Page 127 of Making Choices

When I try to slide down from Slash’s back, he refuses to let me go. Arms locked under my knees, he keeps me in place. The unease building in me reaches fever pitch as the Hudson brothers lapse into silence. As their tense standoff turns into a staring competition, I decide that the only way to break the tension is to separate them.

“Why don’t you set a bar stool out under the back patio,” I tell Hunter. After he gives me a sharp nod and strides off to do as I asked, I turn my attention to Slash. My touch is gentle as I run my palm over his cheek. He leans into it, although he stiffens when I say, “Need you to let me go.”

Once he loosens his arms, I slide down his back to my feet, then I step around to face him. There’s a forlorn expression etched in his perfectly symmetrical features that makes my heart skip a beat. Sad Slash is an unwelcome sight at any time. Seeing this sombre version of him in the wake of a disagreement with his little brother hits even harder.

“Hey.” I worm my way into his stiff embrace. His long arms immediately close around me as soon as I wrap my arms around his back. “You know what Hunter’s like, just take it with a pinch of salt. He doesn’t mean to come off as judgemental.”

“I know.”

“Good.” Smiling up at him, I wiggle my eyebrows. “Now, why don’t I get the coffee pot started while you call up the rest of the brothers? If I’m going to be trimming Hunter’s hair, I might as well do them all.”

Slash holds me out from him. “As long as you promise to do mine first?”

“Of course.” I push up to my tiptoes and, reading my intentions, Slash slumps forward. After pressing a kiss to his cheek, I pat his face again. For a second time, he leans into my touch, and the squirmy feeling in my belly returns. “You know you’re my best man.”

My reminder of his comment after Alex’s attack brings the light back to his eyes.

The uneasy feeling makes me feel nauseous... and vaguely guilty.

I step away from him. “Tell Isaiah to bring bacon, eggs, and rolls… no doubt they’re all as hungover as we are. Some grease will make us all feel better.”

Without waiting for his reply, I hurry away into the kitchen. Palms on the counter, I brace myself as I battle through the maelstrom of weirdness that’s attempting to incapacitate me. Ten deep breaths later, I have myself under control well enough to make a start on the coffee.

“Good mornin’, lil cuz,” Toker crows as he limps into the kitchen. “Nice to see you up and about after the night you had.”

I’m spooning coffee beans into Slash’s fancy grinder so my attention is split between my cheeky cousin and the job at hand when I ask, “What happened last night?”

“Well, for starters, you got high off Hunter’s supply, then—”

“Then she had the night of her life on the dance floor,” Slash interrupts Toker. My head shoots up and I spill some of the beans over the counter. The two big men exchange a heated look that’s reminiscent of the stare off between Hunter and Slash. Unlike Slash’s exchange with his little brother, my cousin concedes quickly. Toker inclines his head almost imperceptibly, and my man-bunned best friend turns his focus on me, grinning wide as he tells me, “That was before you smoked almost an entire joint in the van on the way home and passed out on my lap.”

“No,” I exclaim. “I did not.”

“Yeah, you did,” Toker happily informs me. “Little Cherub got high as a kite, then mellow as a warm ball sack.”

I gag at the visual he’s conjured.

“Don’t tease her. It’s not her fault she’s an MDMA novice… and a weed lightweight.” When I glare at Slash, he chuckles and moves closer. After nudging me with his hip, he takes the coffee beans out of my hands. “I’ll get this on while you make a start on Hunter’s trim. He’s got a meetin’ to get to, so I said he can go first.”

I don’t need anyone to tell me who Hunter’s meeting is with.

The heaviness that invades the kitchen is an answer all on its own.

Zeke.

“I’ll come with you,” Toker says.

He follows me through the house. As we reach the bay doors that open up onto Slash’s beautiful back yard, my cousin catches hold of my wrist. Toker pulls me around, then he licks his thumb and swipes at the corner of my mouth.

“Yuck.” Shuddering, I step out of his reach when he tries to rub at my skin again. “That’s disgusting.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” he asks. When I cringe, he throws his hands in the air. “Mother’s do it all the time.”

“But you’re not my mother.”

“So, I should let you walk around with crust in the corner of your mouth?”

“Well, no… just tell me that it’s there instead.”

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