Page 8 of Honey Undone (The Hornets Nest #5)

SARAH

“ H ey Bright! Can I get a cinnamon whiskey and cranberry?” I leaned over the bar to get his attention.

He looked over at me and nodded as he flipped a few cups over onto the bar.

It was busy tonight but it was the only place my brother would eat in Harbor.

So I snuck in early with my laptop and commandeered a table in the back before the dinner crowd flooded in to watch the games.

The Hollow was popular with the first responders and a few of the semi-professional sports teams. Sunday’s brothers, Brighton and Boone Black, owned it.

Twins that couldn’t be more different in personality seemed to flawlessly run the bar so smoothly that they had won more than one award for being the place to spend your Fridays in Harbor.

Brighton mixed up the drink, slid out from behind the bar and walked it over to my table. A few tattoos picked out from under the short sleeves of his loose black shirt as he handed it to me and tipped his chin up to look at the TV I was staring at.

“You think they’ll win the series this year?” I asked him.

Brighton was that kind of handsome that if you looked at him for too long you’d find things wrong with his face.

A pronounced jaw, combined with high cheekbones and narrowed, judgmental dark blue eyes all highlighted by thick dark waves of hair that regularly fell against his forehead while he worked.

The Black family were all like that, painfully beautiful.

Boone was tall like his twin brother, drenched in tattoos, but for all of Brighton’s serious nature, Boone was a goofball.

He was the life of the Hollow. Him and Sunday were always dancing on the bar and starting shot trains when left alone for more than two minutes .

“They have a decent shot, but that Tucker kid is struggling to keep them together.” Brighton shrugged and looked back at me. “Do you want me to put your dinner order in?” He asked me.

“Sure, Zane and Taylor should be here soon, throw theirs on too?” I asked and he tapped the table with his fingers.

“Hey,” I called to him, “will you turn it up?” I pointed to the TV and he nodded before slipping behind the bar again.

With the volume up I could hear what they were talking about just barely over the sound of the bar crowd.

They were discussing the Hornets’ ability to work as a team.

The upcoming series against their biggest rivals in Lorette was going to be tough but in order to get to the finals, they needed to beat them.

They panned across the field showing the team warming up for the game and my heart fluttered funny in my chest when they showed Jensen stretching and laughing with a few other players.

Since the day at the gym he had been quiet, too quiet.

I missed his texts and that was dangerous.

I had so many regrets and they were only amplified when I told Kaia what happened over the phone on the walk home.

She yelled at me for nearly an hour for the “the cardio I want to do” line and how I should have capitalized that instance. And for what it was worth, she was right because every time I thought about him, sweaty, naked and…

“Addy.” Taylor wrapped around the table and pressed a kiss to the top of my head knocking me from my thoughts. He sat at the table as I closed my laptop and squeezed my thighs together in protest to the growing heat at the inappropriate daydream I was having.

Taylor was my oldest brother, and he mirrored my awkward smile back at me.

It was a running joke that my fathers genes were too strong because all three of us looked exactly the same just a few years apart.

Zane gave a wave to Brighton before slumping down onto the stool next to me with an exhausted groan.

“What’s up your ass?” I asked him, with a gentle kick to his foot under the table. He loosened the tie around his neck as Brighton dropped two beers on the table and left.

“Case today was rough,” he said, downing the first beer and then the second much to Taylor’s annoyance. “I hate when the kids are involved in divorce. ”

“Hits too close to home,” Taylor mused, entertaining Zane’s small melt down.

“You talk to Mom today?” He asked me and I nodded.

We usually took turns babysitting our parents feelings and expectations.

I was nine when they divorced, Dad was military and moved to Japan with the Navy leaving Mom to manage three kids on her own.

She did her best and we spent summers overseas but nothing had ever really been normal after that.

“She’s fine, she’s going on a cruise with her new boyfriend so most of our conversation was her talking to her suitcase while I stared at her forehead.” I took a sip of my drink and Taylor laughed.

“Dad’s coming to visit at the end of the month,” Zane said and I choked on the tart cocktail, the cinnamon whiskey hitting the back of my throat in surprise.

“What?” Taylor scowled and waved down a passing waitress for a new beer. “Why?”

“He talked in circles, you know Dad…” Zane shrugged.

“You’re the only one that gets confused when he explains simple details, you jackass, where is he staying? How long is he here for?” Taylor pushed and his oldest sibling nature slipped out in the middle of the Hollow.

“I didn’t ask him any of that,” Zane said with a shitty smirk on his face. “I honestly don’t give a shit, we all know he’s not getting on that plane. He never does.”

Zane had a point.

“He's not wrong. When was the last time he actually followed through? The day before an excuse will come up and we’ll be off the hook,” I said, cleaning up around my glass.

“You better hope so because he’s not staying at my house,” Taylor warned.

“That’s right he still doesn’t know you’re married,” Zane teased, “that would be awkward.”

Taylor growled at Zane from across the table but my focus was pulled upward to the start of the game while they argued to themselves about our father.

I didn’t particularly care either way. Me and dad had never been close, I was the youngest and required the least attention from him when everything started to fall apart.

Taylor was two years from graduating and Zane was so brilliant at such a young age my parents had been arguing over how they were going to pay to put him through law school.

I had been an afterthought of a child.

Independent, self-sufficient. I was invisible in my own family dynamic. My brothers did their best to pick up the slack but monthly dinners where they argued about our parents wasn’t exactly what I had pictured when they suggested we started them.

Their argument faded out as the pitcher took the mound and started to silently communicate with Jensen behind home plate.

I could see the worry on his brow as he slapped the cage down over his face and prepared for the opening pitch of the game.

It was clear that the game was a stressor, the times before everything had been so light and fun.

The urge to win was always present but the Jensen on the TV screen was a different animal and it stirred something around in the pit of my stomach.

My hand flexed around my cup as the ball was thrown, it looked like it was going to hit leather but instead the bat caught it and it was rocketed right back at Logan on the mound.

It bounced off the ground and spun through the air toward the shortstop.

He pocketed it like it was nothing and rifled the ball across the infield to Tucker on first. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until the play was called dead.

When I turned back to the table both my brothers were eying me.

“What?” A nervous chuckle left my lips.

“Since when do you like baseball?” Taylor asked, his voice as judgmental as his harsh stare. He leaned over the table and tilted his head to the side to really drive his question home.

“It’s sports…I like sports,” I said trying to recover and looked to Zane for help. Usually he was down to team up on Taylor but I was being hung out to dry.

“Sure, you like a lot of sports,” Zane laughed, and I knew I had stepped in it. “But you’ve never found that much interest in baseball.”

“It’s the playoffs, I’m just supporting the hometown team,” I brushed him off, pressing my lips to my glass to find the drink empty. I looked around for a waitress in a pathetic attempt to get out of the conversation, without luck I rose from the stool.

“Sit,” Taylor said, narrowing his eyes on me.

“I need a refill,” I whined and Taylor shook his head.

“You’re hiding something,” Zane accused, finally catching on.

“This is bullying, just so you know. You’re bullying me,” I said in a tight, nervous ramble as my throat grew dry. I didn’t want to tell them why I was obsessively watching the game, it was new and not serious. And definitely not older brother worthy.

“You’re turning red!” Zane pushed my shoulder and I snapped at him with my teeth. “She’s turning red…”

“There’s a guy,” Taylor lowered his voice as a waitress dropped our plates on the table.

“There’s a fucking guy!” Zane yelled and turned up to the TV with an excited gasp.

“You’re both overgrown toddlers, shut the fuck up,” I growled and tugged on Zane’s dress shirt to keep him in his chair.

“Who is it?” Taylor asked.

“It’s none of your business,” I said, knowing that the pushback for my short attitude would be worse.

“The pitcher?” Zane asked, watching the game and then searching for my reaction. “Nope,” he said looking back. “The shortstop!”

“She hates blondes,” Taylor grumbled but I could see him starting to get into the game and I hated it.

Zane was intelligent, quick and very observant.

It’s what made him a good lawyer but Taylor had always caught on quicker.

He was good with formulas, theories… he enjoyed knowing what made things tick.

Once he started to pay attention it would take him seconds to figure it out.

“It’s the catcher,” he said, turning slowly from the TV to look at me with a smug look on his face. “Isn’t it, Addy?”

“How do you know?” Zane asked and started to pick at his french fries.

“Tattoos, dark hair, he looks tall…” Taylor listed, and dropped his tone again. “Tell me I'm wrong and I’ll drop it.”

“I hate you,” I said, getting in his face with a frustrated grin .

“Omission!” Zane snapped his fingers at me. “What’s his name?”

“Jensen.” I spun my fork nervously into my pasta, and kept my eyes down. I didn’t come into the Hollow without ordering the Caper Lemon linguine. It was my comfort food and I was really glad I had a massive plate of it to lose my feelings in.

“That’s the name on the back of his jersey,” Taylor said, picking up his burger. “What’s his first name?”

“I don’t know, he goes by Jensen.” I shrugged.

“So you’re sitting here all worked up over a college baseball player and you don’t even know his first name?” Taylor questioned. “Adeline.”

“Don’t do the mom voice, I hate that voice, it makes me feel like I’m in trouble.” I scowled and shoved some food between my lips.

“You barely know the guy, you are in trouble,” Taylor scolded.

“Drop the snarly big brother routine,” I said to him, “I’ve been texting him for a bit now, he’s nice and I like him.”

“You’ve been texting him and you don’t even know his name?” Zane laughed and both Taylor and I shot him a death glare. “I just don’t believe you’re actually talking to him, that’s all!”

“I’m not in junior high you idiot, I can talk to boys without your approval,” I said to him and he stuck his tongue out at me.

“Prove it,” Zane said, throwing some more food in his mouth. “Prove that you’re talking to that guy and I’ll drop it.”

The chances of him dropping it were low. I flipped my phone over on the table, trying to shove it in my pocket before he got his hands on it but he was too fast and it was in his grip and lifted away from my reach.

“I’ll fucking put your ass on the ground, give me my phone back,” I warned through gritted teeth.

“You might be strong, but I can still kick your ass Addy,” Zane laughed and moved a little further away from me.

“That’s laughable!” I growled and slipped from my stool.

“You two are embarrassing,” Taylor said, sipping on his beer as we fought for dominance. “You’re going to get us kicked out,” he added when Brighton slapped the top of the bar with a hockey stick that he kept around to keep people from getting too rowdy.

“Sorry, Bright!” I was tempted to sucker punch Zane just because I could.

“Whatever the fuck that is, it isn’t talking!” Zane gasped at the messages he was reading and tossed my phone at me.

“What is it?” Taylor’s face contorted in worry.

“I want to wash my eyes out with acetone,” Zane whined.

“That’s what you get, asshole!” I punched him in the shoulder.

“No little sister should ever act like that,” he said, pushing his food away. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

“I’m a grown woman Zane,” I argued and shoved my phone into my pocket. “You’re such a baby.”

“That was disgusting!”

“I’m going to fuck him and it’s going to be great!” I argued back and Zane looked like he wanted to puke.

“Enough, both of you.” Taylor used his big brother voice before he looked directly at me. “Just be careful,” he said, ignoring the obnoxious gagging sounds that Zane was making beside me. “And for fuck sakes, figure out his first name before he turns out to be a serial killer or something.”

“Great,” I rolled my eyes, “good talk guys.”