Hard to Judge (Pieces of Us #3)

1. Hotaru

“See.” Hailey sidles next to me. She leans her elbows on the banister and lets her gaze rove the sitting room below. The grand room rises to the open second story. An old-world library filled with first editions and rich wood surrounds us. “A little alcohol makes everything better.”

Her arm brushes mine where it leans on the mahogany rail, her heat melting through the thin layer of my dress shirt. My suit coat is discarded on a chair behind us. Her heady scent fills my lungs, intoxicating and dangerous.

I escaped the ruckus of the holiday party for a reprieve. Though I’ve kept my eye on the core group gathered in the great room. The long sofas are organized in a rectangle around a mahogany coffee table that looks like it could double as a battering ram.

I hadn’t expected her to follow.

“Yes.” I nod. “A little will. A lot, however, is bound to backfire.” My words come as Arlo returns to the room with a decanter of aged bourbon and another bottle of wine.

The heads of media and tech for Arlo’s conglomerate sit opposite each other. Dobson’s and Karris’s glares have smoothed enough to fit under the facade of decorum. I know them so well. They don’t fool me.

Their respective dates are snuggled up to their respective sides.

Dobson canoodles with one of the most successful venture capitalists in the city. She looks like a Playboy pinup, has the investment instincts of an apex predator, and brass balls as big as her double Ds. There aren't many people whose opinions I pay attention to. Gertrude Errington’s is one.

Karris has his arm thrown over a fashion-forward man who looks a hell of a lot like Dobson.

Astor and her date sit on separate sofas. The Spanish-looking man Hailey’s best friend brought is reclined next to Dobson’s date, while Astor chats animatedly with Karris’s Dollar-Store-Dobson. The man isn’t ugly by any stretch, but he’s not as broad as Dobson. Not as imposing.

Hailey’s aunt, Natalia, and her Frenchman nestle in a loveseat at the far end of the room, whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears.

“Or maybe it will make everyone forget their troubles for just one night.” Hailey grimaces.

“Do you think that?” I finally lift my gaze to study her shocking green eyes.

I should hate the woman standing by my side. After all, her red hair is from the devil. Her curves are made for sin. Her insight is too quick for my own good.

I wish I could hate her.

If I could hate her, her and Arlo, my life would be so much easier.

Arlo.

The broken boy who walked into my life and flipped it on its head is now all man. His tattered edges have been filed down and melded together. It took years and distance from the middle of nowhere UK, and it took Hailey.

Hailey is Arlo’s girlfriend. Though calling her that sounds cheap. It’s like calling ‘The Residence’ suite on Etihad Airways a plane ticket. Sure, it will get you from NYC to Abu Dhabi, but it’s so much more than that. Hailey is so much more.

She’s the one who finally cracked him open. She’s the one who made him want to be touched again and want to touch again. She owns his heart and possesses his lust and love.

It would be easy to hate her if it wasn’t impossible.

The woman is everything to Arlo.

Arlo is everything to me.

Therefore, this woman I barely know is everything to me too.

“No, I don’t.” Her long lashes fan across her cheeks for a second, and then she meets my gaze once more. “But it’s worth a shot tonight.” She tilts the tumbler of amber liquid toward me in an offering.

“Not even a baseball bat to the brain could make me forget the memories haunting me tonight.” I take the glass from her anyway and press it to my lips, where a hint of her lipstick mars the crystal. “But what the hell.” I toss it back and enjoy the burn.

“Want to talk about it?”

I chew my lip for a while, studying her angelic cheeks and wide mouth. She studies me back, just as intently. Like she’s trying to mine my secrets through telepathy.

“The holidays are hard for many people,” I dodge.

“I don’t care about many people.” Hailey pulls the glass from my hand and tips back the dregs.

I watch them slip from the cup and into her mouth. I’m mesmerized as her throat works, pulling tight and then bobbing. I start to stiffen in my pants and jerk my gaze away.

Playing host, Arlo fills people’s cups and chats as he goes. “You love him.”

“Yes, I do,” she admits easily. “So do you.”

I nod.

There’s no use denying it. It’s ingrained in my DNA at this point.

“The holidays are especially hard for him, but you’ve made that better too, for him.” A smile tugs at my lips. “I haven’t seen him this happy in a long, long time.”

“I’d like to make them better for you.”

My gaze slides to hers. “Why? You don’t know me, not really.”

“I know you’ll do anything for Arlo, including making yourself miserable, so he can be happy.”

This slight woman has acute words. They home in on my greatest weakness and pack a fucking punch. I feel their impact. Their reverberation pings off all the shattered pieces of my heart.

“When was the last time you did anything for yourself, to make you happy?”

“When he went to college,” Arlo answers for me.

It’s the wrong answer.

My back snaps straight at the implication. I can’t help but round on him. His gaze isn’t on me. It’s drinking Hailey in as though he hasn’t seen her in days. My teeth may crack under the pressure it takes to keep from screaming. I grip the railing at my back and strangle it.

Hailey’s gaze doesn’t miss a thing. Her penetrating green eyes are trained on me. The furrow of her brow deepens. Her gaze jumps to Arlo and then back to me.

“Why didn’t you two go to college together?” She chews the corner of her mouth.

“Our paths diverged,” I answer, slowly exhaling my frustration with Arlo, who stops in front of his lover’s back. More accurately her ass, since she still leans over the railing.

Of course, he thought me choosing a different school was about me. He doesn’t know that every choice I’ve made since he came into my life has been about him, for him.

“Then you came back together?” Hailey digs in search of a bone.

“Yes, years later,” I hedge once more.

She pushes off the banister and turns toward me and Arlo. There’s playfulness in her gaze, much like when I first arrived this evening. “You were in prison.” She waves me off. “It’s fine. You don’t have to talk about it.” A smile toys with her lips as she strives to settle my mood. “Traumatic stuff, I’m sure.”

“Try the opposite of prison.” Arlo chuckles.

Her smile falters. “Oh my goodness, you were a priest.”

Just like that, the overwhelming weight is gone, and her smile blooms. Arlo laughs, and I follow. It’s warm and cozy like the fire burning in the hearth below.

“Here.” Arlo hands Hailey his phone. There’s a wide smile on his face, a proud smile. I suspect he’s showing her the announcement of his latest endeavor.

For the past few months, we’ve been quietly working on an app dedicated to tracking youth in the foster system and matching them with resources available in their area. It makes me want to cry and cheer at the same time. The cause is so close to our hearts.

He has no idea how much I struggled during those months of college the first two years or those first two summers.

Hailey gasps. Her pretty lips form an O that’s fit for a dick.

I swallow and try to look away, but her shocked gaze is on me.

“What?” I look from her to Arlo and back.

“You were in the Olympics?” She turns the phone toward me.

I’m assaulted with a picture of myself. I’m young and hollow, despite the smile that stretches my lips and the two gold medals around my neck.

She pulls the phone back, scrolls, and blinks.

“Hota!” Her lips stretch into a smile. “That outfit.” She presses her lips into a line and pulls Arlo into the crook of her arm, showing him whatever is on the screen now. “That ass.” Her cheeks go as red as her hair. “Those thighs. Those shoulders.”

“It’s called a singlet,” I offer, trying my best to ignore the blood flowing south.

“If you think his body is amazing in those pictures…” Arlo grabs her chin and lifts it toward me. “You’ll have a heart attack if you see him now.” Hailey licks her lips, and Arlo’s dark eyes lift to me. “He’s thicker, wider, and harder.”

Harder?

They look at me like I’m the main course.

Fuck yes, I’m hard.

I adjust my dick as discreetly as I can and try to get myself under control. I’m older too. I’m supposed to be wiser.

“Do you still have your singlet?” Hailey stuffs Arlo’s phone into his pocket and leans her hip on the railing, pulling Arlo with her so he stands just over her left shoulder.

“No.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Hailey’s gaze slides to me, then to Arlo in a devilish seduction, and back. “I would have loved to watch you two wrestle.”

“Arlo never wrestled,” I blurt.

Arlo responds, “Who needs a singlet?”

I stare at him like I don’t know him because I don’t know this carefree version standing in front of me with his arm around a woman and his adult charisma blasting my way.

I knew the tortured soul. The broken boy who grew into a powerful and broken man.

Sure, through the years, I’ve had his eyes on me while I’ve fucked. Sure, I’ve let him order me around during all manner of deviant behavior, but somehow this is different. This is closer, more intimate, and all our clothes are on.

“Oh, right.” Hailey twists in Arlo’s arms. “You wouldn’t have wrestled.”

“No, but I learned the technique. I studied all the school practices,” Arlo admits.

“I bet you did, and I can’t blame you.” Her laugh is light, and then it turns sultry. “If I got you two singlets, would you wrestle now?” She waggles a brow at Arlo.

“And get my ass kicked by a six-time gold medalist?” Arlo's pretty face grimaces.

“You have six gold medals?” Hailey grabs my hand that rests on the banister nearest her.

“I…” My throat gets tight. I hesitate, not wanting to ruin the mood.

Hailey straightens, leaving her lover’s embrace and bringing herself closer to me. “You what?”

“Yes, I earned six gold medals through three different games.” I push from the railing and Hailey’s hold and walk toward a shelf built into the tall wall. Slowly, I meander right, perusing the titles. None of the letters make sense because I’m not reading them.

“Hota?” Arlo calls to me.

“Yeah?” I pluck a thick book off a shelf and flip through its pages. “Have you ever read any of these books?”

“Look at me.” That voice, the one I hear in my dreams and nightmares, demands that I turn. So, I do.

Hailey’s smile is now a serious frown, while Arlo’s sharp features form a stringent appeal.

“It’s not a big deal.” I wave them off and flip carefully through the worn pages. They caress my fingertips and offer a bit of comfort.

“I’ve never known you to be shy.” Arlo’s sleeves are still rolled up from his work in the kitchen. When he crosses his arms, they bulge, revealing more of his sinew and the architecture of his veins. “Especially when you excel at something.”

“I’m getting humble in my old age.” I shrug.

“Old age?” Hailey scoffs. “You’re thirty-two. This has nothing to do with age or humility.”

“When Hailey asked if you have six gold medals, you said you earned six gold medals.” Arlo’s head tilts in that tabulating way.

I know he’ll get to the outcome sooner than I’d like. Still, I stay silent, hoping someone will holler from the living room, telling us to stop eating Hailey out so we can get to the presents. I wish we had her spread across the desk only a few feet away with her legs splayed wide and her pussy drenching our faces.

“Where are your medals, Hota?” Arlo’s voice is thin, brittle. He needs to know, but is scared at the same time.

So much of our relationship is like that. It’s been like that since he came back after the holiday at his uncle’s house.

Distant but engaged. Wanting yet terrified.

For both our parts.

“Probably melted down and sold many times over at this point.” I close the book, press it into my grip, and meet two disappointed gazes.

“Were you proud of your accomplishments?” It’s Hailey’s turn to whisper.

“Yes.” But not as proud as I would have been if Arlo had been there.

“Then…” Hailey shakes her head as though trying to make the pieces settle into place.

“I was more desperate to eat than I was to look at the symbols of my triumph.” I finally spew my truth.

The shock of my words sucks the air from the immediate area. All of us go silent for several painful heartbeats.

“Hota.” Arlo steps forward. His hands lift toward me.

Mine go up in defense with the book as an added layer of protection. I can’t handle his sympathy right now. If he touches me, I’ll lose my shit. This is hardly the time or place. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

He stops, and his shoulders droop. “You had a full wrestling scholarship to Oklahoma State. The most prestigious wrestling school in the history of the sport.”

“I did.”

“You’re one of the smartest people I know.” Arlo scrubs a hand over his jaw. “You were making money hand over fist at fifteen.”

“I was.”

His chin comes up. “Please.”

I’m always the one begging, and he’s always the one handing down orders. Right now, though, he begs. It’s in his eyes. It’s in the set of his shoulders. It’s in his whittled voice.

“During our last year at Willoughby Ridge, my father disowned me.” My hands fall to my sides, and I straighten my spine. “He’d disowned me long before that, but that’s when he withdrew his financial support. I used all the money I’d saved to get through the rest of the school year.”

“That’s why you chose to go to OSU.” Arlo’s mouth hangs open in a way I haven't seen before.

“It wasn’t a choice. A choice means options.” My throat burns. “Harvard would only pay academic, not room and board. I couldn’t afford the difference. I could hardly afford school breaks and summers.”

“You didn’t go for…Nate.” He says it in this awed voice as though he can’t believe it.

After all this time, after all these years, how doesn’t he know that I always choose him?

“He always chooses you.” Hailey steals my words, ones I’ve kept locked inside for years, ones that should be plain to see, and spells them out for Arlo.

Tears fill Arlo’s eyes.

I avert my gaze, which moves immediately to my surprising ally in the room. She smiles at me. It’s sweet and sad. “Why did you sell your medals?”

“School fundraising paid for my Olympic trips the summer before my freshman year since I was wrestling for Team USA and not the UK.” I lick my lips and clear my throat to force the words out. “When I started university, I didn’t have any friends, any couches to crash on, or any money. The first break came, and the dorms closed. I slept on campus when I could find a place to hide from security or in shelters when the weather was bad.”

“You slept outside?” Arlo’s voice is rough and rigid.

“Yeah. It wasn’t so bad.” Until I woke up with a boot in my gut on repeat. “The next break was during winter, and the shelter was full a lot of nights. I sold my first two medals to buy food and get a motel room on the really cold nights.”

“Fucking Christ, Hota.” Arlo grips his hair like he’s going to rip it from his scalp. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I know you have more money than God now, but back then, we were both struggling to make it.” I brace the book between my hands.

“I would have?—”

“Put yourself in a bad position to help me.” I cut him off.

“What about your scheme to make money?” Arlo asks, and Hailey’s brows jump with interest.

“In boarding school, Arlo used to do kids’ assignments for cash. I would hack the school’s firewall and supply them porn access,” I explain.

“Oh.” She nods like it makes all the sense in the world.

“Boarding school was one thing, but I couldn’t risk getting caught in college and jeopardizing my scholarship. Besides, I’d sold my laptop to buy plane tickets to get to the States.”

“Fuck,” Arlo grumbles.

“With training and classes, I didn’t have time for a job. By my sophomore year, I had friends to crash with during breaks, and I found a job at the motel.”

Arlo’s gaze pulls mine to his. There’s panic and anguish in his eyes.

“I wasn’t whoring myself out.” My head shakes. “I was washing sheets in a fucking hot box for hours on end.”

“Hey!” Karris hollers from below. “You might want to hurry up and get to presents before Frenchie gets cum on your loveseat."

“You two behave yourselves!” Hailey calls.

“You first.” Her aunt laughs.

“I’ll get the presents,” Hailey tells them and then moves to my side. “Will you help me, Hota?”

“Of course.” I know she’s saving me like I saved her from the drama with Karris and his Dollar-Store-Dobson earlier this evening.

“Page 142,” Arlo barks before I have a chance to move.

Hailey and I both look at him, trying to make sense of his words.

“You asked me if I read any of these books.” He points at the one in my hand and looks only at me. “Lines four, five, and six.”

Arlo’s siren urges me on with a smile.

I flip to the page and see that this is a book of poems. Page 142 is Lines Depicting Simple Happiness by Peter Gizzi.

Arlo speaks the words as I read them silently. My fucking eyes sting.

It says he notices all the good things about me.

It says there’s no part of me he wouldn’t want.

It says with me there is nothing easy and nothing easier.

I blink back the sentiment and turn to place the book on the shelf. That’s when I notice the hardcover.

It’s the one I threw at the bathroom door when he ran away from me after our first sexual experience with a third person in the mix.

“Keep it,” Arlo demands. Then he adds a please to the end.

I nod and hug it to my side.

“Come with me,” Hailey says, wiping tears from her smiling cheeks.