by L. S. Pullen
I bring my hand up against his forehead. “You feel all right?” I ask.
“Fuck off,” he says, pushing my hand away and grabbing for the pads. “Are we training or what?”
Henry gets into position, and I stand off to the side.
“I have some friends coming over tomorrow night, if you’re up for it?” he asks us. Since I don’t live there anymore, I think the invitation is likely more for my benefit and to give H the heads up.
“Yeah, I might pop over,” I reply. Maybe it will take my mind off of seeing Charlotte. Who am I kidding? The chances are fucking slim. The crazy thing is that I was consumed with thoughts of Meg and then thoughts of Meg with H until her.
It might sound messed up from the outside looking in, my brother and my ex, but life happens, and it’s too fucking short to live a half-life. Fuck, it’s why I split up with her in the first place, but it still hurt to do it. Sometimes my head and my heart don’t always see eye to eye.
And now H is trying to deny that they are inevitable. He has some displaced loyalty to me, but I’ve accepted it now, and as soon as he pulls his head out of his arse, so will he.
I keep glancing at the stairs, waiting for Olly and Charlotte to leave, desperate to see her again, even if it's just a few seconds. The woman is my Achilles heel––and Olly’s little sister of all people. Well, hardly little, she’s a grown arse woman, free to make her own choices.
Maybe I should have said I knew her, but that would have led to a round of questions. Ones I wasn’t prepared to answer, and the fact she didn’t bring it up tells me she didn’t want to either.
And I’m pretty sure Olly would have plenty to say if he found out about us, especially now, when we acted like strangers. But what were we meant to say? “Oh, hi, yeah, we’ve met. I took her in as many positions as I could think of until we ran out of condoms…” And damn, if memories of her underneath me––around me, in front of me––don’t have my dick hardening in my shorts. Fuck.
Without a word, I leave Henry and Nathan, head to the gents, and lock myself in one of the cubicles. I am trying to breathe through my hard-on, willing it to go away. It doesn’t appear to be getting the memo, and I can’t go back out there sporting a tent in my shorts.
Thumping my forehead against the back of the door, I let out a groan. I can’t believe I’m going to have to do this. I take myself out of my shorts, stiff as the night we met and knowing there’s only one way to get rid of it, I stroke myself. I close my eyes and picture her on all fours as I fucked her from behind, her hair wrapped around my hand. The way she arched her back as she met my deep, hard thrusts. Wanking myself off with vigour, it only takes another three hard pumps before I shoot my load, and I clench my jaw tight as I come.
When I return, Nathan has to rush off, which he seems to be doing a lot of lately. I take up the pads and stand in front of Henry.
“You all right, man?” he asks, his head tilted to the side.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
I smack the pads in my hands and hold them out.
“So, what did you think of Lottie?” he asks, punching the pads in quick succession.
I pause and stare at him for a moment. “Charlotte… oh, yeah, she seems nice,” I reply with a non-committal shrug. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask. Maybe I’m just being super fucking paranoid.
“Like what?” he asks with a smirk as he punches the pads again. I hold my stance and keep my position as he gets into a rhythm.
I manage to concentrate enough to keep from being knocked off balance, but it’s not without effort, because at the back of my mind, I wonder how the hell I’m meant to carry on as though Charlotte and I aren’t sleeping together—or did sleep together—if she decides to call the whole thing off, and the latter isn’t the outcome I want.
Grateful to finally finish up and get home, I shower and then fall onto my bed, my towel still wrapped around my waist. My bedding still smells like sex and Charlotte, and I fucking love it. I reach for my phone, unable to bear the radio silence since she left with Olly earlier.
Me : Are you okay?
I don’t expect an immediate reply, so I’m a little surprised when bubbles appear, followed by a message.
Charlotte : Yeah, of course, I was just surprised to see you.
I don’t know why but I can’t resist my next message.
Me : Tell me about it. I had to bang one out in the men’s toilets.
I’m treading a very dangerous line, and I know it.
Charlotte : Oh my God, you didn’t?
I let out a sigh and can’t help but smile.
Me : I did, and I’m not even sorry.
Closing my eyes, I wait for a reply and must doze off because I startle awake when my phone vibrates on my chest. I blink a few times before my eyes adjust to the light.
Charlotte : So, does that mean you still want to… you know?
I laugh at that.
Me : If you mean, do I still want to fuck you five ways to Sunday, then yes. Why? Have you changed your mind?
Maybe that was a little too much, but I won’t lie to her.
Charlotte : No, I’m still game.
There is one other thing I want to make very clear though, so I type it out.
Me : Good, and Charlotte, there is one other thing you need to know about me… I don’t like to share. While we do this, you are mine, no one else’s.
Chapter Fifteen
Charlotte
I’m trying not to let my mind keep wandering to seeing Ethan today and the revelation his twin brother is best friends with Olly, especially seeing as I want to be present while spending time with him, Rachel, and Molly.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I have something for Molly in my boot,” I say to Rachel when Molly rushes off to fetch Buster a treat.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, her cheeks heating.
“Well, it’s more of a hand-me-down. It was just sitting in my parent's loft. She might not even like it,” I say, suddenly wondering if this was a stupid idea.
“Stop that. She’ll love anything if it’s from you, honestly.”
Olly comes back into the room; his eyes seek out Rachel as he passes me my tea first before setting hers down on the table. It’s clear how in love they are. I almost feel bad for interrupting their moment.
“Olly, can you give me a hand getting the present for Molly?” I ask. My dad helped me get it in the car, and there is no way I’m risking attempting to bring it in myself. It will be a real shame if it dies a horrible death because of my lack of coordination.
He nods, kissing Rachel’s temple and following me out to my car. I open the boot, and he peers inside.
“Molly is going to flip her lid,” he says, staring at the giant doll house.
I had to leave the parcel shelf with my parents so it would fit.
I point to one of the bedrooms. “We added flamingo wallpaper to the biggest kids’ room. I thought she’d like that,” I say, remembering how much Olly said she loves flamingos.
He smiles. “It’s brilliant, and the attention to detail is amazing.”
“Right? My dad made it when they adopted me, and we never had the heart to sell it. I just thought Molly might like it.”
Olly kisses the top of my head. “No, she’ll love it. Thank you, Lottie.”
Gripping it on either side, I help him as he pulls it out and makes sure he has hold of it before closing the boot and directing him back towards his house.
Molly is obsessed as soon as we are safely back indoors, and he puts it down in the living room.
“I love it, Aunt Lottie, thank you,” she says, throwing herself at me for a hug. My chest squeezes, and I don’t even know what to say, but she’s oblivious as she moves her attention back to the dollhouse and peers inside, checking out all of the rooms.
“She kept asking who you were to her,” Olly explains as she pulls out the miniature furniture one by one and examines each piece in wo
nder. “I told her you were my sister, and she said that made you her auntie,” he says––like it makes perfect sense.
“Wow, that’s so sweet,” I reply.
“You sure you don’t mind? I can tell her just to call you Lottie,” Rachel says, worrying her lip.
“Oh my God, no. Honestly, I’m flattered.”
And I am. The fact I’ve only known Rachel and Molly for a few short weeks and they treat me like I’m already family genuinely warms my heart. Olly already told me Rachel is it for him, so as far as I’m concerned, I’m already an aunt by default.
“Come play with me, Aunt Lottie,” Molly says, staring up at me with her big eyes. Olly wasn’t lying when he said she’d have me wrapped around her little finger. I sit down next to her, crossing my legs, and she then proceeds to tell me what we’re doing, which appears to be re-arranging the furniture in each room so it’s more to her liking. I have to give her credit. The girl has style.
Ethan’s last text surprised the hell out of me, and honestly, it even scared me a little. Not him necessarily, but the way my body responds to him and the way he awakens every dormant nerve ending. I expected him to say we should just call it a day, and I wouldn’t blame him. Not only does it turn out he’s friends with Olly, but his twin brother––Henry––is Olly’s best friend.
I keep looking at the last text.
Ethan: While we do this, you are mine, no one else’s.
It caught me unaware, and I stuffed my phone back into my bag. My face must have given me away, but thankfully, Rachel said nothing as I continued to help her with dinner. We all went to bed about an hour ago, but I’m restless. I throw the cover off, leaving my phone on the bedside cupboard. I quietly make my way downstairs. When I get to the kitchen, Olly is sitting at the island. He looks up when he hears my feet approach.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” he asks, searching my face.
“No, I was thirsty,” I reply, reaching for a glass and filling it with water from the tap.
“There’s bottled water in the fridge,” he says.
I shake my head. “This is good, thanks,” I reply, taking a small sip and taking a seat opposite.
“Trouble sleeping?” I ask.
He nods. “Yeah, just having a hot chocolate then I’ll try and go back up,” he replies, raising his mug. “Do you want one?”
“No, thank you. Do you remember when you used to heat us milk in the microwave?”
He tilts his head, smiling. “You remember that?”
“Of course I do.”
But his smile quickly fades. “I am sorry I wasn’t able to protect us better.” His words hold so much remorse it's heart-breaking.
“Olly, we were just kids, and you did more than most would have done at that age. You were my hero then, and you’re my hero now. Look at what you did for Molly-Mae.”
His eyes meet mine. “Anyone would have done the same.”
“No, they wouldn’t. Listen, I know how hard you are on yourself. We’re a lot alike when it comes to always trying to prove ourselves. I tried so hard to be perfect when we were first separated, but then I realised it just meant I had further to fall when I accepted I couldn’t meet my own expectations.”
Olly reaches over, takes hold of my hand and squeezes. “We are hardest on ourselves; I know I need to learn to let go of the things I cannot change without apology, but it’s still a work in progress,” he admits.
And isn’t that the truth. “When I first moved in with my parents, I was so afraid they’d send me away that when I got sick, I tried to pretend nothing was wrong. Only when I passed out from fatigue and began wetting the bed, I couldn’t hide it anymore. I was certain they’d send me away for sure, but they didn’t, and it was then I understood what unconditional love was.”
He tilts his head to the side.
“What was wrong with you?” he asks.
“CKD––chronic kidney disease,” I reply. And I realise there is still so much about each other we still don’t know.
“But you’re all right now. You had treatment?” he asks with concern, sitting up a little straighter.
“I did. Dialysis and then later a kidney transplant because it was quite advanced.” I leave out the part about how not everyone I knew was quite so lucky.
“And now?”
I smile to put him at ease. “I’m fine for the most part. I take immunosuppressant medication, and if I have any issues or flare-ups, I make an appointment with my GP for a check-up.” It’s not something that affects me for the most part. It’s something I’m used to, though the hardest part for me at the time was the weight gain. My hormones were already all over the place.
“You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”
And there he goes, worrying. I stand up and move around, giving him a quick hug.
“Yes, of course I would. Finish that and then try and get some sleep, okay?”
He nods and kisses my forehead as I pull back.
“Night, Lottie,” he says as I reach for my glass and head back upstairs.
Talk of my transplant has kind of put things into perspective… about how maybe we should do the things that scare us… we only live once.
I reach for my phone back in bed, and even though it’s late, I send Ethan a text.
Me: Agreed. I don’t like sharing either, so that goes for you too.
I lay down and close my eyes, my phone resting on my chest. It vibrates, startling me, and I quickly pull up the message, biting my lip.
Ethan: Good, so it’s settled. We agree to only sleep with one another and keep this strictly between us.
Under any other circumstances, I might feel weird about keeping it a secret, but I don’t. I mean, apart from Vi, no one else knows, and I like the idea of not trying to conform to society's expectations of what is deemed acceptable when it comes to my sex habits.
My fingers roll over my screen fast
Me: Yes, and Ethan…
Bubbles appear.
Ethan: Yes?
I switch off the lamp beside the bed and then reply.
Me: Call me Lottie.
His reply is instant
Ethan: Duly noted.
Something about those two words makes me smile wide and sends excitement through my belly at the possibility of what’s to come.
Chapter Sixteen
Ethan
I wake not long after my head hits the pillow, feeling disorientated and like something is wrong. It’s difficult to explain the invisible bond I have with Henry, not just because we’re brothers, but because we’re twins.
My senses are on high alert, and I have this overwhelming need to call him to make sure he’s all right, regardless of it being early hours and me seeing him less than a few hours ago when I went back to his after training.
He answers on the second ring.
“E,” he says, and immediately I get a sinking feeling.
“H, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
He clears his throat, thick with emotion, and I feel a moment of absolute panic. “Is it Meg?” I ask, struggling to keep my voice steady.
I can hear muffled voices in the background, and he says something away from the phone before coming back to me.
“Shit, man, it’s Clara,” he says.
“What? What about her?” I ask, but it’s a moot question. I already know what he’s going to say before he says it.
“She’s dead,” we both say at the same time.
“Yeah,” he says after letting out a heavy exhale.
“Fuck. What happened?” I ask, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed and heading downstairs. I check there’s water in the kettle before flicking it on.
“Overdose. I tried to help; I swear I did, but it wasn’t enough.”
Scrubbing my palm over my chin, I let out a breath and pull out a chair.
“Shit, man, I’m sure you did everything you could,” I say honestly.
He and Clara have history––or should I say had history
. I sit and listen as he tells me what happened, how Meg called him, and he then drove straight to Clara’s.
I realise the pang of jealousy and hurt I feel isn’t as strong as I expected over her calling him instead of me. But it’s still there, no matter how faint, and I wonder if it will ever go away.
“What about Jacob?” I ask.
Clara might have been a lot of things, but from what Meg said, she doted on her son. “Where the fuck is Emilio?” I ask, his name tasting like acid on my tongue.
“Fuck knows, his mum is meant to be coming to look after him.”
“Poor kid,” I say. The kettle boils and I make myself a cup of tea, my phone pressed between my ear and shoulder. We were all friends growing up, but Emilio’s house was one we’d go to as little as possible. His mum, even then, acted like her son was too good for us and like her shit didn’t stink. She accused us countless times of leading her boy astray when it was him who got into the wrong crowd outside of our circle of friends.
“I can’t believe she’s dead,” he says. Even though she’s his ex, I hear the emotion in his voice, because regardless of anything, this is still Meg’s best friend and the mother of her godson.
“It’s a shock, for sure, and I know this must cut deeper for you.”
Sitting back down, I sip my tea and tap the top of the table.
Henry’s thoughts are probably going a mile a minute right now.
“Do you need me to do anything? Come and get you and Meg?” I ask.
“No, man. I’m going to stay here with her, at least until his mother gets here. There’s no way I’m leaving her. Emilio could show up at any time.”
I know being there is the last place he wants to be, but the more I see how much he cares for Meg––even though he still thinks he’s protecting me––the more it shows me how much he does love her, whether he’s ready to admit it or not.
“Okay, well, if you do need anything, I’m here. Keep me posted.”
“Will do. Thanks, E.”
“Of course, love you,” I say, clearing my throat.