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His back stiffens, and he starts turning away, but Joel drops the spoon he’s been using to mix up whatever it is he’s mixing and grabs him around the neck.
“Hold up, fucker. It’s okay.”
What just happened?
I’m half out of my chair already, blood rushing in my ears. “What did I say? I didn’t mean to upset anyone.”
“It’s not you, Candy Pop.” Jet struggles to shove Joel off. He fails and sighs, leaning into the other man. “I’m fine.”
“You could talk to me,” Joel suggests. “About your family.”
“Nah. I’m too sober for this shit.” Jet glances at me and away, but not before I see a shadow cross his gaze.
“Fucker…” Joel shakes his head and sighs. “Then let’s cook. You chop up the onions, I hope they make you fucking cry, and Candy…” He waves a hand at me imperiously, and I smile uncertainly as I walk to take my place on his other side. “You cut up the bell peppers while I find the rest of the ingredients.”
“What are we making?” I ask, trying not to stare at Jet’s somber profile, or his sexy body—or Joel’s for that matter. Besides, chopping the red bell pepper requires all my attention, unless I want to chop off my fingers, too. This knife’s sharp.
“Chili con carne, Joel style.” He’s rummaging in the fridge, and I can’t help but look at his firm ass.
“Ow.” Didn’t I know it? A line of blood appears on my finger. “Shit.”
“Let me see that.” Jet grabs my hand. “You’ll survive. Let me bring you a Band-Aid.”
“You okay, girl?” Joel stares from me to Jet and back. “You sure? You okay about everything?”
“Uh huh.” I nod, smiling. “Okay about everything. Hey, what about the bananas? Are we going to eat those?”
“That’s desert. With vanilla ice cream. Meanwhile…” He grabs a pot and puts it on the stove. “Wanna learn how to make my patented chili? Watch and learn, baby girl. Watch and learn.”
***
After the heavenly chili and the divine dessert, I pass out again—more gradually this time—curled up on the couch between them. Thank God I remembered to text Brylee earlier about not going home tonight.
I doze off on Joel’s padded shoulder, then wake up at night to find my head on Jet’s leg. Next time I wake up I’m sandwiched between them—and the next time, Jet is gone.
I know he’s gone because Joel is facing me, snoring softly, and there’s nobody else on the couch with us.
“Joel.” I hesitate, then shake his shoulder. “Wake up.”
“Mmf?” He blinks owlishly at me. He’s resting his head on his bulging biceps, and my mouth waters just a little. “Wha?”
“Jet. He’s gone.”
“Gone where?” He sits up, scanning the dim room. “He left the apartment?”
“I don’t know. He’s not with us here, on the couch.”
“Shit.” He slumps back, lies down beside me. “Jet doesn’t sleep much. He’s probably drawing, or playing games on his phone or something.”
“Why?”
Joel shrugs, brows pulling together in a frown. “Nightmares. Stress. Anxiety.”
“Oh.” I worry my lip between my teeth. “Can I help?”
Joel shakes his head in the negative. “I don’t know.”
It’s way too early in the morning to think straight. The sky is still dark outside the windows, and it’s chilly. I burrow closer to Joel for warmth, and he throws an arm over me, drawing me closer to his chest. He’s sporting some morning wood, but he doesn’t seem to be thinking of anything sexual as he lies there, gaze distant as if thinking, his arm heavy over my ribs.
