Chapter 4
Janey
I barely make it through the door before laughing. It bubbles out of me so fast, I don’t have time to cover my mouth and smother it.
My body is sore and used, but so pleasure-saturated I feel like I’m walking through warm water.
The Fletcher brothers’ truck splutters to life outside, and tires crunch over the dirt as they pull out of the ranch.
This won’t be the last time I see them, but it feels like the end.
I’m already trying to avoid thinking about how awkward it will be when we come together over another function.
A wedding, maybe. A christening. Another birthday.
We’re connected by friends and family in a way that makes our continued association inevitable, and I guess we’re going to have to find a way to handle it like the adults we are.
I close the door a little too carefully, leaning back against it for a second, letting out a slow breath.
Well.
That happened.
My fingers lift to my lips without thinking, pressing lightly, searching for the echo of their kisses. Heat follows the thought immediately, low and unwelcome now they’re no longer around to satiate it.
“Janey?”
I jerk slightly, dropping my hand as Joelle’s voice floats down the hall.
“In here,” I call, aiming for normal and missing by a mile.
She appears a second later, barefoot, with her hair loose around her shoulders, wearing one of Wade’s or Caleb’s shirts. It swamps her almost to the knees. Her eyes land on me and narrow slightly.
“Oh,” she says.
That’s it.
Just oh.
I cross my arms instinctively. “What?”
She takes a step closer, studying my face like she’s reading a message written there in big, obvious letters.
Just had the filthiest sex ever recorded on planet earth in your barn.
“You look…” she tilts her head, considering “…different.”
“Different how?”
Her mouth curves. “Flushed. Slightly dazed.”
I feel the heat climb my neck again, fast and unstoppable. “I slept.”
“Mm-hmm. Your chin looks like it’s been sanded and you have straw in your hair.”
There is no point pretending with Joelle. There never has been. Especially when the evidence is right in front of her face.
I exhale, dragging a hand through my hair, finding more than one strand of hay. “Okay, fine.”
Her eyebrows lift immediately. “Fine?”
“I might have…” I hesitate, then push through it. “Stayed in the barn.”
“In the barn?”
“Yes.”
“With?” she asks, already knowing the answer.
I give her a look.
Her smile widens slowly. “Both of them?”
I press my lips together.
That’s apparently all the confirmation she needs.
“Oh my God,” she breathes, equal parts delighted and stunned. “Janey.”
“I know.”
“You—” she stops, laughs softly, then tries again. “You never do things like this.”
“I’m aware.”
She steps closer, lowering her voice even though we’re alone. “So… was it—”
“Yes.” I grin broadly, memories cascading through me. “Yes. It absolutely was.”
Joelle’s eyes light up. “That good?”
“It was…” I search for words that don’t sound ridiculous. “Different.”
“Different? That doesn’t sound complimentary. Different how?”
I shake my head, laughing quietly under my breath. “I don’t even know how to explain it.”
“That won’t stop me from asking.”
I glance away, then back at her, lowering my voice without meaning to.
“It wasn’t only physical,” I admit. “It was the way they—” I stop, trying to find the right words. “The way they were both there. At the same time. Like I didn’t have to choose where to look or how to react. I just…” I trail off, exhaling softly. “They made me feel it.”
Joelle watches me carefully now, her expression shifting from playful to thoughtful.
“Yeah,” she says. “I get that.”
I swallow, nodding once.
“And you’re okay?” she asks after a second. “No regrets this morning?”
That should be an easy question.
It isn’t.
I think about the way Mason looked at me. The way Brookes watched. The way my body still feels like it hasn’t fully settled back into itself. It’s going to take more than a couple of hours to heal the wreckage they’ve left behind.
I shake my head slowly. “No,” I say. Then, more honestly, “That’s kind of the problem.”
Her mouth curves again, softer this time. “Because you want more?”
I let out a quiet breath. “That’s not possible.”
She raises an eyebrow.
“I mean, I shouldn’t want more. I can’t,” I correct quickly. “It was one night. That’s all it can be. You know what my folks are like.”
Joelle doesn’t respond right away. She leans back against the counter, studying me the same way she did when I first walked in. “I know what your folks are like.”
“Exactly.”
“And I get why you care about what they think. They’re in your life, and they care.”
Poor Joelle only has a mom who’s more interested in her own love life than anything her daughter might be going through.
I open my mouth, then close it again. “They are.”
“But if they weren’t, what would you want?”
I glance toward the window without meaning to, toward the stretch of land beyond it, where the barn sits in the distance. It’ll always be the place where my desires were awakened, until I put them back in a box.
I don’t know how to answer her question. It’s a hypothetical I have no business considering.
Last night was an interlude in my life. A few hours where I could live in a different skin and push the boundaries that confine me to the absolute limits.
But now, I have to put it all aside and pretend nothing happened in that barn. Pretend I’m the Janey I was before Mason and Brookes Fletcher took me apart and put me back together.
“I’m leaving this morning,” I say, more to convince myself than her.
Joelle nods slowly. “You don’t have to. You can stay as long as you like. But I understand.”
I could stay, but the Fletcher brothers live close enough to drop by after a hard day's work, and I know I won’t be able to resist them if they do.
Once, I can pass off as experience.
Once, I can guard my heart.
But twice?
Twice is the start of a habit, and habits are painful to break.
“You won’t try to talk me out of it?” I ask.
She smiles a little. “Would it work?”
“No.”
“Then I won’t waste my breath.”
I huff out a quiet laugh, shaking my head.
“Just…” she adds, her tone gentler now, “don’t pretend it didn’t mean anything if it did.”
I look at her, my chest tightening unexpectedly.
“It didn’t mean anything,” I say automatically.
She gives me a look that says she knows me better than that.
And the worst part is… she might be right.
***
On the drive home, my thoughts are crowded, layered over each other, making it hard to focus on anything for more than a second at a time.
I keep replaying what happened. The way they touched me and the way my body responded, like it had been waiting for them.
The quieter moments linger. The way Mason said my name like it carried weight, and buried his face in my neck, relishing my tender fingers in his hair.
The way Brookes watched, so patiently, like he was certain I’d go to him without being asked.
The soft kisses we shared as he wrapped me up in his warmth.
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, letting out a slow breath. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. One night is supposed to fade. It’s supposed to blur at the edges and soften into a memory you can tuck away and revisit safely in your own head without it disrupting everything else.
This doesn’t feel like anything like that. It feels like it’s following me home.
By the time I pull into my driveway, the longing for strong arms and passionate kisses has settled deeper instead of lifting.
Home should fix that.
Home is my sanctuary.
My house looks exactly the same as it did when I left it.
It’s neat, quiet, and predictable since Joelle and Little Caleb left.
Everything has a place, and nothing moves unless I decide it should.
I sit in the car for a moment after turning off the engine, staring at the front door, and reminding myself that this is my life.
This is the version of me that makes sense. The version that meets approval.
I can squeeze myself back into the round peg that fits in the round hole. The corners I developed when I was wild and free with Mason and Brookes aren’t so sharp. They’ll be easy to sand away with a shower and a good night's sleep.
I grab my bag and head inside before I can think anymore.
The soft hum of the fridge greets me, along with the scents of home as I step through the door: my apple shower soap, and the cinnamon buns I made two days before I left for Joelle’s. It should feel comforting, but instead, it feels too quiet.
I set my bag down and head straight for the bathroom, turning the shower on hotter than usual, as though heat might wash away the lingering awareness still clinging to my skin, but every place the water touches feels more sensitive, as though my body hasn’t quite accepted that it’s over.
My hands move over my skin without much thought, and memory follows immediately, vivid and uninvited.
Between my legs, I’m slick and swollen, the residue of our arousal still present.
I brace my hands against the tile and close my eyes.
This is ridiculous.
It was one night.
So, why does it feel like a shift?
I finish quickly, step out, and wrap myself in a towel. For a moment, I avoid the mirror, but eventually I look anyway.
Joelle was right.
I do look different.
There’s a lightness in my expression that wasn’t there before. A brightness to my eyes. An upturn to the slant of my lips. I shake my head, dress in simple loungewear, and move through the house on autopilot. I unpack my bag, start a load of laundry, and make a cup of tea that I forget to drink.
Normal things.
I check over my calendar for the week, immersing myself back into Janey Summer’s life.
Then, my phone buzzes against the counter.
I glance over, expecting Joelle, but the screen lights up with a number I don’t recognize.
My stomach tightens slightly as I pick it up.
You made it home?
The message is simple with no name attached.
My pulse picks up. Mason. It has to be. Brookes wouldn’t open like that. I guess someone passed on my number.
I stare at the message for a moment, my thumb hovering over the screen as I consider ignoring it. That would be the sensible choice.
Before I can decide, the phone buzzes again.
Are you still thinking about last night?
My breath catches, and I set the phone down for a second as though it scalded me, pacing a few steps across the kitchen before stopping again.
He shouldn’t do that. It was a one-night stand, but he wants to know.
Of course he does.
Heat curls low in my stomach, and I pick the phone back up despite myself.
I’m home, I type, then pause, staring at the words. They feel too neutral and careful, but I still send them.
The reply comes almost immediately.
Good.
There’s a short pause, and then another message follows.
I can still taste you.
My thighs press tightly, the memory of his tongue on my clit almost physical. I lean back against the counter, exhaling in a rush.
He isn’t going to let this be simple, and I don’t know whether I’m annoyed or relieved. I guess I’m not so easy to walk away from. Everything that affected me about our time together seems to have affected him the same way.
I type, delete, then type again.
It was one night.
His response comes quickly.
Did it feel like that to you?
I close my eyes briefly. No, it didn’t, and that’s the problem.
I don’t answer right away, and the silence stretches long enough to feel intentional before my phone buzzes again.
Didn’t think so.
My grip tightens around the phone. This is exactly what I didn’t want. I should shut him down. I should be firm and clear enough to end it before it gets any more complicated.
It’s already more complicated.
Instead, I find myself typing—
What do you want, Mason?
This time, the pause is longer.
Long enough that I start to think I’ve pushed too far. Then the reply comes through.
You.
The word sits there on the screen, a simple and direct thump to the center of my chest. My body reacts before my mind catches up. This is how it starts, if I let it. With simple messages that I don’t resist as strongly as I should.
I stare at the screen, my reflection faintly visible in the glass.
Joelle’s words echo quietly in the back of my mind.
Don’t pretend it didn’t mean anything if it did.
I exhale slowly, then type—That wasn’t part of the deal.
There’s a short pause before the response comes through.
We didn’t make a deal, Janey.
My heart stutters. He’s right. We didn’t.
That’s where I went wrong. We should have agreed on a plan and made a decision rather than tumbling into a barn to fuck. They’re not strangers. They’re Caleb and Wade’s cousins. As long as I’m friends with Joelle, they’ll be in my life. And I plan on holding her friendship tight.
I stare at Mason’s last message. We didn’t make a deal.
No, I reply. But we should have.