe’s brow furrowed. “Might kill me.”

“I’ll take care of it,” I promised, lighter on my feet than I’d been since I’d parted with George this morning.

“Really?” Joe perked up, focusing his puppy eyes on me. “You’d do that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thanks.” Joe offered me a fist bump of gratitude—before he wandered off to presumably congratulate Roderick and June.

“Why aren’t you with your family?” George didn’t turn around to face me, still looking at the dessert table, though his pink ears betrayed him as always.

“I was banished.” I gave him another squeeze before pulling back so I could do the turning myself. He was pliant in my grip, allowing me to maneuver him until we were chest to chest with no complaints.

“Banished?” George arched a judgy brow, though he was staring at my collar, and not me. And that simply wouldn’t do. I grabbed his chin, squeezing and tipping his head up so he’d be forced to meet my gaze.

“Banished,” I confirmed. “Apparently June is sick of me.”

George snorted. “Believable.”

He didn’t mean that.

We both knew he didn’t mean that.

I grinned, not taking the bait.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in years,” I sighed, thumb skimming over his bottom lip.

“It’s been two hours.”

Two hours of dealing with my mom, with the ceremony, getting my picture taken—which I hated. Two hours George-less.

“Two hours too long. Dance with me?” It was a formal request, dripping with affection—and ignoring the ammo my pretty kitty always seemed to have loaded. His mouth was as sharp as it was soft. “Please?”

He melted, blue eyes meeting mine, his flush splotchy and endearing where it smeared across his cheeks and throat. “O-okay. ”

I pulled him toward the dance floor, waiting along the edge for the next song to play. June had wanted to forgo the whole first-dance tradition, and instead, had opted for a more group oriented approach. Therefore, the live orchestra had been playing since the reception had begun, even before she’d arrived.

George was a horrible dancer.

Which was surprising.

How the hell had he been a cheerleader?

Or in theater, for that matter?

It was a mystery.

He stepped on my feet more often than not—punctuated by apologies dripping in mortification. I didn’t chastise him though. What were a few missing toes in the face of his affection? After the third time he’d stomped on my foot, he whined, this low, upset sound.

“I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. It’s too?—”

Golden-boy George was too embarrassed.

“Here.” I jerked him upward, lifting his body up and against mine, until his feet settled on top of my own. “Now you don’t need to worry.”

The motion silenced his protests, his eyes full of confusion, and then ultimately relief when we started to spin around in graceful circles, and no more toes were abused.

“Everyone’s going to see,” he muttered, though he didn’t step off my feet. The weight of him was nice. The dress shoes I’d bought him were bound to leave scuffs on mine, but I didn’t mind.

In fact, I’d put them on a pedestal. Right next to the family photos we’d taken in the woods.

“No one’s watching your feet, baby,” I promised, hands wrapped around him to keep him steady. I stole a grope of his ass, wagging my brows until he giggled. He quickly caught himself, adopting a scowl instead. A scowl that was ruined by the light in his eyes, and the way his lips kept twitching like he wanted to smile .

“Monogamy is a good look on you,” June’s voice startled me out of my staring match with George’s mouth. I snorted, and George flushed, glancing toward her sheepishly.

“Fuck off,” I laughed.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to your sister on her wedding day.” June and Roderick were spinning around in lazy circles off beat. Which…if that wasn’t a symbol of why they worked, I didn’t know what was.

“Yeah, that’s not going to work anymore. Not after you’re the one that chased me off.”

“Touché.” June’s eyes were warm as she ran them over the two of us. “Cute,” she said simply, before leading Roderick away—and leaving us alone.

The rest of the afternoon was full of little comments.

Mrs. M told us we were “quite the pair.” Mr. M grunted. Lacey and Joe both offered me a thumbs up—at different times, and with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Mavis was…as always…not impressed by me stealing her uncle—but hell, who could blame her? In a way, I was jealous of myself too.

That I was the one who got to hold George-Arthur Milton close. That I was the one he fed bites of his wedding cake to—germs be damned. That he accepted my kisses. That he wore my hickeys. That when he smiled, it was for me—and me alone.

It all came to a stop way too soon.

The ceremony ended.

June and Roderick departed to go on their honeymoon.

The vendors started the arduous process of taking things down.

And then it was just…pieces.

The scraps of what had been a monumental day—a perfect week, over a year of meticulous planning—strewn across the campground like they were as temporary as party confetti. The cousins were mostly packed up, and Mrs. M was chatting with Roderick’s parents. They were determined to clear up the cabins themselves—to “save me money”—despite the fact I’d hired a company to do that, and it really wouldn’t.

I didn’t have it in me to fight them on it.

George was silent at my side, leaning into me, his eyes distant.

As distant as they’d been the night I’d made him a picnic and he’d stared at the stars.

Like he was miles away—even though he was right here.

“Do you have a ride?” I asked, heart in my throat.

It wasn’t a question I wanted to ask.

“To the airport?” George clarified, blinking out of his reverie. “Yes.”

“Oh.” I was…disappointed. He could tell, because his tone softened.

“But I already asked Lacey if you could take me.” It was presumptuous of him. Which was totally unlike him. A fact we both knew. “She said yes.”

“Perfect.” I pressed a kiss to his cheek, and he made a soft noise he probably didn’t mean for me to hear. Pleased. That was what that sound was. George was pleased. “When do we need to leave?” I asked.

His lips pursed.

That faraway look was back as he sighed.

“Now?” he sighed.

“Now?” I hadn’t expected that. So soon? “As in…right now. This second,” I clarified.

“Pretty much. Especially if we’re dropping your dad home first.”

“Dad can wait.” That wasn’t something I’d ever thought I’d say. Immediately, I felt selfish. But then I pushed that thought aside. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a detour to the airport.” The last thing I wanted was to stress George out and make him worry about missing his flight home.

Home.

To a place that wasn’t here.

With me.

Because our time was nearly up.

Sucking in a breath, I tried to calm my racing heart. “Grab your backpack? I’ll go get him.”

“What about your tent?” George frowned.

“One of the perks of having money,” I shrugged. “It’ll get taken care of.”

“Okay.” George wavered, before he pressed a kiss to my cheek. “I’ll go say bye to my mom then?”

“Sounds good,” I agreed, missing him, even though he was right next to me. “I’ll meet you at the car.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” I echoed.

“Okay,” George said a third time. He stood there for a second, mouth opening and closing—then he sighed, shoulders slumping. “ Okay .” He sounded defeated, disappointed in himself, and I wasn’t sure why. George stalked off before we could get any more awkward, and I watched him go, chest squeezing tight.

Why couldn’t I…

Why couldn’t I keep him?

You know why, I reminded myself.

There’s a reason you only offered a temporary relationship.

You don’t want him to get sick of you, do you?

“Fuck.” I groaned, fingers biting into my hair and tugging. He was out of sight now, and that loss nearly sent me right to my knees.

Dad was happy as he’d climbed into the back seat. The flower on his lapel had wilted, as had mine, and his usually impeccable hair was disheveled. There was an air of exhaustion about him, but that wasn’t unusual. What was, however, was the fact it had been caused by happiness, rather than healing.

He was getting better.

Able to move about now—no bruises in sight .

“This is a refreshing change of pace.” He hummed a jaunty tune to himself, buckling up with a prim wiggle. “I never thought I’d see the day you’d put yourself first. And I have George to thank for it. New favorite son status: achieved.”

I groaned. “Please don’t.” I leaned my head against the steering wheel. “Don’t make jokes like that. I just—fuck.”

“Alex…” Dad blinked, nonchalant as ever. “You haven’t told him you want to keep dating him, have you? I’m surprised. Considering you’re totally inseparable, even when you aren’t fucking like rabbits.”

“ Jesus Christ.” So he knew about that then. I blamed Martin. Or June? Fuck. Maybe both of them. Everyone. I blamed everyone—myself included. It wasn’t like I tried to hide how into George I was—or like I’d been particularly sneaky about our nighttime escapades. Last night I’d had less than zero fucks to give.

It was still embarrassing to get called out by my dad though. Especially when he was giving me these knowing looks—like he understood that this was different for me, even without me outright admitting it.

My cheeks went hot and I glanced out the window, making sure George wasn’t approaching. I was terrified he might overhear. “It…I mean. He’s?—”

“Only here for the wedding, I know.” Dad’s voice was sad. “You know, once I?—”

“Do not take this opportunity to tell me about your many flings, please. It’s not as motivating as you think.”

“I wasn’t going to—” Dad laughed, wry and soft. He was notoriously a bachelor. His reputation preceded him wherever we went—a fact that was not at all embarrassing. Nope. Totally not. “Okay, maybe I was. But I was only trying to reassure you that long-distance is a totally viable option.”

“I don’t need advice,” I sighed, even though I kind of did. Laying my head back on the cool steering wheel, I took a moment to breathe. “I know what I need to do. I just…need to stop being a fucking bitch and do it.”

I needed to drop George off at the airport .

Needed to let this be what we’d agreed it was.

Needed to stop wanting more.

Needed to?—

“It’s okay to be scared, Alex,” Dad’s hand was warm against my back. Apparently he’d leaned between the seats, because his voice was louder too. It felt good in a way only a loving parent’s reassurance could. “Trusting people can be terrifying.”

“ Stooop .”

I knew that better than anyone. I hadn’t trusted anyone outside my family in years. Roderick, yes, but only because I could see how much June loved him. Aside from that, I’d never let myself open up. Not the way I had with George. And that was fucking terrifying.

When I was with George, all the “masks” I wore fell away. If he ended up rejecting me, it meant I wasn’t good enough. That I really was too much. That the last shred of hope I had left would wither and die.

And if that happened?

I had no idea what I’d become.

I could handle being disliked by my previous partners.

But…George?

I couldn’t survive that.

Right now, he liked me. But like I’d told him—he’d only known me on my good days. And a week was…not long enough for him to get tired of me.

Except that you already admitted you’ve shown him more than you’ve ever shown anyone else, that same voice whispered. And he’s still here. Maybe that means something.

“What if he…” my voice came out choked. “What if he decides he doesn’t?—”

The passenger door opened and my words got stuck.

“What if he decides he doesn’t what?” George inquired as he slid into his spot. His backpack was between his legs, his upper body drowning in one of my t-shirts. He’d changed clothes. Apparently. When he’d been saying his goodbyes. And his clothing of choice was an item of mine. That he would…clearly be taking home with him.

I loved that he hadn’t asked permission to do that.

Almost as much as I loved his flawless timing.

I didn’t want to get into this with my dad. I couldn’t believe how close I’d gotten to just that—for years I’d refused to open up to him, careful to maintain my perfect son persona.

It was exhausting to feel like I lived in a constant state of crisis. A fact, in a way, George understood. It was part of why we got along so well. He did the same thing with his family—only better.

Christ, we made such a fucked up pair.

“What if he…” I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to pretend like I hadn’t been about to talk about George.

Dad saved the day, patting George’s shoulder in greeting before sliding back into his seat. “Alex was concerned that Roderick might not be able to make it for their next game.”

“Oh,” George frowned. He glanced at me, a worried look in his eyes.

Are you okay? he mouthed. I smiled and nodded, even though I wasn’t.

Lying.

Like the coward I was.

Lying about the big stuff, like I’d told George I hated.

Who was the hypocrite now?

“You got everything?” I confirmed, reaching over to tweak his nose. He batted me off with a grumpy sound. I felt better immediately. The unease that’d settled cold and heavy around me dissipated.

“Yes.” George’s grimple winked at me. “Not my suit though. Mom said she’ll ship it to me. And my pickles,” he sighed. “Those are at your house.”

“That’s good.” And it was. It was totally, completely awesome. Totally. Yep. Totally great that he lived far enough away that my gifts would need to be shipped. Totally awesome that the next time I opened my fridge I was probably going to break down when I saw his goddamn pickles. “I’d be happy to do it.”

“You’ve done enough,” George promised, buckling himself up, then turning his attention to my dad. “Don’t you dare ship my half-eaten pickles to me.”

“Well, now I want to.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. James,” George said formally—like the nerd he was. I snorted, and my dad looked amused.

“Where’s my ‘good afternoon’?” I teased. “I wouldn’t mind being called Mr. James.”

“ Alex ,” George growled, embarrassed.

“What? It wouldn’t be the kinkiest thing we’ve done.”

“Alex!” George smacked me, and I grinned.

Dad knew anyway. There was no need to hold back. Besides…I was holding back enough, as it was, my true feelings squeezing like serpents around my heart.

The trees blurred by, sunlight dappling through the branches as I pulled out of the parking lot and onto the narrow, winding road that would lead us back to civilization.

It felt weird.

All of this did.

The wedding was over. June was married. Roderick was officially my brother now. Everything I’d worked so hard for had simply…ended. Even weirder, was the fact that my heart hurt.

This giant, uncomfortable cramp in my chest.

I caught myself rubbing it a few times—and George flashed me another concerned look, but didn’t comment.

Dad put headphones in, which was genuinely kind of him. He zoned out, gazing through the window and allowing us what little privacy we could have, considering the inside of the cab was a shared space.

George was…unaffected.

His usually expressive face was oddly blank as he watched the trees whipping by. I didn’t know what to say to break the silence. I didn’t know if I should. If I should pretend like this was normal. Like the idea of sending him away wasn’t breaking my heart.

Like I wasn’t totally, completely, irrevocably in love with him.

Even though it’d been a week.

A fucking week.

And we’d both sworn we weren’t looking for something serious.

We’d agreed this was for practice. That this week was all we’d have. All we wanted.

“Tell me about Monday,” George’s words were faint—faint enough I barely heard them.

“What?” I blinked, surprised. My hands tightened on the steering wheel, the crunch of the tires filling the silence.

“It’s Monday,” George tried again, even more stilted. “How do you…how do you start the day?”

Oh god.

My stomach tied itself in knots. Clearing my throat, I realized what he was doing. Distracting himself. Just like I’d asked him to do for me, a few short days ago. My watch had never felt heavier on my wrist—the weight of all that we’d shared in such a short time hanging over me.

“I’m up by six.” I hardly recognized my own voice, it was so hoarse. “I go for a run to get some cardio in before I meet my trainer at the gym by seven thirty.” Sick, heavy—my heartbeat was sluggish. “Grab a protein shake, then head to work.”

“Where do you work?”