Page 38 of Fourth Wheel

Chapter 18

Maddie

Ihelpedhimoutof his shirt, assuming he’d struggle with it, having dislocated his shoulder only an hour ago. Then I wandered around his bedroom while he got in the shower.

I found clean underwear and athletic shorts in one of his dresser drawers, then left them on the sink for him to put on himself. There’s a vanity at one end of the bathroom, making it easy to stay close without getting right up in his business.

Of course, he tried to flash me his junk more than once. And I’m woman enough to admit that I was tempted to look. Mostly because I’m curious. Dempsey and Fielding are identical twins: so does that mean they’re identicaleverywhere?

I decided against peeking and griped at him for indecent exposure instead. I still intend to see what the full Haas package looks like, but I want to see it on the other twin.

Now Fielding’s sitting on the counter, shirtless, while I stand between his legs and clean the cuts and scrapes on his upper body. His forearms and hands are achingly familiar: I’ve drooled over his brother’s for the last week, wanting nothing more than the arms that match these to pin me against a wall of bricks and do all sorts of delicious things to my body.

“You could be a nurse when you grow up, Little Wheeler,” Fielding murmurs as I clean a gash above his eyebrow that is somehowstillbleeding. He really could use a few stitches in this one, but no one has mentioned anything about going to the hospital.

“That’s sexist,” I murmur, pressing down on the gauze until he hisses in pain.

“Fine. You could be a lady doctor. Happy?”

“That’s even more sexist!” Heat flares in my cheeks until I see the glint in his unswollen eye.

He’s goading me.

“Whatdoyou want to be when you grow up?” he asks.

I look through the bandage options spread out on the countertop, deciding on a butterfly closure for his eyebrow.

“I’m going to be a lawyer.”

“Oh yeah? A good guy lawyer or a bad guy lawyer?” he asks, before adding, “And I mean ‘guy’ as a casual expression of slang, not as gendered term, so don’t come at me with your patriarchal bullshit again.”

I smirk. He’s quick. Just like Dempsey.

“I haven’t decided. I think I would do well as a corporate lawyer or a high-profile defensive attorney. But I also have a soft spot for the underdog.”

“Clearly,” he jibes, wincing when I apply ointment to the cut at his temple and put one more bandage in place.

There. I’ve patched up every injury I can find.

“Why’d you do it, Field?”

When he doesn’t answer, I push harder.

“Why would you go to a party and pick a fight when youknewyour brother was preoccupied with your mom tonight?”

He turns his head, and I wonder if I’ve gone too far. At least he has the decency to look remorseful.

He sighs, then slides off the countertop, leaning back and crossing one tan, sinewy arm across his bare chest. I’ve been watching his movements since he got out of the shower. He’s barely using his right arm. I make a mental note to mention it to Dempsey.

“I didn’t set out to cause chaos tonight. Sometimes… sometimes the night just gets to me.”

“That sounds like a cop-out to me,” I muse. “We’ve known each other a long time, Field. I’ve never seen you like this before.”

Fielding scoffs. His eyes get this glassy, faraway look, and his next words come out just above a whisper.

“You don’t know me anymore, Little Wheeler.Ibarely know me anymore.”

That doesn’t make sense. But it sounds honest.