Page 51 of Already Callin’ You Mine

13

JACE

Presley Callahan is avoiding me.

A couple of weeks ago, I wouldn't have minded that. Actually, I probably would have rejoiced in it.

That was, however, before she threw up on me. Before I held her hair back as she continued to throw up. Before I tried to look away as I changed her shirt after she fell asleep on the couch. I might have failed a little bit at that last one.

I would have thought that all of those things—well, maybe not the last one, but everything else—would have been enough for things to have shifted between us. Gotten us to the point of at least maybe being cordial in the hallway when we see each other. Not saying we have to be besties, but, you know, I didn’t think that my actions were a cause for avoidance.

Then again, what do I know? Clearly nothing.

Other than after five days of zero contact—including leaving my messages on read—I kind of miss her. In the I-just-want-to-know-that-she-recovered-okay kind of way. The I-still-have-a-couple-really-good-comebacks-up-my-sleeve-for-our-next-verbal-sparring-session kind of way. That’s all.

I definitely miss Otis though. Little Man is a seriously cool dude, and getting to hang out with him watching TV, playing with trains, and eating snacks might just be the best weekend I’ve had in a long time. And despite what his mama thinks, Curious George isn’t that bad.

Don’t tell my best friend or my brothers that though. I’ll never hear the end of it.

“You made it!” Gus exclaims, slapping a hand on my shoulder as I belly up to the bar at Pour Decisions.

I nod, sighing heavily, my brain overrun with thoughts of Presley. Not what I should be thinking about as I walk into my brother’s bar, but more than a normal amount of time in the last week, my thoughts have involved her in some way. So of course I can’t help but think of her now. An association I’m going to need to break—STAT.

“What? And disobey the women who just kicked me out of my own house by not showing up?” I joke.

“It’s my house,” Gus corrects me. “And we gave you plenty of warning that you were being evicted post wedding.”

Fair point.

Gus is the one who built and has been paying the mortgage—with the help of the rent I was paying him— on the little cottage that he, Hux, and I shared for a number of years before he and Hux found their brides and settled down earlier this year. I adore Margeaux and no part of me blames her for laying down the edict that the house was theirs—and theirs alone—post wedding. Frankly, it was more than a little crowded after Margeaux and Dolly moved in anyway. Still didn’t make having to pack up all my shit and find a new place to live any easier. Or fun.

“Still not risking pissing off the next Hayes matriarch.”

Gus rolls his eyes, acting like he hates that comment, but I can see the secret little smile in the curl of his lips. He likes when we joke about that. Margeaux, on the other hand, fucking hates it. And she will cut you if you say it around her.

“Glad to know my wife wields so much power.”

A beer appears in front of me, and I look up to find a smirking Milo standing there, his flannel shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, arms spread wide like he’s posing for a magazine cover.

“Margeaux the only reason you showed up tonight?” he asks, not bothering with a greeting.

I take a long sip of the beer, trying to figure out what he’s really asking. Question is simple enough on the surface, but the expression on his face tells me it’s deeper than that.

“Beer’s not bad either.”

“Well, if it isn’t the last man standing,” Anton comments, sidling up behind me.

I twist to look at him, waiting for more commentary. Ever since he got engaged a couple of weeks ago, he’s loved throwing it in my face that I’m the last single sibling. Especially since we were all betting the last one of us to take the plunge would be him. At least until Dr. Sawyer Brown showed up and proved that love—and fate—have their own way of doing things.

“Jealous?” I quip back.

“Not at all.”

I laugh, more than a little jealous of the love that is radiating off him. I’m happy for my siblings and their counterparts, enjoying watching our family grow exponentially like this. It’ll be even faster once they all start popping out babies. There is a part of me that is envious of them too. I want that—always have.

In order to find it though, I need to stop thinking about Presley Callahan.

“C’mon, saved you a spot at the big table outside,” Anton says, nodding toward the grassy area just beyond the large garage-style door at the end of the bar. Milo and Brandt expanded a couple of years ago, putting up a picnic shelter cover and some tables in the space between the taproom and the brewery, giving Pour Decisions an outside space for people to hang out.