19. ashton #2
The way he came all over my chest, and again on my stomach, after he pulled two orgasms from me without even touching me. Hell, I didn’t even take my pants off.
Even in the cold light of day—as cold as a late summer evening in Texas gets—it was pretty fucking fantastic. And I wouldn’t mind doing it again sometime, although I’m pretty sure he’s never been with the same woman twice.
I shouldn’t want that. I can’t want it.
But I do.
I stop short of reliving the moment in the shower.
I don’t have the energy, and even if I did, there’s a nagging voice in my ear that says my own hands will never be enough anymore.
My favorite vibrator won’t be enough. No man, woman, or person alive will ever be enough if they’re not Brooks Hart.
I shut off the water with a heavy exhale, pushing away all thoughts of my brother’s forbidden best friend and trying to imagine what the inside of my fridge looks like.
I’m rapidly approaching the post-migraine hangover stage now, and I’m absolutely ravenous.
I pull on my pajamas and the matching cotton robe and pad through to the kitchen. The lights are on to combat the fading daylight, and the quiet hum of the gas stove stops me in my tracks before I even reach the end of the hall.
Someone is in my house.
“S’just me, Ashey.”
As quickly as the fear rose, it dissipates at the sound of my brother’s voice announcing himself.
I reach the kitchen to find him at the table in my breakfast nook, squares of patterned paper laid out in front of him and another in his hand, partially folded.
There’s a video paused on his phone screen in front of him and he frowns at it.
“Scared the shit outta me, Evvy. What are you doing here?”
“Told you I’d check in on you. Brought some of Harriet’s chicken noodle soup. You owe my wife an apology, by the way.” He rewinds the video and plays a few seconds of it before pausing it again, then opening one fold of paper and folding another crease perpendicular to it.
“’Scuse you?”
“Ruth wanted to make you something. Soup, some kind of comfort delight, I don’t know. But I told her to wait, cook you something tomorrow maybe. I knew you’d want Harriet’s soup today.”
“She can cook for me whenever she likes,” I say. Then I realize what Everett is really saying. He doesn’t need me to apologise to Ruth. I guess I’m not quite firing on all cylinders again yet. “Harriet made me soup?” I cross the kitchen to the stove, where a saucepan is just beginning to simmer.
“Brooks called her when we left earlier. Think he bribed her with something for it. He was really shook up seeing you sick, Ashey. You guys are okay now, right?”
I stir the pot on the stove. I’m not sure what to think.
Brooks called his sister to ask for my favorite soup—the one Harriet and my mom always used to make when I had migraines in my teens.
He could’ve let Everett take care of me.
Ev would’ve gone into town, or Ruth would’ve made something, but Brooks took charge.
He made sure I had my favorite comfort soup. He wanted to, so he did.
After the way he looked at me, the way he held me last night, the way he carried me back to my bed this morning… all of those thoughts about can’t and shouldn’t are screaming ever louder.
“What do you mean?”
“Y’all had a blow out a couple weeks ago, Ash. I ain’t stupid. Even if Brooks didn’t tell me himself, you know damn well this ranch has ears and eyes everywhere.”
“We’re fine,” I say. And we are. We got over our little spat and went back to being Ashton and Brooks.
Devil and demon. He went back to being my best friend—my annoying, stupidly tall, stupidly nice-smelling, stupidly hot best friend, who also happens to be my big brother’s best friend, too.
Who I rode until we both came—twice—last night.
What a fucking mess.
“So, where is my beautiful sister-in-law?” I turn down the heat and open the cupboard for bowls.
There’s more than enough soup here for both of us, and Everett has left two sleeves of crackers on the counter.
I slide one onto a small plate before dishing out the soup.
Everett grins at the mention of his wife.
“She’s at home, FaceTiming her friends. It’s coming up on her goddaughter’s birthday in a week, and she’s missin’ ‘em a whole lot right now.”
I know what that’s like. We lapse into silence for a moment, spooning soup into our mouths.
At least when I was in New York, Everett, Brooks, and Jody were in the same country.
We were only one time zone apart. Ruth is a whole ocean away from her family, and aside from her best friends, I know she’s close with her brother and parents, too.
“She gonna go back? To London, I mean.” I snap a cracker in half and dunk it into the soup, watching as the liquid seeps into it and the color darkens.
“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. He stirs the spoon around his soup bowl. “She’s flying back in October. Day after my birthday.”
“You goin’ with her?”
“Not right away, but… yeah, I think so. We talked about me flyin’ out after Christmas, before her birthday. Stay in London a few months. Come back here. Split time, you know?”
“Never thought I’d see you leave the ranch.”
“Never thought I’d love anything enough to leave the ranch behind.”
“I’m proud of you, you know?” I drop my spoon in the bowl and reach over to nudge Everett’s arm with a loose fist. “Happy for you. Both of you.”
His face lights up. His eyes are still sad—I assume at the thought of being away from his wife—but his posture lifts at my words.
“Thanks, Ash,” he whispers. “I’m proud of you too. Whatever you do.”
“Even if I eat dirt and get trampled by Jagger?”
“Only if you let me watch and laugh.”
“Asshole.”
“Stuck with me.”
“No one else I’d rather stick with.”