AllFreeNovel
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"Because things are too charged between the two of you. She and John have no history, no connection. In her mind, he's safe."
My hands ball tight on my thighs. “I keep her safe. I protect her. Not him."
He frowns and rubs the back of his neck, the same way he does when he's stressed. "I don't think it's a physical safe. I think it's an emotional safe. She likes you brother, a lot. But the two of you have rushed into this. You didn't spend any time dating, or really getting to know each other. Now she's living with you and has your ring on her finger. Things are bound to be weird." He tilts his head, looking at me with narrowed eyes. "Be honest. It’s a little weird for you too, isn't it?"
"Maybe," I mutter. "I have to wear underwear all the time because she's there."
Ransom drops his head on the table, laughing. "Fuck, brother. No chance to free-ball it? That's so sad."
"I know. I haven't researched it, but I'm pretty sure letting your junk air out is a good thing.”
Ransom laughs harder. I tune him out, so I can watch Mia swoop back to the kitchen and grab another bite of food. Mashed potatoes this time, I think. Then she's off on another loop with the dog.
"What's so funny," Zach asks, sitting on my other side and taking a sip of beer.
"Free-balling," I mutter, watching Janey laugh at something John says. I really don't like him. I liked him before, but not anymore.
Zach chokes on his beer. He slams the bottle on the table and pounds his chest coughing. His face is red, but if you're coughing, you're breathing, so I ignore him and focus back on Janey.
"Fuck," he wheezes. Ransom laughs harder. "What the hell does free-balling have to do with anything?"
"Jonas is having a little trouble adjusting to marriage. He misses swinging free, now that he has to wear underwear around his wife," Ransom says.
Zach mutters to himself, and picks up his beer. "I guess I get it. The goal is to be more naked with your wife, not less."
"Exactly," I mutter, standing from my spot at the table. John and Janey are standing back, looking at all the food laid out on the island. "Supper's ready."
As always, it's controlled chaos. The women and Mia get their food first, then the rest of us form a sort of line — we're still working on an actual line — and fill our plates like it's our last meal. John stands on the other side of the island, arms crossed. His eyes get wider and wider as he watches the massive amounts of food he prepared disappear. Finally, he dishes up a plate for himself and settles at the table on the other side of Janey. She's sandwiched in by the two of us.
There are moans and groans coming from around the table. I take a little bite of some orange stuff — so good — and dive in.
"Johnny, did you really learn to cook this well in prison?" Maverick asks between bites. Everyone tilts their heads to hear his response.
"John," I correct. "He likes to be called John."
John meets my eyes for a second, then nods in Maverick's direction. "Yeah. We didn't always have a lot of variety. It was a challenge to make things taste good. I liked combining different flavors and seeing what I could do. After a while, it became my regular duty spot."
A little snicker down the table. "Doody spot."
John's lips twitch, fighting a smile, and he focuses back on his meal. Around the table there are smiles, and laughter, happy groans of full bellies.
Everyone I love is in this room. Having them all together, happy and safe lets me breathe free, the worry I usually carry with me nowhere in sight.
Janey's plate is nearly empty so I lean in close. "Can I get you more food? The orange stuff is very good. I could get you more of that."
She turns her head, meeting my eyes. "Yams," she says, smiling one of her real smiles at me. It makes me want to wiggle in my chair. "You haven't had them before?"
"I have no idea," I tell her honestly.
"Wait...what? You don't know if you've eaten yams before?"
"I don't pay a lot of attention to food."
She eyes my scraped clean plate. I could go for seconds, but I wait to make sure the women have all had their fill. "For someone who doesn't pay much attention to food, you sure eat a lot."
She's leaning into my space, and I make my move. I throw my arms up, and yawn, then lower my arms, making sure to drop one on the back of Janey's chair. That was smooth, just like in the movies.
Janey shakes her head and leans in even further until her shoulder is pressing into my armpit. She smells so good. How has Janey's smell become my favorite so quickly? It's surpassed even Mia's sweaty head smell, and that one’s a good one. Janey arches her brow, and I remember that she's waiting for an answer.
