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She taps the brakes too hard at the stop sign, sending us both lurching forward in our seats.When the seatbelt locks against my shoulder, I can’t stop the whimper-grunt of pain that escapes my chest.When I sit back in the seat again, sweat is breaking out on my lip.
“Sorry,” she says.
“It’s fine,” I wheeze, fighting to keep my breath even as the nausea from last night makes a reappearance.“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” She reaches out, touching the back of her hand to my forehead.“You’re freezing cold and sweating at the same time.”
“And your hair smells like…Italian dressing,” I say, swallowing hard.“The cheap kind.Not the good stuff.”
“Then your nose is broken.That marinade was homemade and smells nothing like Italian dressing,” she says evenly, as she continues to press her hand to different places on my face.“I’m concerned about how cold you are, Aaron.”
“I’m concerned that you’re going to get rear-ended if you don’t pull through the stop sign,” I say, grinning as the car behind us beeps its horn.“See?You’re the problem here, I’m fine.My blood pressure’s just a little low.Because of the drugs and the fact that I’m a superstar athlete with a mind-bogglingly low resting heart rate.Not that I like to brag.”
She rolls her eyes and lifts a hand to wave at the people behind us, muttering something about how annoying I am as she pulls through the intersection.When we’re back at cruising speed, she glances my way again.“Are you sure you’re okay?If you need to go back to the hospital or an urgent care or something, I can take you.I don’t have anything else to do tonight.Chase is at his dad’s.”
“No, I’m fine,” I say.“I promise.It’s just a little tight in the car.It’s making my shoulder flare up.I’ll be fine once we get to your place.”I pull in a breath, adding as a breezy afterthought, “The place where we fucked likewewere horny old people with only days left on earth.Remember that?”
“No one knows how many days they have left on earth,” she says in an equally breezy voice.“So really, shouldn’t we all be fucking like Delores and Slasher?Do you think his dick is pierced like his nose?Allegedly, my brother Drew had a dick piercing and the ladies in town loved it before he settled down with Tatum.Do you think Delores loves Slasher’s piercing?Do you think she’s going to buy him fatter, vaginal-wall-stimulating rings for his birthday?”
I gag again and wheeze, “You’re evil.Pure evil.I’d poke you in the leg with my finger if you were sitting on my good side.”
She grins like the wicked thing she is.“I’m just saying.I hope Delores is getting the kind of bedazzled dick she deserves.”
“Do you have bourbon at your house?I need a stiff drink.”
“You can’t have a stiff drink with painkillers.But I’ll let you have one beer with your steak, if you’re good and obey the rules of the house.”
“Which are?”I ask, arching a brow her way.
“One: Don’t fuck with my kitchen.If you take something from the fridge—mustard, mayo, a bag of lettuce—you put it back exactly where you found it.Two: Don’t fuck with my systems.Chase and I have a morning rhythm and it works for us.Trying to make that system more efficient or criticizing my parenting skills is a good way to end up back in the Old People Banging Zone real fast.”
My forehead furrows.“I would never criticize your parenting.All kidding aside, that would be a dick move.I’m not a dick, Mel.I’m really not.”
She shrugs, her eyes still locked on the road as she says, “Yeah, well, Ben has been going all in on the ‘constructive’ feedback lately.Maybe some of what he’s saying would work, but I am who I am, and I’m doing the best I can.Chase doesn’t mind if he goes to school wearing pajama bottoms with his sweater sometimes.”
“I’d wear pajama bottoms all the time if I were a kid,” I say, hating that Ben’s riding her ass.She’s obviously doing her best.Melissa always does her best.It’s a core feature of her personality.Always has been, ever since we were kids.
“Right?I’ll be putting my pajama pants on as soon as we walk through the door.”
“Hot,” I say, hoping a little flirting might lift her spirits.“You’re cute in baggy pants.”
“I am not,” she snaps.“Which brings me to the third and final rule: No talking about fucking.No flirting.No foreplay.It would be best if you forget I’m a woman and we can ride out the next few weeks as bros.”
I narrow my eyes at her profile.“Bros?”
“Bros,” she insists.
“Do you feel like I’m your bro?Would it be easy for you to forget I’m a man?”
“I’ve already forgotten,” she says.“Oh, and one more rule.You have to pee sitting down.I’m not about to wipe up a grown man’s pee.I already have enough toddler pee to deal with.”
I make a victorious sound that hurts a little as it emerges from my chest.“See!You can’t forget I’m a man.You’re thinking about my dick already.”
“Your dick in a peeing capacity, not a fun capacity.”
“So, you admit you had fun?”I ask, pushing on before she can get a word in, “Because I sure did.I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, honestly.And I sure as hell haven’t been naked with anyone else.”
Her gaze slides my way before darting back to the road.“You’re such a liar.”
