Page 19 of I Knead You Tonight

“Not yet. Calm your tits.”

“Foster, man,” Winston says, sliding back into the booth after setting two glasses of water on the table. His all-too-familiar scent, the strange combination of bourbon and peppermint, washes over me as he relaxes, spreading his long legs wide, and I feel them brush against mine again. “What’d I say about talking about my sister’s tits when I’m around? That’s in our agreement.”

“I wasn’t talking about heractualtits,” Foster argues.

Wren grabs a boob with each hand, jiggling them. “Good, because these tits cannot be calmed.”

“Please stop playing with your boobs in the restaurant,” says Simon, the twins’ father, shaking his head at his daughter’s antics. He shoots me a sweet smile. “Drew, dear, next time you’re having car issues, call me.”

Dear.Now I know I’m in trouble.

Simon only calls me dear when I’ve done something he doesn’t approve of, which is admittedly more often than I’d like, especially since he’s like a second father to me.

Or, well, I guess just a father since mine was never around.

Neither was my mom.

Which is why I find it so laughable that everyone is worried about me not having heat.

Haven’t they ever had to live through a winter without so much as an extra blanket and only your hopes and dreams to get you by?

Probably not.

I’ve been living on the edge of this small beach town for a few years now, and sometimes even I forget the struggles I had to endure growing up, the struggles most people will never even come close to experiencing in their lifetime.

The Daniels family has taken me in like their own to the point that sometimes I forget we’re from two completely different worlds.

Theirs is full of love and color.

Mine is full of survival and gray.

It’s the reason I hate Winston like I do. He’s been handed everything in his life. Everything he’s ever wanted, he’s gotten. Hell, even when his dad has fired him for being a shitbag, he gets his job back.

Even when he was handed another chance after his accident, he continues to blow it time after time because he can’t be bothered to face life head-on. It’s like he gave up on himself after the wreck.

Meanwhile I’ve scratched and clawed my way out of hell just to have what I have now: a broken-down car and a shitty apartment—with no heat, apparently. Both are still better than what I used to have.

Nothing.

Winston wastes the privileges he has in life, and I’d kill for a leg up.

I salute Simon. “Aye aye, sir.”

“Don’t worry, Pops, I stepped up.”

“That’s a first,” Simon comments.

Winston’s bravado falters just a bit, but it’s enough for me to notice.

“And, Wren, just let Foster have his big fancy wedding. Stop trying to courthouse-marry the boy.”

“See? Even your dad has my back.”

“Oh, I think you’re stupid as shit for wasting money on a big blowout, but my daughter also needs to learn to…what was it? Calm her tits.”

Everyone groans, except Simon, who laughs to himself as he walks away.

“Well, we gotta scram.” Foster wraps an arm around his girl’s waist. “We have a meeting with a financial planner about getting my landscaping business off the ground, and then we have to go pick up Porter from the airport. It’s a busy day.”

---