Slow Grind (Men of Mornington Book 1)

by Missy Johnson

  “You don’t recognise me at all, do you?” I ask. Her eyes widen in shock, but she recovers quickly, leaning over to peck me on the cheek.

  “Of course I do, Aubrey,” she says. “It’s good to see you.” She pushes her chestnut locks away from her face, the wind having blown them all around. Moving closer to me, no doubt just in case someone who runs in the same circle as her notices she’s picking up a younger, mirror image of herself, she attempts to kiss me. I back away, giving a silent cue she picks up on quickly.

  I nod in response to her welcome and follow her over to her car. I want to laugh; we can’t even fill a few minutes with small talk, even after nearly ten years without seeing each other. We reach her car, and after loading my stuff in the boot, I go to get in the passenger seat. Only it’s not the passenger seat; it’s the driver’s. Shaking my head at how much I’ve really forgotten, I move around to the other side of the car and climb in the appropriate seat and fasten my buckle.

  Instead of chatting and catching up, which I’m too nervous to do anyway, the hour ride back to her house is spent listening to an audio book about dealing with children with cancer. I pick up the cover to the book and laugh. It was written by the Royal Children’s Hospital. I don’t have the heart to tell her Max is a twenty-seven-year-old man and not a little boy.

  She pulls the car into the driveway, and the house is exactly how I remember it—right down to the peeling paintwork on the exterior weatherboards and the seventies-style shutters. The front lawn is overgrown and in need of some attention, as is the side gate which is hanging from a single hinge. I glance at Mum. For someone who is so anal about her appearance, she’s certainly let this place go. Life must really be taking its toll.

  “Your brother’s in his old room. We decided he should stay here for as long as he needs, and we’ve put his apartment on the market because we can’t cope with the overdue bills anymore.”

  That’s right. Max had his own apartment. Granted, I didn’t live with Dad anymore, but I had a single room in a dorm and a shared bathroom while Max had his own, honest-to-God apartment. I’m both jealous and sad, because even though that kind of independence is nowhere in my foreseeable future, it would be a thousand times worse to have it taken away from you.

  “Thanks.” Grabbing my suitcase, I follow her into the house. I walk up the staircase and drop my bag outside my old bedroom. Pausing for a brief moment, I wonder if it’s still my bedroom or if she’s changed it to a gym or something equally as cliché. Probably the day I left. I pass by the bathroom connecting mine and Max’s room and pause just outside his door. Knocking softly, his familiar voice answers.

  “Come in.”

  Turning the handle, I’m about to go in when I hear another voice. It’s strange but familiar at the same time, but for the life of me, I can’t place it. In the end, curiosity gets the better of me, and I go inside.

  “Hey there, handsome.” I walk over to his bed, forgetting for a moment we’re not alone, and throw my arms around him. “All this to get me home, huh?” I joke, and he smiles.

  “You’ve caught me. The jig is up, everyone. You can come out now,” he teases back, and the tension in my body starts to fade. Cancer or not, my brother is still my brother.

  “Two things,” I begin. “How are you feeling? And I’m still so pissed you didn’t tell me.”

  “I’m all right.” He manages another smile, but this one doesn’t meet his eyes. I can tell he’s in more pain than he wants me to know. “I have good days and bad days. Today’s somewhere in the middle. And I told you, I didn’t want you fussing over this until there was something to fuss about. You’ll forgive me one day.”

  “I’ve already forgiven you.” I climb onto his bed and crawl into his arms, his warmth comforting. Closing my eyes, I pretend for a moment he’s not sick, but his shallow breathing forces me back to reality. “I’m scared,” I whisper, kissing his hand.

  “Me, too, Aubs. We’ll figure it out.”

  “We’re all in this together.” I turn my head in the direction of the strong, sexy voice, locking on a pair of ice-blue eyes I’d recognise anywhere. My heart pounds as I take the rest of him in, my eyes travelling over his long, muscular frame. He leans casually against the wall, his hands shoved in the pockets of his faded jeans. He smiles at me, and I suddenly feel like I’m twelve years old again, yearning for a boy who can never love me back.

  “Hey, Andrew,” I stutter, scurrying off the bed. “It’s been a while.”

  “I’d say so. It’s Drew now.” He lets out a low whistle and shakes his head. “Little Aubrey is all grown up,” he drawls, and the pure sex oozing off his voice is almost enough to take out my knees. The only thing saving me is my sick brother lying down on the bed next to me.

  “I’m getting there,” I mumble, my mouth dry. I can feel the heat in my cheeks as I continue to stare into his eyes. I try to look away, but it’s as if they have me captured in their depths. “Thanks for being here. It means a lot. There aren’t many childhood memories without you in them. It’s nice to see you’re still around pestering my brother.”

  “Like I said, we’re in this together. The guys and I think we’ve found something, but it’s gonna take a little more research to see if we can pull it off. It’ll be a miracle, but it’s worth a shot.”

  “If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. I’m all about Team Max.”

  “You guys do know Max is right here, right?”

  “Oh shut up, ya big pussy. We know exactly where you are. Just sit back and let us handle this, okay?” Drew orders.

  “Yeah,” I chime in. “Let us take care of you for a change, you big pussy.” I stutter on the word pussy, the feeling I did something wrong hitting me like a bag of bricks. The last time I was here, I was just a child. Now, I’m standing in my brother’s room, calling him a pussy, no less. Times sure have changed.

  Max rolls his eyes in true Max fashion and flicks on the TV, ignoring both Drew and me. Drew moves closer toward the bed and stops at the end, playfully slapping Max’s foot.

  “How’s Emma?” I ask him. I feel awkward even asking, considering how I just dropped all contact with her. I hadn’t even meant to do it, but after everything that was happening in my life…I sigh. I can’t even admit the truth to myself. I cut her out because the reminder of Drew was too much to cope with.

  “She’s good. She’s rapt you’re back, Aubs. She missed you. We all did.”

  The heat in my cheeks starts up again. He missed me. Like a friend. The only way you can miss your best mate’s little sister.

  “I’ve gotta get going. The guys are waiting.” Drew turns to me. “I’ll catch up with you later. Text me your number on Max’s phone, so I can pass it on to Em.”

  “I’m gonna leave you, too,” I say to Max. “I’m going to unpack and come back after I rest a little. The flight was brutal, and I still haven’t gotten over the fact I left on Sunday, and now it’s Tuesday.” I give Max a quick kiss on the head as he turns to Drew.

  “All right, mate, I’ll see you soon. Maybe next time I’ll be able to stomach a drink.” He smiles, his eyes exhausted. “Last round of chemo was yesterday. Soon enough I’ll be able to throw a few back with you guys. The one upside to this, I guess.”

  Drew makes his way to me and throws me into a hug. Caught off guard, I awkwardly hug him back, trying not to cringe as he makes no attempts to hide the fact he’s checking me out.

  “Little Aubs … all grown up,” he mutters again, shaking his head. He gives me a sly grin and makes his way out the door. I’m both thrilled and embarrassed by his reaction to seeing me.

  Back down the hall, I pick up my suitcase and step into my old bedroom. I’m happily surprised when I see it’s exactly how I left it, with the exception of a larger bed replacing the twin-sized one I remember and a new paint colour on the wall—the neutral grey much different than the candy pink I remember.

  I take out my phone and throw myself on the bed. Sighing, I sw
itch it on. In my rush of leaving the airport, I forgot to turn it on when I got off the plane. Almost right away I see I have five messages—four from Nate and one from Jacey. I click on Jacey’s, not in the mood to deal with Nate’s crap right now.

  Jacey: Just so you know, I’ve survived the first day of looking after Louie. Hope you’re okay, call me if you need me x

  I grin and put my phone down, still not ready to deal with Nate. All I want now is a few hours of sleep so I can feel somewhat human. Climbing off the bed, I strip off my clothes and put my watch on the dressing table. I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror and wince. I’m a mess. My hair is ridiculous, standing up at all angles, and why I thought it was a good idea to put makeup on before a twelve-hour flight—along with a four-hour stopover—I’ll never know. I look like a friggin’ raccoon. No wonder Drew was staring at me. I thought he was checking me out, but more likely he was wondering why the hell I looked like I’d just crawled out from a sewer.

  I can’t think about that now. I need to figure out how to help Max, and I can’t do it running on empty. Climbing under the thick, down comforter, I cuddle it up to my neck and wait until I fall asleep.

  Just as my exhaustion is about to get the better of me, the bathroom door from Max’s side opens and closes. Tears roll down my cheeks as he expels whatever’s in his stomach and groans in pain. I want so badly to go in there and take care of him like I did when we were younger, but I can’t make myself get up. Instead, I lie there and soak the pillow. From what I remember—and it’s been a while—chemo, the medicine that’s supposed to kill cancer, feels like it’s killing you in the process. We know it’s poison. We know its intended purpose. I just hate that Max has to go through this to have a chance at getting better. It always hits him like a freight train during the whole treatment. You somehow trick your body into believing it’s going to be fine. Then wham! The chemo curse strikes.

  A few moments later, Max calls for my mum and she’s quickly by his side. A pang of jealousy hits as I realise he’s not called for me, but I push it aside and listen to their brief conversation.

  “I can give you some of the nausea medication the doctor prescribed?” my mother offers.

  “I couldn’t keep it down if I wanted to, Mum. Please, just help me clean up this mess before Aubrey wakes up.”

  “Don’t worry about it, honey, I’ll take care of it. Go lie down. All this ruckus and she’s going to wake before I get a chance.”

  “Thanks for calling her. I didn’t realise how seeing her face would make me feel better.” My heart warms and through the tears, I smile. I’ve never doubted Max loved me—more than himself on most days—but to hear his candid declaration drives home the point that I’ve missed so much, and even on his worst days, he still needs his kid sister.

  “I’m just upset you made me wait this long. All those times you told me to let her be, I should have made contact. I missed my daughter,” she says wistfully. My eyes widen. She missed me? The person who couldn’t stand to be within a few feet of me without giving me a nasty glare?

  “I know you did, Mum. She’s here now, and she’ll see you’re not the same person you were a decade ago, just like she’s not the same.”

  “Do you think she still loves me?” Mum asks a little louder, and I hear the springs on Max’s mattress squeal under his weight. The water starts running in the bathroom.

  “I don’t think you ever stop loving your parents. She’s upset and hurt. And you didn’t do much to make her feel welcome after everything that happened. You have a lot of making up to do.”

  “I know I do, and I will.”

  “You better. You promised.” If this is some kind of death-bed promise and he’s further gone than I’ve been led to believe, I’m going to be pissed.

  A few moments later, the water stops running, Max’s side of the bathroom door closes again, and our wing of the house remains quiet until Max’s soft snores fill the air. Knowing he’s safe, comfortable and resting, I’m finally able to get some sleep. Within no time, I drift off to sleep in my old room surrounded by old memories, both good and bad.

  Chapter Five

  Drew

  I push my way back into Max’s room and swoop up my jacket in my arm. I’m trying not to wake him, but I don’t do a very good job. His eyes flutter open, and he looks at me, confused.

  “Forgot my jacket,” I explain with a chuckle. I’d gotten halfway home before I’d realised. If my phone wasn’t in the pocket of the damn thing, I would’ve just left it there. “And it’s cold as fuck out there. Speaking of which, what the fuck was your sister thinking, wearing a skirt? Did she get her seasons mixed up?”

  “Probably,” Max says, managing a smile. He stifles a yawn and shifts onto his side. He looks even worse than he did five minutes ago if that’s even possible. “In her defence, she did have to pack in a hurry to get out here. Thanks to my mum and her big mouth. Either way, it’s great to see her.”

  “I’ll say,” I mutter. I shake my head and laugh, unable to get the image of her in that tiny skirt out of my head. Holy fucking shit, when did that happen? And where the hell have I been? How did I have no idea Max’s little sister is such a fucking angel? I would’ve been hounding him to let me come on all those trips to America. I grin—her image in my head again. Those legs would give Miranda Kerr a run for her money. I chuckle and shake my head. This is fucking crazy.

  Glancing to my left, I notice Max watching me strangely.

  “Man, no. Just no. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not happening, okay?” he says in a strained voice. I can’t help but smirk because as hard as the guy is trying to be authoritative, he sounds like a little girl begging me not to take away her stuffed toy.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I grin. I reach forward and throw a chip in my mouth, but he continues to scowl at me. “You okay there, Max? Is it that time of the month? Do you need something for the cramping and bloating? I didn’t know you were a chick or something.”

  “Or something. I’ll kick your fucking arse,” he grumbles, glaring at me. “You know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about, Drew. My sister. I saw the way you looked at each other.”

  I straighten up. She was looking at me? Why does that make me feel so damn good? Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised. Like all of Em’s little friends, I’m pretty sure she had a crush on me back then. It was quite funny when I’d go pick up Em—and sometimes Aubrey—from school after I got my licence. Em suddenly became way more popular, and I was expected to drive dozens of pre-teen girls everywhere.

  “Max, I’m not going to hit your sister up. Besides the fact she’s too young for me—”

  “Way too young,” Max interjects.

  “I don’t have time for another girl in my life right now. I’m already trying to get rid of the one I have.” Seriously, though, how hard is it to take a hint? Apparently, for Darla, it’s near impossible. I might have to take Nash up on his offer to take Darla off my hands. Let him deal with her crazy for a little while.

  “Good. Well, make sure it stays that way,” he warns. He pulls out that look, and I groan. It’s a look he reserves for wanting me to feel bad about how shitty a friend I am in comparison to him. He’s helped me out so many times I’ve lost count. I know, me getting myself into trouble is hard to believe, but it happens a lot. “I’m serious, Drew. I need to know you won’t try anything. I don’t need to be worrying about that on top of everything else. Promise me you’re not gonna try anything.”

  “You got my word,” I promise him. Seriously, the guy’s worrying about nothing. I put my jacket on and take out my keys. “And how come you’re not having this conversation with her?”

  “Because I already know she’s going to be a problem,” he mutters. “My sister hates being told what to do, so the more I tell her not to do something, the more she’ll do it.” I shake my head and walk over to the stairs, waving at him as I leave.

  “You have to be the adult here,” he
yells after me.

  Ms. Rosewood greets me as I reach the front door, a drunken smile plastered on her face. She holds a glass of wine, and from her glazed eyes I know it’s not her first glass. Probably not even her first bottle.

  “Leaving so soon?” she asks, putting her hand on my chest. I laugh and step back. Though Max didn’t say anything about his mum… No, I can’t ever go back to that. Ever.

  I’ve kept that secret once before; I can’t do it a second time.

  “Yeah, sorry, Ms. Rosewood, early start in the morning.”

  “You’re still doing that, uh, what was it?” she murmurs to herself, her expression thoughtful.

  “Welding,” I offer when it’s clear she has no idea what I do for a living.

  “Welding.” She smiles, wetting her heavily applied lips. “You must get awfully hot and sweaty under all that gear,” she says, her eyes on my chest. I laugh, inching further away from her. I have a pretty good idea what she’s thinking right now, and it isn’t going to happen.

  “Sure do. I gotta get going now, Ms. Rosewood. I’ll see you around.” I move slowly as to not offend her when I peel her fingers from my pecks, and her hand lazily falls to her side.

  “You could stay for a drink or two,” she purrs, swirling the diminishing red liquid in her glass.

  “I’d love to, really, but I have to get home. Next time?” I lie.

  “Anytime, Andrew. See you around.” She tosses a wink my way, and I suddenly feel dirty. I have no problem getting chicks my own age, but what is it about these middle-aged women? Why, all of a sudden, am I on their radar? Shouldn’t they be speed dating or making online dating profiles instead of chasing after men at least half their age? And people think older men are the perverts. Pfft, if they could only see what I deal with on a daily basis. Between Ms. Rosewood and Darla, I’ve hit my quota for girls over thirty.