Page 38 of After All This Time

And now I'm hard. Again.

I need to get the hell out of here.

If she knew the thoughts racing through my head right now, she'd cut me off faster than I could blink—shut me out without a second thought. And I can't risk that. I can't lose her, not over some impulse I can barely control. She's too important, too woven into my life, and I'd rather suffer in silence than watch her walk away from me.

I head straight to the bar, cigarette already between my lips before I'm fully out the door. The lighter flicks to life, and I inhale that first drag like it's oxygen—not smoke, but survival.

Frank's is our spot.

Need to unwind? Frank's.

Need to drink and talk until the world starts to make sense—or until you're too drunk to care? Yeah, Frank's.

It's where we go when life's got us by the balls. Like when shit goes sideways with my dad and I need to forget the way his voice still makes me feel like a kid who can't measure up, or if Harry's fighting with Jen and needs someone to match his misery shot for shot.

I step inside, and my eyes go straight to the corner of the room. Sure enough, Harry's already here, sitting at our usual table withtwo drinks in front of him, like he knows exactly what kind of day I've had.

Frank's isn't some upscale bar, and that's exactly why we love it. The floors are scuffed to hell, and the booths have that worn-in look that makes you feel like you've been coming here forever.

I sit across from him, nod my thanks, and grab the beer. Half a second later, I've nearly drained it. Harry just watches, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, knowing I need this before I offload all the shit that's currently occupying my mind.

"That bad?" he asks, eyebrows lifting slightly like he's bracing himself for whatever I'm about to drop on him.

I shrug, letting out a sigh that feels heavier than it should.

"Bad enough," I say, barely skimming the surface because even though I know he's here to listen, I'm not sure where to start.

After finishing the last of my beer, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand before running my fingers through my hair like I can rake the frustration out of my skull.

"I got a hard-on over Amelia."

Harry chokes on his drink, coughing into his fist as his eyes snap to mine, wide with disbelief. "Well, that's… not what I was expecting."

"Trust me, man, neither was I."

He raises an eyebrow, a grin creeping onto his face. "So… you're into your stepsister?" He's barely holding back a snicker, and every nerve in my body is on edge. He sees it—he knows he's poking the bear—and still, he can't help himself.

He lifts his hands in mock surrender, the grin still playing on his lips. "Alright, sorry—but come on, it's not that bad."

I drag a hand down my face, frustration twisting tight in my chest. "I need a shot, a smoke, or some pussy—anything to get her out of my head."

He laughs, but his face sobers as he takes in my expression.

"Look, don't tell Jen I said this, but… Amelia's hot. Likesmokinghot. And you're living with her. It's only natural you'd react to her."

I shake my head, letting out a bitter laugh. "I've lived with her for years before I moved here and never once had this problem."

"So it's a new thing?" He leans in, eyes narrowing as he tries to wrap his head around it.

"Yeah."

"Only happened the one time?"

I pause, feeling the heat creep up my neck. "No. Well, kind of."

"What does that even mean?"

"I've been having these… moments. She'll do something, just… be there, and it hits me out of nowhere."

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