Chapter 3
Hank
“Didn’t I ask you to move these clothes last week?”
I picked up a pair of sweats, gym shorts, two T-shirts, and socks from the leather wingback chair I’d picked up at an estate sale when I moved to Granville to save my brother from eviction.
Stale sweat and another scent I’d rather not associate with my brother clung to the laundry.
“Ugh.” I dropped the bundle on his lap where he sprawled on the sofa. “Go wash this.”
“I’ll get to it,” Corey said without looking away from the shooter game playing out on the screen. He wore a headset and laughed at something someone had said. “Yeah, my brother is so fucking fussy. If I wanted to be mothered, I’d have stayed back home, you know?”
I pulled his headset off, irritation flaring. “It’s not fussy to not want to live in a pigsty, Corey.”
He groaned. “Dude, what’s the point of having a bachelor pad if you’re going to be so uptight?”
“This isn’t a bachelor pad,” I said. “It’s not required that a house with two men in it be filthy.”
“Like I said, uptight,” he said with a shit-eating grin.
I picked up a T-shirt and threw it over his head. “Don’t be a shithead. I moved here to help you out, not to—”
My phone rang, cutting across my words.
“That’s not Mom, is it?” Corey said, sounding like a scared little kid. “Don’t tell her I lost my job. You know how judgmental she is!”
I glanced at the Caller ID. It was our cousin. But this seemed like a great opportunity to motivate my brother.
“I won’t if you clean up and remember you’re a grown-ass man.”
My brother jumped from the couch and gathered loose clothes. “All right, I’m doing it. Be cool, man.”
“Oh, I’m always cool,” I said with a smirk as I lifted my phone to my ear.
My brother scuttled off to the laundry room. Our mom was a perfectly nice person. Too nice, maybe? She was someone who expected a lot of us, though, and when we didn’t live up to it, we could hear the disappointment in her voice.
I had learned to shrug it off, but Corey was used to being the baby of the family. It was harder for him to own up to his mistakes.
“Hey, Fox,” I said into the phone. “What’s up?”
“Not much. Same shit. I’m sick of this town.”
I chuckled. “You should move to Granville. It’s cute.”
“I don’t think cute is really my vibe.”
Fox was a tattoo artist, and his last boyfriend was a badass biker, so he had a point.
“Omaha, then?” I suggested.
“Actually, that’s a great idea. Let’s go to Omaha for the weekend.”
That wasn’t what I’d meant, and he knew it.
“I’m really not in the mood to play wingman at another gay club.”
The last time we’d gone, I’d gotten felt up by an overeager twink who didn’t bother finding out I wasn’t into men before trying to climb me like a tree. No, thanks.
“So we’ll go to a boring club for the straights, then. Come on, man. It’s not like you have other plans.”
Ouch. That hit home.
Iola had sent me the contact info for my date, but I’d yet to set anything up. I’d never been on a blind date, and I was worried it would be awkward.
But it couldn’t be any worse than a night dealing with Fox when he was in one of his manic moods. I’d end up getting dragged into a sex party or a fight—who knew which?—and I was not in the mood for it.
I seized on the only excuse I had.
“Actually, I have a date this weekend.”
“No, shit?” Fox sounded surprised. “Who with?”
“A local here,” I said vaguely. “It’s our first date, so I really don’t want to show up hungover. Sorry, man. Maybe another time.”
He groaned. “Fine. How about Corey? Think he’s game.”
“Nope,” I said. “He’s with Rachel every weekend. Besides, he needs to focus on getting his life together, not partying with you.”
“Fine.” He sighed. “But you better make time to come out for a beer next week, at least. I’m starting to feel unloved.”
I laughed. “We can’t have that.”
“No, we fucking can’t.”
“I’ll text you later this week, then.”
“All right, man. Talk to you later.”
I clicked Disconnect, feeling a little guilty for dodging Fox. I hadn’t set up the date yet, but after telling him I had, I didn’t want to be a liar.
I called up the contact info Iola had sent me and sent a quick text to my potential date.
Hi. The Matchmaking Mamas gave me your number. I guess we’re a match.
I stared at the message. Was that really the best greeting I could manage. Hi? And could I sound any more apathetic about us being a match?
It would serve me right if she didn’t even bother answering.
Corey leaned in through the doorway. “Hey, my clothes are in the washer. You can tell Mom—”
“I wasn’t talking to Mom.”
“Dude, you faked me out. I feel so betrayed.”
I cracked a grin. My brother had some growing up to do, but he was also my best friend in the world. “How about I make it up to you by making dinner?”
“We can’t just order pizza?”
“You can’t live on take-out for the rest of your life. I agreed to move here to help you out for a while, but I won’t always be here to take care of you.”
“Fuck you, I’m not a child,” he grumbled. “I know how to cook.”
He just never wanted to do it. It was easier to call in delivery and spend money he should be saving to cover his share of the bills.
I didn’t say that, though. Corey was sensitive about his shortcomings, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t heard it before.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m just frustrated. I’ve been trying to get a job and get my shit together. I’ve put in a bunch of apps, but I keep coming up empty.”
I nodded. “It takes time.”
Especially when you didn’t have a good reference for bailing on your last job.
“It didn’t take you any time,” he grumbled.
“Well, I’ve got a pretty niche skill. If Sammi hadn’t wanted to expand BowWow, I’d be in the same boat.”
“I guess,” he said, not sounding convinced.
I should probably push him to try harder, not comfort him, but Corey didn’t take criticism well. He’d exaggerate it in his mind until it was an immovable boulder that held him back.
“Come on,” I said. “You can look for a job again tomorrow. For now, let’s make dinner.”
I threw together chicken, mushrooms, Rotini, and a cream sauce for a simple pasta bake.
Corey scarfed his food as quickly as Bruno inhaled his kibble, then escaped to his room to call his girlfriend.
He’d followed her to Granville when she’d dropped out of college in Riverton, a point of contention with our parents.
A big reason he’d been desperate they not find out how badly everything had fallen apart after he got here.
Not with Rachel. He was in love with her. But she’d moved back in with her family—helping take care of her younger siblings while she figured out what she wanted to do next—and my brother didn’t handle independent living all that well.
I cleaned up the dishes, wiped down the counters, and let Bruno into the fenced-in backyard for a little potty time.
Finally, I ran out of things to do while I waited for a return text from Jamie. Maybe she was working or out with friends or…ghosting me.
I went to my room, took a shower, and stripped down for bed. Just as I was turning out the lights, my phone buzzed with a text.
Hi, Hank! I’m so excited to get a match. Meeting the right guy is so hard, you know?
Relief swept in. My match wasn’t blowing me off for being boring. She seemed genuinely excited I’d reached out.
Hank:
If only people were as easy to love as dogs, right?
Jamie:
Haha. Omg you love dogs too? I guess the Matchmaking Mamas know what they’re doing after all.
I settled back against the pillows, hope fluttering to life. It had been a long time since I’d connected with someone. Maybe Sammi had been right to nudge me into Iola’s matchmaking scheme.
With only a few words, I suddenly remembered how much fun it could be to get to know someone new. To banter and flirt.
To feel that zap of attraction. I hadn’t felt that in months. Hadn’t even tried. But now I was curious if the chemistry would be there in person.
Hank:
So, about this date…
Jamie:
Yes?
Hank:
Is Saturday too soon?
Jamie:
Saturday is great. Text me the details when you have them figured out. I’ll be there.
Okay. So, this was happening then, for better or worse. I had a date Saturday—once I figured out what the heck to plan for someone I barely knew.
And I’d be able to look Fox in the eye, knowing I wasn’t a liar, when we met up next week.
That didn’t stop the nerves from balling up in my stomach, though.
I really hoped it went well, but another part of me was afraid that even if it did, I might just end up right back where I was now, recovering from a messy relationship while secretly envying how easily my brother had fallen in love.