Nash Brothers Box Set

by Carrie Aarons

  “Just because you’re a sarcastic asshole every day of your life doesn’t mean I have to trust that you mean an apology.” Her face is so red from anger, I’m afraid it might explode.

  “I’d stupidly asked where you were when everyone was at the Goat for a drink. I had to cover my tracks somehow,” I offer up lamely, knowing it won’t assuage her.

  “So, because you were a dumbass, you had to go and trash my mothering skills in front of my closest friends? Nice, Forrest. You’re a moron. I don’t even know why I’m here. I don’t want to see you again. Or have you anywhere near my children.”

  She storms past me, toward, the door, and I catch her elbow.

  “Penelope, come on. Don’t overreact. It wasn’t personal.”

  “Nothing is to you, Forrest,” she fires back.

  Now she’s pissing me off. She was the one who wanted to make an agreement where we only fucked and had no emotions or even friendly connection past that.

  “Excuse me, but aren’t you the one using me for my cock and nothing else? You call me up, random hours of the day, and expect me to be hard as a steel pipe so you can get your rocks off. I think it’s pretty hypocritical of you to come knocking down my door about hurt feelings. That’s what this explicitly wasn’t supposed to be about. You can’t stand me, and I can’t tolerate you any better. But we do some great horizontal work and don’t have to go through all the bullshit of a relationship. Or are you here telling me that you really do care about me and my opinion of you?”

  What I don’t say is that with just a couple of stories, she could tell my family just how well I’ve treated her. That I’ve given her her space, agreed to her terms, gone to get medicine for the children I apparently talked shit about. That the only reason I have to bad-mouth her to my family is that we have to throw them off the scent that anything is happening here.

  I’m just a sex object for her, which stings more than I know it should. And now, I’ve backed her into a corner. If she admits that she cares, then we can talk about it.

  Because as infuriating as the woman is … the past month has been pretty damn great. She might grate on my nerves, but she’s funny. Obviously, she’s beautiful and a terrific lay, but there is more below the surface than I ever realized when it comes to Penelope. I’ve come to care for her, in a way only I can. I might not hold her hand or take her out to dinner but having her sleep in my bed … that was a long way for me to go. She might not know it, but I’ve rarely done that with a woman.

  Penelope rolls her eyes in my direction. “Don’t be so full of yourself. All I care about is that you were shit talking my parenting skills. You always do think way too highly of yourself, Forrest … but don’t for a second believe that I’m here to profess some undying love. Or to sob over my upset at your opinion of me. I’m just a strong-ass woman who isn’t going to let a little boy trash her name all over the town she lives in. So fuck you, and good night.”

  With that, she takes off, slamming the door behind her.

  I feel like I’ve been whipped through a hurricane and am just trying to breathe my way through the confusion and destruction. Although I knew the comments would come back to burn me, I truly thought that Penelope would understand my side of things when I confessed to protecting our beneficial relationship.

  But I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t. Because if I hadn’t said anything, and just let my family stare at me for asking where she was, my hookup buddy would have flipped out about potentially exposing that we’ve been sleeping together. But now that I’ve thrown them off the scent with my dickish behavior, she’s pissed and feels like I personally attacked her mothering skills.

  This is why I don’t get involved with women, or people in general. They’re all too emotional and don’t understand my brand of personality.

  What’s worse, is that in my own way, I was only trying to protect her.

  Even more is that I care about her, against all odds. And she just proved that she most certainly doesn’t give a shit about me.

  16

  Penelope

  “Mom, I can’t carry this anymore,” Travis whines, dropping his gym bag in the dirt as I cringe.

  “Come on, buddy, help me out a little here?”

  I try to keep the pleading and annoyance out of my tone, but I’m so at the end of my rope, it’s about to snap. Ames won’t detach himself from me, Matthew keeps whining about being scared to pull out a tooth that’s hanging by a thread, and Travis’ soccer practice ran late. We’re all hungry, tired, and just want to be home.

  “Let me help you with that.”

  I turn when the masculine voice hits my ears because surely that wasn’t my nine-year-old. Corey grabs the gym bag off the ground and hoists it onto his shoulder, then proceeds to give all the boys high-fives.

  “Hey, thanks for that.” I nod in his direction as I heft Ames up on my hip.

  “Anytime. I was over there watching some of my JV guys practice and saw you struggling. Can I help with something?”

  Corey is nice, and while I appreciate the gesture, all I want to do is get these kids home and down to bed so I can pass out, too.

  “No, really, we’re okay. If you can just pop that in my trunk—” I tell him, popping the back of my SUV open from the button on my key fob.

  “Hey, how about if I pick up pizza for all of us and bring it over?” Corey says to the kids rather than me, knowing he’ll get a jovial response anytime he mentions pizza to children.

  “That’s really not necessary—” I start before Matthew cuts me off.

  “Come on, Mom! You were just saying you’re too tired to cook. We could get pepperoni, your favorite!”

  The little traitor, revealing my last words to Corey. But I am exhausted, and the thought of cheesy, gooey pizza right now is almost close to having a taste bud hard-on …

  Those little faces look up at me with such innocent expressions. “Okay, fine. Corey can bring pizza over. But you better get washed up quickly when we get home, and no arguing at bedtime.”

  “Yes! Thanks, Mom!” they all cry in unison.

  Which makes me feel a tad better about serving them a crappy dinner.

  Forty minutes later, we’re all well into our second slice, aside from Ames, and my hangry attitude has somewhat subsided.

  “So then, since Johnny dared me, I ate my waffle off the floor,” Travis tells Corey, giggling at his own grossness.

  Corey fist bumps him. “My man! Never waste food or the money you paid for it. I’m sure it tasted just as good as it had before it had fallen on the lunchroom floor.”

  “It was so good. And I even got a second one! Sarah Beth told on me, said I ate food off the floor. But instead of being angry, Miss Liz, our lunch lady, just gave me a new one!”

  My oldest son says this as if he’s amazed that his disgusting eating habits were rewarded with a second helping of the “breakfast-for-lunch” entree of the day.

  “Two waffles for lunch and pizza for dinner? You’re going to have one heck of a stomach ache tonight.” I shoot him a disapproving glare.

  “And ice cweem for dessert?” Ames flashes a toothy grin at me from his booster seat, already looking for the good stuff.

  I tap a finger to my chin. “Hmm, I don’t know. Little boys who don’t finish even half their slice of pizza don’t get rewarded with dessert.”

  All of a sudden, my baby boy starts shoveling it into his mouth, so fast he might choke.

  “Slow down there, champ.” Corey laughs, reaching over to pull the slice from Ames’ grasp and cut it up for him.

  I can’t help but look on in disbelief. That someone is taking the job of serving my children off my hands. That another person is willing to sit at a table with my rowdy crew and cut up food into bite-size pieces. Not to mention that person is a man, one who has no obligation to be here.

  My heart warms a little at the sight of Corey with my boys. He was a good friend to Travis, and he’s tried to step in with the kid since my husba
nd’s death. I should let him more.

  “Okay, now Matthew, tell us about your spelling bee.” I lean in to listen to him.

  After dinner, each boy gets a scoop of vanilla, which they devour, and then it’s off to the races. Brushing teeth, combing hair, bedtime stories, drinks of water … each one is different in the specific way he likes to wind down.

  But with Corey here, it’s done in half the time, and I find it refreshingly nice to be helped.

  The two of us settle down onto the couch, him with a beer and me with a glass of pinot noir.

  “Thank you for helping out tonight. I didn’t realize how much I needed it until … well, until my kid was throwing his gym bag in the dirt.”

  Corey chuckles. “You know I’d do anything for you, Pip.”

  He uses the nickname that Travis had created for me, after Pippi Longstocking, because I was so unpredictable and spontaneous as a teenager.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to …” Corey trails off, realizing that I’m holding my breath after he called me the name Travis used to.

  “No, no … that’s all right. It’s just … I haven’t heard that nickname in quite a while.” My voice is small, weak. “Do you think about what things would be like if he were here?”

  “Every day,” Corey says immediately, nodding while he drinks his beer at the other end of the couch.

  “Sometimes I feel like he’s still out there, and I just can’t call him because he’s on an op. Is that stupid?” There is no one who understands this logic more than Corey.

  Shaking his head, his brown eyes lock onto me. It makes me feel stupid that I notice they aren’t a sparkling, translucent blue … and I’m even angrier at myself that I wish they were. Because … why would I want that?

  Why would I want the company of a man who shit-talked me to my closest friends? How could Forrest Nash possibly understand the death of my husband, or be an appropriate person to talk to about it?

  And yet … I miss him. It’s irrational and asinine, after what he did. After how little we actually meant to each other. But, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t understand why he did it. I’d practically asked him not to be nice in front of his family when it came to me. Those were the rules of the agreement; carry on as if we still sparred with words and despised each other.

  The fact that I viewed his actions as betrayal at all …

  Well, it means that it affected me on a deeper level than just losing my fuck buddy.

  “It’s not stupid. I miss him all the time. But … I am here for you.” Corey’s voice interrupts my thoughts, and for a second I forgot he was here.

  He scoots closer, closing some of the distance between us on the couch. My stomach tightens because I’m a woman and can smell it a mile away when a man is trying to come onto me.

  “Penny, I have kept my distance. Been respectful of the time and space you needed to heal. And I will always be here as a loving friend for those kids. But the one thing about Travis being gone is …”

  God, please don’t say it. I know he’s going to confess his feelings for me, and yet I can’t stop it. He’s just been so nice tonight, grabbing dinner and putting the boys to sleep. I can’t find it in my bitchiest of hearts to shut him down outright before he can even get the words out.

  “I don’t have to hide how I feel about you anymore. I kept quiet once, because I knew my best friend loved you and you loved him. But … this might be a second chance, Penny. I’d really like to take you out on a date. What do you say?”

  His eyes are so hopeful, everything about him radiating the promise of positive expectations.

  “Corey, I …” I start, hoping the right words will come to me, but my mind goes blank. So I’m left with my unpredictable mouth, which is no good for anyone. “Listen, I really appreciate you helping out with the kids. And I think you’re a wonderful guy. But … it’s just too close to home for me. I’ll always think of you as Travis’ best friend, and I love that we have that bond. And I’m not the girl for you, either. I have so much baggage, the kids, my schedule is nuts …”

  Trailing off, I just hope he’s heard enough lame excuses to lick his wounds and go home.

  But what he does next shocks me.

  Jumping up hard enough to rattle some of the knickknacks on my living room bookshelves, Corey throws his beefy arms up.

  “You’re just not giving us a chance! I know you’re still sad about Travis, but open your mind to the possibility, at least! We could be really good together. I know all of your baggage and even have some of the same. I’m great with the kids, you saw that tonight. I proved it!”

  Now, I’m uncomfortable. “That didn’t need to be proven … you should have done it out of the goodness of your heart.”

  But Corey isn’t listening to me, his voice only reaching new levels of loudness. “Pssh, come on, Penelope! All women want a little show of chivalry. Your sex lives for that shit.”

  And in this moment, the creep of awareness that I might be in a threatening position slowly makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

  “You need to be quiet. My children are upstairs sleeping. And I’d like you to leave now.” I cross my arms around my body, suddenly feeling very vulnerable in this situation.

  I live in Fawn Hill, which is a sleepy Pennsylvania town where women walk their dogs well after dark without fear of anything. So I haven’t often felt intimidated by a man in this way. But right now, I’m getting a big dose of unwanted male attention that is causing my whole body to go rigid with tension.

  Corey looks like he might say something else, but I back away, ready to do what, I’m not sure. But my children are upstairs, and if there is anything more lethal than a mother lion who feels her cubs are threatened, I haven’t seen it yet.

  “Okay, okay. Things didn’t need to get this heated. I’ll go. Have a good night, Pip.”

  The burly, bordering on heavyset, man stomps out of my living room, and I rush to the door immediately after I hear it click closed to lock and bolt it.

  He had to use that nickname one more time, making it feel tarnished and dirty in the disaster he just caused.

  17

  Forrest

  Why do I feel like I’m about to walk into the Colosseum to be mauled by lions?

  Oh, right, because my sisters-in-law sit in front of me, their arms crossed and lips pursed, ready for battle.

  “What do you have to say for yourself, Forrest?” Presley begins, always the more aggressive of the two.

  “And before you start, just know that we aren’t leaving here without an apology.” Okay, so apparently Lily is in a sassy mood today, as well.

  I don’t blame them, though. I was a jerk at the Goat & Barrister.

  Keaton set this meeting up at his and Presley’s place, about ten days into the women refusing to have anything to do with me. It’s been tense and awkward, and I’ve been miserable. Because no one knows what truly happened, or how pissed off Penelope really was at me.

  Per usual, my family had turned their backs on me. They didn’t understand me, so they chose not to deal with me. Story of my life.

  “And I plan on giving you one. I’m truly sorry for what I said the other night. It was done in a moment of stupidity, and I take it all back. I know that I’m an asshole ninety percent of the time, but know that from the bottom of my heart, I am very, very sorry.”

  And also, I’m tired of my brothers blackballing me from hangouts or pickup basketball games, so I was more than ready to apologize for my shitty attitude and move on. Not that I didn’t mean what I said, because I know how dumb my words about Penelope were.

  I just wish I could give them the full story. But, this apology would have to do.

  “There, he apologized. I think we can all go back to being one big happy family?” Keaton suggests, hope tinging his voice.

  Ah, the peacemaker, always on edge if someone is in a fight. My big brother wanted everyone to play nice in this world. If only he saw the disturbing underbe
lly of this universe like I did each day.

  “Not so fast.” Presley holds a hand up in her husband’s direction. “Have you apologized to Penelope? Because you know she knows, right?”

  Instinctively, the first thing I think to say, sarcastically, is thank you for that. But they can’t know just how serious the argument between their friend and I was … or it will defeat the whole purpose of trying to keep all of this bullshit under wraps.

  Jesus, how did it get to this level of batshit crazy?

  So instead, I tell them a half-truth. “I texted her saying how sorry I was after she confronted me in town. And then I called and left a message. I haven’t heard back, but I did apologize.”

  This was all really smacking me back down to earth. Who would have thought that Forrest Nash would be groveling at his sisters-in-law’s feet? And it is the truth … they just didn’t how much I’d called and texted. Which I’m so ashamed to admit is four times, respectively. If Penelope understood me at all, she’d know I’d never do that for another woman.

  For another woman, I honestly wouldn’t give a shit.

  A look passes between Lily and Presley, and they nod at each other.

  Lily is the one to speak now. “Okay, we can end our blood feud. But just know that you might be our brother, but Penelope was our sister first. Don’t ever do this again.”

  I salute them, relieved to have this petty drama resolved. “You’ve got it. Now, can we please play a pickup game?”

  My three brothers stand in a group under the hoop Keaton installed in his driveway, and they’re tittering like school girls.

  “I’ve never seen you so repentant.” Bowen chuckles, slapping five dollars into Keaton’s hand.

  “What’s that about?” I point out, annoyed that there is money being exchanged.

  “He bet me you would apologize, and I bet him you wouldn’t. I lost, but damn if it wasn’t a good way to go down. That groveling, top-notch, brother.” Bowen gives me the three-finger gesture for okay or job well done.