Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
florence
Attendance at family dinners isn’t out of necessity. It’s good for the soul. My safe space. Memories plaster the walls, love and laughter ingrained deep in the foundations.
My mom’s home cooking, spending time with my niece, and winding my brothers up is a routine I missed while traveling. It can be tricky getting us all under one roof, but tonight, it’s a full house. Except for Aly and Booth, of course.
Oh, and my lumberjack.
Dex won’t be back until tomorrow, leaving his usual seat to my right vacant.
It didn’t seem that long ago we were celebrating Pat and Jo’s engagement, and tonight, all eyes are on Graham and Quinn. After collecting the keys to their first home together, my brother popped the question. No doubt, they’ll be exchanging vows soon.
“It’s a fixer-upper, but that’s what we love about it,” Quinn says, excitement brimming from her as she describes their new home to the table. She turns to Graham, grinning widely. My reserved middle brother stares at her lovingly, completely besotted with our little baker.
“A nice big kitchen for you,” Graham adds. “And it’s only a street away.”
Quinn squeezes his arm and aims her smile at Pat and Jo. “Our kids will practically be neighbors."
“If it’s Graham’s kid, they’ll be playing inside with their abacus,” Patrick teases, earning a middle finger from Graham.
“Be nice,” my mom chastises. Then, her attention turns to me. “Florence, you haven’t told us how the job is going. How is Dex treating you?”
I still. Garlic and rich tomato waft up my nose as the forkful of pasta bake pauses an inch from my mouth. “Dex treats me…fine.”
“Fine?” Patrick echoes. “He better be treating you better than fine, Flo, or I’ll be having words with my best friend.”
It’s a joke, one everyone finds amusing, but all color drains from my face while my cheeks scorch simultaneously. Everyone is oblivious.
“Oh, that reminds me. Did you receive a letter from Dexter’s insurance with the effective date of coverage? Once the paperwork is submitted, you can arrange the doctor’s appointment.”
My mother doesn’t have a mean bone in her body, but she does have a big mouth.
One she currently has her hand clapped over, eyes wide.
The table goes quiet.
It was never my intention to hide my ADHD for so long. I wanted to understand it more myself and be prepared for all the questions my brothers would fire my way. Cat’s out of the bag now.
“What appointment?” Graham asks worryingly.
“Are you sick?” Concern etches Patrick’s face.
Lottie taps my shoulder, tears clinging to her lashes. “Are you dying?”
“Oh my god!” I protest and scoop my niece onto my lap, soothing her. “You’re all so dramatic.” Exhaling slowly, I address the room. “I have ADHD.”
There are a mix of reactions around the table.
Quinn surprises me by speaking first. “A spicy brain. I love it.”
Johanna smiles from across the table. “That’s why you’re so creative.”
My chest swells with emotion. Less distressed, my brothers exchange a look.
“I didn’t know you were being tested.” Patrick’s tone is off. Since our dad passed, he struggles not being in the know.
“Don’t make a big deal out of it. I’ve had my suspicions for a while and was diagnosed before I went backpacking.” I shrug. “Mom’s insurance is more expensive, so I moved to Dex’s.”
“Two years ago? Flo, that’s not responsible.” Patrick sets down his silverware. “Does this explain…”
He doesn’t need to finish his sentence. Ire replaces the wholesome sensation. Sensing the shift in the air, Lottie wriggles off me and tiptoes over to Jo.
“Does this explain why I’m such a screw up? Yeah, Pat, it does.”
“That’s not what I mean.” He leans forward.
I don’t break eye contact. “What did you mean then?”
“You’ve always been a little spontaneous. All I’m saying is this explains it.” He grimaces at his choice of words when I blink at him silently. “Okay, maybe not the right way to describe it.”
The ring on my finger works overtime. “Not everything about my personality is associated with my neurodiversity. Maybe that’s just me.”
He glances down at his plate, and I feel bad for chewing him out—until Graham decides to chime in.
“There’s also a shortage of medication at the moment, something you need to consider,” my middle brother adds. Quinn nudges him with her elbow—he doesn’t get the hint. “And what about therapy, have you considered that? You’re not obligated to inform Dex, but it might help if he’s aware.”
This is exactly why I kept it under wraps. They have a long list of questions, and because of my procrastination and avoidance, I’m without the answers.
Too overwhelmed to remain sitting, I push back, the legs of my chair screeching across the floor.
“This is why I didn’t want to tell either of you.
” I wave my hands above my head. “You’re suffocating me.
I’m twenty-four years old. Trust me to handle my life.
And for your information, Dex has known for months, and the last thing he did was berate me.
So maybe he’s the one who needs to have a conversation with you, Pat.
” I point between the two of them. “Neither of you asked how I’m feeling about this, you just presumed the worst as usual.
Is it really any surprise I kept it a secret?
Booth isn’t innocent, but at least he listens to me.
Do you know how hurtful it is every time you roll your eyes at me for being late or chastise me for speaking without thinking? ”
They both recoil.
“Yes, I’m spontaneous, flaky, unreliable, whatever you want to call it, but I bet you’d struggle to cope a day in my shoes.” I tap my temple. “It’s a hot mess up here, and I’m working really hard to understand it. Be my brothers, not my keepers.”
Mom nods in approval. Johanna appears impressed. Quinn gives me a thumbs-up. Lottie glowers at her dad. Girls supporting girls.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need the restroom.” And to perish from shame.
I dart out of the dining room, down the corridor, and into the guest bathroom at the back of the house.
Safely inside, I stare at my reflection. Then, I let out an almighty belly laugh. Tears line my eyes. I’m hysterical, but shit, it feels good. I’ll apologize to my brothers eventually, for now, they can stew in guilt.
It’s not how I planned it, and maybe the reveal could’ve used more tact, but it’s out in the universe now, and already, my shoulders feel lighter.
There’s a knock on the door.
“Occupado,” I call.
Another knock, louder this time.
There is zero privacy under this roof. I swing the door open, ready to fire my rebuke. It dies on my lips when a large body hustles inside, sealing our fronts together and kicking the door closed without a backward glance.
“Dex,” I gasp. “What are you doing here?”
He doesn’t utter a word. Smoke swirls around his blown-out pupils. The air around him pulsates, luring me in until I’m balanced on the tips of my toes, desperate for a hit of his scent. Patchouli and campfire linger on his clothes, mixed with the smell of fresh sawdust.
Large hands white-knuckle the counter on either side of my hips, and an unmistakable bulge throbs against my belly.
Home would’ve been his first stop before driving here, perhaps to his bedroom, meaning he found the gift I left for him.
A sly smile tilts the corners of my mouth. “You were missed this evening. Have you said hi to everyone?”
The staccato of his breathing increases, jaw clenching. His words snake around me, manipulating my senses. “No one saw me come into the house. I did catch the end of your speech, which leaves me in a dilemma, Florence.”
I love the way he drawls my name, like sinking into sweet molasses. Never Flo. Always Florence.
Nobody knows we’re together, a detail that shouldn’t thrill me.
“What’s the dilemma?” I bat my eyelashes.
His hand darts up to grasp my jaw, his grip firm but gentle.
It’s magnetic, the way my body curves toward him, bending and twisting so every inch of us is touching.
“I came here to teach you a lesson. Before that, I want you to know one thing.” He presses a kiss to my lips. “I’m proud of you. Good job.”
I ignite under his praise. “You said something about a lesson…”
“It’s rude to leave your toys out on my bed,” he grits. The rough pad of his thumb brushes over my bottom lip. “Do you enjoy torturing me?”
“Me?” Voice honeyed, dripping with defiance, I arch into him. “That doesn’t sound like me.”
I’m guilty as the day is long. When I hung up on Dex last night, my fun didn’t end. As instructed, in only his shirt, I left my scent on his sheets—while getting myself off on them.
I may have left it front and center on his bed before leaving for my mom’s house.
Oops.
Dex growls, and before he can respond, I open my mouth, swirling my tongue over his thumb.
A deep purr travels up his throat. The tension is akin to a thunderstorm. Flashes and bolts spark between us, and the more I tease, the closer to the eye of the storm we drift. Electricity drives from my body into his; our passion is a living, breathing current of energy.
Thunder is next, and the crack is audible when I bare my teeth, biting down lightly.
Boom.
The room spins. My surprised expression appears in the mirror, his rugged face hovering behind me. He rucks my dress up around my waist and cracks a palm over my exposed skin.
“Dex!” I cry then slap a hand over my mouth. We’re on the opposite end of the house from the dining room, and though I can hear the tumble dryer shaking next door, anyone could stumble back here.
Dex looms behind me. “I could fucking smell you. On my sheets, my shirts. That goddamn toy.” He nips at my shoulder while one hand journeys south to cup my ass cheek, squeezing and lifting. With deft movements, he yanks my thong down my legs and guides me to step out of it.