Our Love Unhinged (Reluctant Hearts Book 4)

by Brighton Walsh

  He laughs, that low, satisfied male sound that both grates on my nerves and makes me wish I had a date tonight. “Not me. Can’t say as much for your best friend, though.”

  “What can’t you say for me?” Tessa walks into the living room and sits next to me on the couch. Her clothes aren’t rumpled like Jason’s are, but her short hair is definitely of the freshly fucked variety. And even the blue stripe running through said hair can’t distract from eyes so bright, they might as well be flashlights.

  “Apparently he fucked the voice right out of you. But since you’re speaking fine, looks like Little Jason’s performance wasn’t quite up to snuff. There are pills for that, you know,” I call over my shoulder.

  Jason walks—struts, really—into the living room, one hundred percent cocky male. “First of all, there’s nothing little about my cock.” I scoff and roll my eyes, but he talks right over my interruption. “Second, if I wanted her to be hoarse, she would be. I was being considerate because I knew you were out here.”

  Tessa’s eyes bug out. “You were here the whole time?” “Nearly.” She drops her head into her hands and groans, then glares at Jason, her face flaming. “And you knew? God, why didn’t you tell me?” Bringing her attention back to me, she says, “I’m sorry. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have let him go for the second round.”

  “And that is exactly why I didn’t tell you.” And then he ignores us as he drops to the couch and grabs the remote, switching off the show I had on and changing it to something mind-numbingly boring.

  Tessa turns toward me on the couch, tucking one of her legs under the other. “But seriously, I’m sorry.”

  “But seriously, it’s okay. Not like it’s the first time I’ve heard you two going at it. I do expect that diagram of his cock now, though.” I glance over Tessa’s shoulder and see Jason shrug.

  “Don’t look at him,” she says. “He doesn’t care who sees his junk. He’d put it in the Hall of Fame if he could.”

  I snort. “Like it could be in there.”

  “Just wait for the diagram, Paige.” He shoots me a wink. “Just wait.”

  Reaching into my purse, I pull out a small notebook and a pen and shove it at Tessa. “You heard the man. If this isn’t better than those GIFs I absolutely do not have saved on my computer, I’m going to be very disappointed.”

  Instead of gracing me with the illustration of Jason’s junk, she rolls her eyes and tucks the pen and paper back into my purse. “So why are you here? We didn’t have a girls’ night planned, did we?”

  “Not officially, but we’re sure as shit going out. We have to celebrate.”

  “Yeah?” she asks with a smile. “What are we celebrating?”

  “I got the internship!”

  “You—wait.” Tessa’s bright smile drops as she furrows her brow. “You told me on Tuesday you got the internship.”

  I wave my hand at her. “Semantics. I got the official call this afternoon, and that means we are going out dancing and drinking and whatever other shenanigans we can get into.”

  She glances at Jason. “We don’t have anything going since Haley’s staying with my brother, do we?”

  “Nah. If you guys go out, I think I’ll head over to Adam’s. He’s been bitching about his mom doing his laundry and shoving food in his face at every turn. And I’ll be honest…I could really go for some pizza rolls and apple pie. I don’t know why he doesn’t appreciate that more. Ungrateful little bastard.”

  They continue talking, discussing details, but all I can focus on is hearing it confirmed that Adam is home. Home. As in, here in my town. Close enough that I could run into him at the grocery store or the movie theater. Close enough that I could call him up for a booty call and have him at my place in fifteen minutes, tops.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Tessa mentioned back around Christmastime that Adam’s parents’ business wasn’t doing well. In the months since then, there’s been talk about him coming back to help, but that’s all it was. Talk. It had never been confirmed—not to me. Though why would it be? As far as Tessa knows, Adam is just the best friend to her boyfriend and her brother. He’s just the guy she practically grew up with.

  Definitely not the guy who was her best friend’s one-night stand.

  I also might have, maybe, made Tessa think I hate Adam, so she never talks about him when I’m around. I thought that was self-preservation, but it turns out that was just me burying my head in the sand, because now I’m blindsided, having had no time at all to prepare.

  God. I’m going to see him.

  With our small circles connecting so intricately, there’s absolutely no hope that I can avoid him indefinitely. I tune into Tessa and Jason’s conversation just when she mentions the six of us going out to celebrate my internship and Adam’s homecoming.

  “I know you don’t like him,” she says, “but maybe you just got off on the wrong foot. I really think you’d get along if you’d give him a chance.”

  And that’s exactly what has my hackles up, what has my defenses set to a Code Red status. Because giving a chance to a guy I had a one-night stand with? That’s a big, fat nope.

  adam

  Being here should fill me with ease, or at the very least a sense of bittersweet nostalgia. And I guess it does. I love my childhood home. No matter what ups and downs my parents’ shop faced as I was growing up, home was always perfect—Mom made sure of that, never letting the downs of the business bleed into our home life while we were kids.

  I’ve loved coming back over breaks from college and during brief stays since I started my job a couple years ago. There was always an expiration date on those visits, though. And knowing my time here was only a blip in the grand scheme of things, it was easier to take my mom’s pampering—hell, I enjoyed it. But now? Knowing I’m here for the foreseeable future, stuck in a bedroom forever preserved to my junior year of high school—the last time my mom redecorated it because the store was having a great year—is un-fucking-bearable. It’s made that pampering suddenly feel a lot like smothering.

  And even thinking that makes me feel like an ungrateful douchebag, because what twenty-five-year-old guy doesn’t want home-cooked meals every night and his laundry done for him?

  This one, apparently.

  “Adam, honey?” my mom calls from down the hall. “Jason is here to see you!”

  It’s like high school all over again.

  “I’m too old for this shit,” I grumble as I open my bedroom door and head down the hall to the living room. Jase is sitting on the arm of the floral couch my parents have had forever, bullshitting with my dad who’s stretched out in his recliner.

  “Haley needs a bigger bike, so we’ll probably swing in to the shop sometime this week so she can pick something out. You have anything with unicorns and shit on it?”

  “I’m not sure about the shit part, but probably some unicorns or princesses or something.”

  Jason laughs. “She’ll probably like your version better.”

  “Oh! We have some glitter tassels I bet she’d love,” mom offers from her corner of the couch.

  “If it sparkles, that girl is all over it.” Jason turns around and lifts his chin in acknowledgment. “Hey, man. Tessa’s out with Paige, so I thought I’d swing by and see what you were up to.”

  I try not to show any kind of reaction at the mention of Paige’s name, and since Jase’s eyes don’t narrow, apparently I’m successful. I just pray no one glances south, because the mere sound of her name has my dick twitching in my jeans, memories of what happened all those months ago at the forefront of my mind. Clearing my throat, I say, “Not much. Just got home a while ago.”

  Mom cuts in, “He’s been working so hard at the shop. There before we get in and stays well after we leave. The boy never even takes a lunch break, just eating what I packed him in the office.” Her admonishment is tinged with pride, and I can’t help the warmth that spreads through my chest when I hear it. Even though my parent
s never forced me to come back and help, it still feels a little like I didn’t have much choice. If I didn’t come, who was going to?

  “Well, you boys don’t want to hang out here all night with us old people,” she says. “Why don’t you head back to Adam’s room, and I’ll bring in some snacks for you.”

  Jase grins, and I should, too. On any other day, it would be a nice, normal offer. Today, however, after Mom flew into my bedroom this morning to set out my newly ironed clothes for me, and after I ate a bagged lunch consisting of a ham and cheese sandwich—sans crust because I didn’t like them when I was a kid—and apple slices, and after I found my supply of boxer briefs freshly washed and folded on my bed when I got home, it grates on my goddamn nerves. I have to take a few deep breaths to stop myself from snapping, because I don’t snap. I don’t lose my temper in general. It takes a lot to piss me off, to irritate me even a little, but I’m there, and I have been since day-fucking-two in the Reid house.

  Jase doesn’t say anything until we’re behind the closed door of my bedroom. He goes to the gaming rocker set up in front of the TV, sprawling in it as he grabs a baseball and tosses it in the air. “What’s on the menu tonight for snacks? Is it pizza rolls? Please, sweet sparkling Jesus, tell me it’s pizza rolls.”

  I grab the other chair and move it over next to him, then pull out a game controller for myself and toss the other to him, not looking to see where it flies as I sit down.

  “The fuck, man?” He fumbles the baseball trying to catch the controller.

  I flip through my games, finding one where I can get out the most aggression. “Since you’re so excited about the food, maybe you should come live here, and I’ll move in with Tess. If you made a list, I bet Mom would make you whatever you wanted.”

  “Aw, is the honeymoon over? I sense a little hostility in your tone. It hasn’t even been a week yet.”

  Before I can answer him, a knock sounds at the door. “Honey? I’ve got some snacks for you boys.”

  Jase looks at me, then a shit-eating grin spreads across his face. “Come on in, Mom! I’m freakin’ famished.”

  She smiles as she opens the door and carries in a tray, setting it down between us.

  Just like in high school.

  “Pizza rolls are in the oven. I’ll bring them in as soon as they’re done, but I thought you could use a little something to tide you over until then.”

  “Have I told you I love you today, Judy?” Jase grabs a chip from the bowl and scoops up some of my mom’s homemade salsa with it.

  Mom beams, her cheeks turning pink at the same time my dad yells down the hall, “Quit hitting on my wife, Jason!”

  “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He winks at my mom—the same mom he’s called Mom since we became friends more than fifteen years ago—and takes another bite. “Outstanding as always, Mom,” he says around a mouthful of food.

  She waves off his compliment and heads out of my room. “I’ll bring in the pizza rolls when they’re done. You boys have fun.”

  As soon as the door snicks shut, I blow out a breath and sink back into my chair, queuing up the game. Maybe it’ll do my mood some good to blow shit up since Jase isn’t doing it—not with that shit-eating grin on his face as he shovels chips in his mouth.

  “What do you have to be so happy about?” I ask. “You’re here with me which means you’re not getting laid tonight.”

  His grin gets larger, if possible. “Already got laid, man. Twice.”

  “Bragger.”

  He shrugs. “You’re the one who brought it up, not me. And why the hell wouldn’t I be smiling? I have homemade salsa, homemade guac, pizza rolls on their way, and if my nose is not mistaken, I do believe there are some cookies out there with my name on them.”

  “You should definitely just move in. Trade places with me. You’re a lot happier about this than I am.”

  “As much as I love your mom’s cooking, I love Tess more. Can’t do it. I’ll just come here and intrude weekly…okay, daily.” He scoops some guacamole on a chip. “But, seriously, I don’t get why you’re not thrilled with this situation.”

  “You wanna know why?” I blow out a deep breath and lean back on the rocker. “This morning, she barged in here to drop off the clothes she picked out for me to wear to the shop today. After she’d ironed them.”

  “Still not seeing the problem. So she picked out your clothes.” He shrugs. “At least she ironed them. I’d kill for Tessa to iron my shit for me. She tells me to fuck off.”

  “Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be bad if your girlfriend caught you rubbing one out. My mom walking in on me doing it?” I shudder all over again, reliving the mortification I felt and the same mortification I saw spread across her face when she realized what I was doing.

  He stares at me for a minute, slack-jawed, then he barks out a laugh and continues until he starts choking on a chip. Serves him right.

  “It’s not funny, assbag.” I punch his shoulder. Hard. “I can’t even jack off, for fuck’s sake. What kind of life is that for a twenty-five-year-old guy? I don’t care how many apple pies she bakes. A man needs his space.”

  Jase gets himself under control and shakes his head at me. “You only have yourself to blame. You should’ve done that shit in the shower like any self-respecting man. Jesus.”

  I don’t say anything because he’s right. And normally I would have, especially being back home. What I don’t tell him, though, is that I woke up with wood to rival an oak tree, dreams so fresh in my mind, I couldn’t do anything but grip my cock and stroke. And the worst part was that the dreams were so vivid because they weren’t dreams at all, but a replaying of events that already happened. Waking up did nothing to dispel the image that was playing on a loop in my mind—Paige spread out on her dining room table, legs parted for me and back arched as I licked her to orgasm. And even though it wasn’t happening right then, hadn’t happened for months, I could practically taste her pussy, just like I did that night in December.

  “Seriously, though, it sounds like you just need to get out more. Maybe you’re working too much,” Jase says, interrupting my thoughts. Thank fuck, because the last thing I need to be doing is getting wood while sitting next to my best friend. “Have you found anything at the shop yet?”

  I’ve been back for a few days, each one spent at my parents’ shop, Reid Sporting Goods, trying to find where it all went wrong for them, and thus the reason I took a hiatus from my life and showed up in Michigan, more than a thousand miles from home. Though all went wrong isn’t quite right, considering the ups and downs the shop has faced every year since I could remember. It’s worse now than it’s ever been, though. So much so, bankruptcy is knocking on my parents’ door. No way for me to ignore that and stay in the stable bubble I created for myself in Denver.

  Each day at the store has been about as productive as shoveling during a blizzard. The books are a mess, receipts in boxes and stacks and piles here and there, and it’s going to take me a hell of a lot longer than a few days to get it sorted out. But if the plethora of IOUs I found are anything to go by, I have a pretty damn good idea of why the shop is nearly in the red for the first time since their first three years in business. My parents are too goddamn nice.

  I shake my head. “Nothing concrete, but I have a few ideas of why they aren’t pulling in as much money.” Or any money, really. But having spent every day and night worrying about it, I don’t want to talk about it now. “But, yeah, I could use a night out. Cade up for something?”

  “Actually, Tess mentioned the six of us getting together. Paige just got this internship she’s been salivating over. Last step before she gets her master’s.” He scoops up some more salsa. “Speaking of Paige, what’d you do to her that night I asked you to drive her home after Christmas?”

  I’m pretty sure the answer he’s looking for isn’t fuck her in every room of her apartment, so instead I just shrug. “Nothing, why?”

  “Because Tessa’s under the impression t
hat Paige can’t stand you.” To anyone else, it might seem like he’s just looking at me while having a conversation, but we’ve been friends nearly all our lives, and I know he’s being anything but indifferent right now. His eyes aren’t narrowed, but he’s studying me just the same.

  I work hard to school my features into disinterest, making sure the shock doesn’t show on my face. Shock at the fact that Paige would think of me in any way but happily. I should be her favorite person in the world, considering I got her off five times that night—not that I was counting.

  Granted, she was adamant that what we had that night was a one-time deal. Or a three-times-in-one-night deal, anyway. Maybe she’s pissed that I’m back here, even if temporarily. Maybe she’s pissed that I never called or texted her, even though she specifically told me not to and never gave me her number. Maybe she’s pissed that I never said anything about it to the guys, even though that was one of her stipulations, too.

  At the time, that was fine with me. I was stressed from dealing with all the shit with my parents, the burden of helping them falling to my shoulders since my older sister has her own family to worry about several states away, and I needed an outlet. One-night stands aren’t my usual M.O. In fact, Paige was my first and only. But, Jesus. If all of them are as amazing as that night was with Paige, I need to rethink my stance.

  I have a feeling, though, it isn’t one-night stands that are so great.

  It’s her.

  And I’m damn well going to figure out why she’s got a problem with me and get that shit settled, because I’m not going to be satisfied until I get another taste of her.

  “You know anything about that?” Jase asks after my too-long silence.

  I shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine for why she’s got a problem with me. But we can find out when we all go out. Set it up and let me know.”

  paige

  Why does he have to look so good? I know five months isn’t a long time, but it’s long enough that I hoped maybe he’d have developed a bit of a gut, started getting a receding hairline or going prematurely gray, perhaps. But no. His hair is dark—not a strand of silver in it—and just as thick and full as it was when I gripped it while he was stationed between my legs. And a gut? Hah. He’s all solid muscle, the breadth of his shoulders and the planes of his chest filling out that red Henley like no one’s business. And I’m only a little ashamed to admit I glimpsed his ass in those dark, low-slung jeans when he went up to the bar in the far corner of the pub when we first got here. Bitable, just like I remember. And I can’t, for the life of me, remember why I didn’t bite it when we slept together. Because an ass like that deserves to have teeth marks on it.