Page 20 of Pumped

I throw my hands in the air. “Hell if I know!”

“For how long?”

I blink at him. “What do you mean ‘for how long’?”

Beau shrugs. “I don’t know. Is it for like, a year or two, and then someone else takes over?”

“What? No, that’s not how it works. I have custody until she’s eighteen.”

Beau’s lips form a silent O. “Shit.”

“Yeah. Shit.” I swing one leg over the bench so I can lie down, feet flat on the floor. I stare up at the ceiling, feeling a little bit like I’m in a therapy session with Doctor Beau. “That’s not the worst part. Actually, that part’s not really bad at all. Ivy’s a cool kid. We’re gonna have a lot of fun.”

I already have plans to take her swimming in the ocean and teach her how to skate, how to rock climb. We’ll go to the beach and ride bikes through the park. We’ll have movie nights and gorge ourselves on ice cream.

“You know that this isn’t an extended babysitting gig, right? Raising a kid is nothing like watching them for a few hours.”

I scoff at Beau’s unnecessary reminder. “Of course, I know. But how hard can it be? I had parents. I’ve seen my sister parent. And there’s the internet. You can learn anything from the internet.”

“Right…”

“Anyways, like I was saying, that’s not the worst part. The worst part is Owen. Fucking jackass.” I mutter the last part under my breath, a ball of anger churning in my chest just at the thought of him.

“I thought he was a jerkwad,” Beau says with a chuckle.

My brain supplies an image of his smarmy face, with his high cheekbones and plump lips. Amber eyes flashing underthick brows. All I want to do is punch him right on his perfectly straight nose. “He’s both. And more.”

“Owen is the co-brother-in-law, right?”

“The…” I lift my head from the bench to look at Beau. “The what?”

“The co-brother-in-law. Your sister’s husband’s brother,” Beau says, as if that’s a normal thing that normal people know.

“How did you know that?”

Beau shrugs. “I know things.”

“Ugh.” I drop my head back down and it bangs a bit too hard on the bench. “Ow.”

“So Owen. What’s wrong with Owen?”

“What’snotwrong with Owen?” I cross my arms and huff. “He’s an arrogant motherfucker and I have to share custody of Ivy with him.”

Beau whistles. “You have to raise your niece with a jerkwad slash jackass slash arrogant motherfucker for the next twelve years?”

Twelve years. Beau’s words feel like a ton of bricks deposited on my chest.

Twelve years of Owen. Of being cooped up in that house with him. Seeing him every day. Talking to him every day. There will be no escape, nowhere to hide.

A shudder of horror runs through me. All the constant judgment. Endless nagging. Never being able to live up to his impossible standards. Just the thought of it is suffocating.

But there’s also something else. Some small part of me perks up at the thought. Things happen when you’re in close quarters with someone like that. Unexpected things. Explosive things.

Like that night.

It’s been years and I still don’t really understand what happened that night. I can’t explain how we went from glaring at each other to kissing each other. It was like a switch was flipped.One moment, we could barely stand to be in the same room together, and the next moment, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.

It’s like all that pent-up hatred and anger needed somewhere to go andboom, it went into sex.

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