22. Chapter 21
Chapter 21
Finnley
I pull up to Wren and Hank’s cabin fifteen minutes later. Barreling up the three small steps, I zip the jacket I hastily grabbed from my backseat and bang my knuckles on the door four times.
“Wren?” I call out, almost hysterically. “You home?” I know she is. Her truck is parked next to the cabin. I try to peek through the window, but the curtains are drawn.
A couple of seconds later, she opens the door, phone in hand and concern on her face.
“Oh, thank God!” I screech. “I’m totally freaking out!” I push past her into the small cabin.
“By all means, come in,” she says, and then, “What’s the matter?”
I whirl to face her and dramatically throw out a hand. “I just saw Hudson’s dick,” I blurt.
Wren straightens, eyes wide, and a little gasp escapes.
“Woah, sister! Did she just say what I think she said?” comes a voice I recognize as Ginger’s from the phone in Wren’s hand.
Wren cranes her neck toward the back of the cabin .
“Oh, God. Is Hank here?” I whisper-shout. “His truck isn’t outside.”
Wren nods and shuffles back a step to close the door. “It’s over at the house site, and yes, he’s in the shower. So, unless want him hearing you, keep your voice down.” She holds up the phone. “Ginger, I’ll call you back.”
“Hell, no, you won’t. I want to hear about Hudson’s dick,” Ginger says.
Wren raises her eyebrows at me for approval and I sigh. “It’s fine.” I say, flopping down on the two-seater loveseat next to the woodburning stove. “I’m already humiliated as it is.” It’s not the complete truth. I mean, it’s embarrassing, sure, but what’s really got me tangled up is how much I liked what I saw.
“Hold on,” Wren says to Ginger, and she hands me the phone. “And you, hold this.” She crosses the room and gathers clothes, then cracks open the bathroom door, steam rolling out.
Visions of Hudson fill my mind again. I glance over and take in the rumpled bed, the covers skewed and hanging crazily over the side. I yank my gaze away from their bed, groaning. I can’t catch a break. First, I watch my best friend jerk off, and now, I’m staring at what appears to be my other best friend’s sex-rumpled bed.
“Babe, Finn is here. So, don’t come out nude.”
Hank says something I can't make out and Wren laughs. Shutting the door, she comes to plop down next to me, her pregnant belly cradled in her hand. She tugs my sleeve until I’m right against her, shoulder-to-shoulder, and we’re framed in the screen so Ginger can see us both.
“Did I interrupt you two doing it?” I ask point-blank, taking in her bare feet and robe tied tight around her waist.
“No, that was me,” Ginger says with a laugh.
Wren rolls her eyes. “No one interrupted anything. You honestly think we’re stopping to answer the phone or the door?” she asks, propping her feet up and turning her head to look at me. “Now, spill. ”
With a wide grin on her face, Ginger perches on her bed with a pillow in her lap and places her chin in her hand, clearly settling in for the tea.
My eyes dart to the bathroom door, and I lower my voice so only Ginger and Wren can hear me. I do not need Hank overhearing this conversation. “I watched him jerk off in the shower,” I mumble out of the side of my mouth.
A moment of stunned silence hangs in the air before Ginger’s maniacal laugh fills the silence. Wren’s mouth drops open.
“Oh, God…” I say, my eyes wide, before clamping my hand over my mouth.
Wren gives a breathy laugh. “Wait… Like, you just got a glimpse and left, or you watched ?”
I roll my lips together into a straight line and nod, my cheeks flushing with heat. I can’t believe I’m admitting this. Out loud. With Hudson’s brother in the next room. Thank God for the shower running, or I don’t think I’d have the courage to continue this conversation.
“Oh, I absolutely watched .”
Wren blows out a breath and sits back, letting out a surprised laugh.
“I love a good jerk off in the shower story,” Ginger supplies, helpfully.
I drop my head back against the couch, squeezing my eyes shut. “This is bad,” I mumble. “This is really fucking bad.” How am I ever going to look at him again? How can I not? My scalp prickles.
“Stop.” Wren laughs. “You guys live together; it was bound to happen sooner or later.”
I pop my head up and shoot her a horrified look. “Me watching Hudson jerk off was not bound to happen!”
She rolls her eyes. “I just meant, one of you seeing the other naked was bound to happen. You know, on accident.”
“Or on purpose,” Ginger says, wiggling her eyebrows.
“Fuck my life,” I whine .
“Oh, come on. Maybe it’s not that bad. Start at the beginning. Tell us what happened.” Wren nudges me.
“And don’t leave a damn thing out,” Ginger adds.
I blow out a breath and bite my lip. I may as well tell them. They will bug me about it until I die, and this is the whole reason I came running to Wren, isn’t it? Talking through my feelings about it could help, right?
“I came home, and his truck was gone. So, I figured he wasn’t home. I needed to do some laundry, but he’d left his stuff in the dryer, so I took it to his room.” I twist my hands in my lap, and I swear my eyes glaze over thinking about it. All that exposed skin. I press the back of my hand to my cheek as it heats.
Ginger asks, “You didn’t think to knock?”
“I didn’t think he was home ,” I insist.
Wren nudges me. “Continue.”
“Yeah, get to the part about his dick,” Ginger interrupts.
My throat is so dry, and I need to do something with my hands, or I’m going to pick the cuticle on my thumb until it bleeds. “Can I have some water?”
Wren gets up to grab me a bottle of water, then returns to the couch, holding it out to me. I uncap it and drink like it’s the last thing I’ll ever drink. When I’m finished, I recap the bottle and continue.
“I had my earbuds in, so I didn’t even hear the shower.” Stupid, freaking sexy audiobook. “I didn’t notice he was even in there, until the steam hit me in the face. And he was just…there.” My voice rises an octave as I go on. “With his…in his hand…and he was…” I gesture wildly, mimicking a man masturbating. Anyone who saw this conversation without sound would probably think I was having a spasmodic episode.
“What did you do?” Wren asks through a laugh at the same time Ginger asks, “Did he see you? ”
“Not at first, but… Oh, God, I should have looked away. I should have left. Right? Why didn’t I leave?” My mind cycles through it all like a superhot, sexy porno.
“Forget leaving. What’s his cock like?” Ginger coos, bouncing her eyebrows lasciviously.
“Ginger!” Wren admonishes, still laughing.
“What? I’m curious.” Wren shakes her head and Ginger asks, “Well?”
I hop off the couch and start pacing three steps one way, then three steps back. Why does this cabin have to be so fucking small?
“I am not talking about my best friend's junk.” I swipe my hands through the air, screwing up my features into what I hope is a look of determination. Because what I really want to do is talk about my best friend’s junk. I’m already fantasizing about him when I’m alone. And now, he’s my husband. But I can’t tell them that, and a bit of guilt about that niggles the back of my mind. The water in the pond that is my life is getting so fucking muddy.
I glance at Wren, where she’s reclined back on the small loveseat, feet planted wide, and rubbing small circles on her belly. The look she’s giving me makes me want to crawl out of my skin. She knows . Not about the marriage, but the feelings. She’s like a super-secret, sleuth spy with X-ray vision. Her kids are going to be screwed. Nothing gets past her. She sees right through my bullshit, and if Ginger was here, she would, too.
“What?” I throw my arms wide and pin her with a look.
“Finnley.” She hits me with a patronizing look. “This is Hudson.” She says that statement like it should explain everything, and I’m hit with the realization that this conversation sounds sickeningly familiar to one I had with her about Hank not so long ago. But I choose to ignore that little detail.
I roll my eyes, hoping if I put a little more sass on it, it’ll disguise the fact that I don’t know exactly what she’s talking about. “Yes, Hudson . My best friend.” Husband , my mind screams. And God, I love how that sounds. I really, really love it.
Wren laughs sardonically, as if to say, you silly, little girl . “We’ve been over this . You and I are best friends.” She gestures between us, and then points at the phone. “Ginger and I are best friends. You and Hudson are…something else.”
Ginger hums like Wren hit the nail on the head, and I stomp my foot.
“Something not best friends,” Wren continues.
“Well, not anymore.” Ginger laughs.
“What do you mean, not anymore?” I swear I’m yelling. And I’m sweating. Profusely. This is exactly what I was afraid would happen.
“Listen, you didn’t just get a peek,” Ginger starts when I flop back down next to Wrenley. “You just said you watched your so-called best friend jerk off.” Ginger’s eyebrows hike up her forehead the more she goes on.
“But you left, right? When you realized what he was doing?” Wren interjects.
The look on my face must tell her all she needs to know, because Ginger lets out a low whistle.
“You watched him… finish ?” Wren whispers, with a glance toward the bathroom when the shower shuts off.
I bite my lip and nod with a groan.
“Of course, she did!” Ginger practically yells. “I knew I liked you, Finnley Jameson.”
Wren lets out a nervous chuckle. “Best friends don’t do that.”
“Wren, stooopppp,” I whine like a petulant teenager.
“I say, fuck him,” Ginger announces, and I wince with a glance toward the back of the cabin.
“You would,” Wren pipes up with a laugh.
I let out a sigh. “Not. Helping,” I bite out, but they continue laughing, clearly enjoying my misery. The bitches . I scowl. Besides, I already thought about that. My God, when did this happen? When did I start thinking about doing filthy things with my best friend? I’m a horrible person.
“What do I do? What do I say? It’s not like I can avoid him forever; we live together.” All I can think about is that I want my best friend. Badly.
“What do you want to happen?” Ginger asks, while Wren is quiet. I’ve probably stunned her stupid.
“I want to never have seen his junk,” I say, letting my hands slap against my knees.
Liar .
“But was it good? Maybe you should watch again.” She pumps her eyebrows salaciously.
“Ginger, no!” I whisper-shout.
I am going to Hell for lying. I don’t want to watch; I want to help next time. God, please let there to be a next time.
“What? You’re both single, and you obviously liked it, or you wouldn’t have watched.” She shrugs, studying her nails.
I swallow hard. “It was so hot…and he’s, like, completely perfect. Every inch. You have no idea.”
“I have some idea,” Wren finally pipes up, amusement twinkling in her brown eyes.
“Oh, God, Hank. ” I say, drawing out his name. “Do brothers have similar dicks? Fuck, now I’m thinking about what Hank’s dick looks like. Shit. Sorry,” I whisper. Knowing Hank is less than ten feet away behind the bathroom door and could possibly be hearing every word of this conversation is humiliating.
No, not humiliating. This is mortifying.
Wren snorts.
“So, you did like it?” Ginger grins.
I drop my head into my hands. Then, without lifting it, I mumble out, “Does it matter? ”
“Yeah, Finnley. It matters,” Ginger says with a laugh.
Wren shrugs, her expression unaffected. “You can’t tell me you’ve honestly never thought about it.”
I roll my eyes, straightening. “Hudson’s dick? No.”
She pins me with that look again. The one that tells me she knows I’m a big, fat, lying liar. My eyebrow twitches. Twice. Fuck.
Wren tips her head at me. “I mean, have you ever thought about him sexually? He’s attractive. No one would blame you.”
“Of course, he’s attractive!” I almost screech, throwing a hand out. “He’s a Hayes . All those fuckers are hot.” I grimace because the walls in this cabin cannot be thick enough for Hank to not have heard that part of this completely unhinged conversation.
“So, there you go,” Ginger says, matter-of-factly. “You’ve thought about it.”
I squeeze my eye shut and shake my head. When I open them, I swear they’re crazed. “Ok, yes. I have thought about it once or twice. Especially when he wears those goddamn gray sweatpants.” I throw my arms in the air. “Don’t guys know what those do to women?”
Wren and Ginger exchange a look through the phone. I ignore them and continue. “But it’s ridiculous because we’re best friends, and he is literally all I have. I could never cross that line with him.” I don’t add that we’re already crossing friendship lines left, right, and center with the whole marriage business.
“What about friends with benefits?” Ginger asks.
I can’t . Do I want to? Absolutely, but if I give into these feelings and get even more attached, when this ends, I’ll lose everything.
“Just because I watched doesn’t mean I’m interested in Hudson.”
More lies.
Ginger looks pensive as she watches me through the screen, pinning her bottom lip between her finger and thumb .
“Ok, so, just forget it then,” Wren suggests after a few beats, shrugging as if it’s that easy. “This is Hudson we’re talking about here. He’ll probably make a joke about it.”
She’s right. He absolutely will. “But I can’t unsee what I saw,” I whine again and bite my lip. “I mean, I just stood there, like some incestuous creeper. I couldn’t look away.” I didn’t want to look away.
“Girl, incest is between relatives,” Wrenley says, like I’m being completely ridiculous. “You guys are both adults. And not related.”
“Fuck.” I’m running out of reasons why I shouldn’t give into what I want. We’re married, we’re clearly both very attracted to one another, and I trust him more than anyone else I know.
“I don’t buy it,” Ginger pipes up, a smug look on her freckled face. “You watched him jerk off. To completion , I might add. You’re interested.”
I shoot Wren a pleading look, begging her to be the voice of reason here, because asking my best friend—my secret husband—to sleep with me sounds really fucking appealing right now. But she isn’t. That has me nervous and excited all at once.
“I mean, she’s not wrong.” Then, as if she just thought of it, she says, “What did he say? How did he react?”
“He literally saw me watching as he came, Wrenley. Like, on the final tug. It…it was just…everywhere, all over the shower door. He just kept coming. Who knew that was so hot? Like, I can’t stop thinking about it.” Can’t stop thinking about… him .
“Oh, Jesus Christ, this just gets better and better.” Ginger cackles.
Wren grimaces. “What did you do when he saw you?”
I pull my braid through my fingers, something I do when I’m nervous. “I dropped the towels and ran like hell.”
Wren nods slightly. “When did this happen?”
“Like, twenty minutes ago,” I say, dropping my braid and wringing my hands in my lap .
My phone vibrates and I pull it out, flipping it over to check the screen. It’s an incoming text from Hudson, and I chuck the phone down on the couch like it’s poisonous. “Shit. He’s texting me. He’s already called three times since I left the house.”
“What’s he saying?” Ginger asks.
“I can’t look.” I pick up the phone and shove it at Wren. “You look.”
She makes an exasperated noise, but takes my phone, flipping it over. “It's not like he can see you.”
“I have my read receipts on, though. He’ll know that I know that he knows that I read it.” It’s stupid, but now that I’ve given a voice to my desires—even if only in my head—I can think of little else.
Wren tosses me a dry look. “And he’ll still think you read it even if I open it.”
“Just open it!” Ginger hollers.
Wren clicks into the message and reads it.
“What does it say?” I bite my lip.
She turns the phone toward me, and I lean over like it might be a snake ready to strike.
Huddy: Hey, will you call me please? We should talk.
“Uh-uh. No way. I am not calling him,” I say, pushing Wren’s hand and the phone away.
“Calling who?” Hank asks, drying his hair on a towel as he comes striding out of the bathroom.