Page 33 of Cherry Picked
Aside from the wanting-someone-who-refused-to-want-me-back thing. And the developers-ruining-my-town thing. And the random, uncontrolled bursts of anger. And my brothers treating me like I was a porcelain doll. And feeling like a loser because I made love to my hand so often I worried I was developing carpal tunnel syndrome while it seemed every other human in town was getting down and dirty. And—
Okay, so maybe Crys had a point.
I’d talked a good game about getting on a hookup app and finding a date, but I hadn’t actually done a damn thing about it. I’d set my sights on Jack the same way I’d focused on the target at the knife-throwing place, heaving myself at him with all my might… and in both cases, I’d fallen way short of the mark and had nothing to show for it but a bruised ego and a sore wrist.
Maybe I was frustrated Jack wouldn’t join me in the fight against Evola because I’d gotten used to relying on his support and his strength. Because it was scary to think about doing it on my own.
Maybe I was so angry these days because I’d dammed up my frustrations about so many things for so long, not wanting to hurt or offend anyone, that now I was boiling over like a teakettle.
Maybe it was time to actuallymakea change instead of talking about it over and over.
Maybe I needed to take Simon up on his offer.
The next morning, after a very long and sleepless night stuck in the farmhouse with a pair of very amorous newlyweds and a pair of sixty-something lovers under the influence, I dragged myself into the shower and got myself to the diner with seconds to spare before my shift started.
I wasn’t the only straggler.
Crys walked in with me, wearing the same clothes she’d worn the day before, rocking sex hair and a dewy smile. Katey was escorted in by Nate Kimstock from the auto shop, and the pair spent ten minutes standing in the doorway cooing and exchanging goofy smiles before Jack fixed Nate with a raised eyebrow and folded arms that sent him scurrying off. Even Jack was bleary-eyed, smelled vaguely of woodsmoke, and winced with every movement like he’d spent the night wrestling a wild animal.
An image of Handsy Donny appeared in my brain, and my stomach dropped. Had Jack hooked up withhimlast night after turning me down? Wouldn’tthatbe the cherry on this shit sundae?
I bit back my overwhelming desire to grill him about it until I finally couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Guess you didn’t end up going home after our hike yesterday, huh?” I blurted, tossing a serving tray onto a rack and barely managing to avoid the swinging kitchen door.
Jack glanced up from the center island worktable. “W-what?” His gaze darted around the room guiltily.
“You look wrecked.” The words came out like an accusation. “Who’d you hang out with?”
“Who?” he repeated. He licked his lips. “N-no one? Why? What have you heard?”
He couldn’t have looked guiltier if he had anLfor liar tattooed on his forehead.
My head throbbed, and my tired eyes burned. “I see. If you don’t want to tell me, fine.”
I turned around and slammed my way back out of the kitchen, which was significantly less satisfying with a swinging door.
“Hawk?” Crys asked softly as I grabbed a tray from the wait station. “Are you losing your mind, boo? What’s going on?”
I pressed my fingers into my eyes. “What’s going on is my sister was staying at a friend’s last night, and Aiden was with his mom, soeachof the couples living in my house apparently decided to perform their own reenactments of the Cocky Boys’ greatest bangs at full volume. Luke and Webb were upstairs, Drew and Marco downstairs. There was no escape. The charge on a pair of noise-canceling headphones only lasts so long, Crys, and Marco has no idea how loud he is now that his hearing is going. My ancestors did not design that house with live porn in mind.”
She flinched. “Oh, god.”
“Yes.Exactly. Imagine those very wordsbeing moaned by four different voices simultaneously like a lusty barbershop quartet.” I sniffled. “I’m exhausted, and frustrated, and… I can’t live like this anymore. This whole damn town is in the throes of a fiery mating frenzy, and I’m like a stack of kindling that’s been drying out for almost twenty-five long years.” I straightened my shoulders. “I think maybe you were right last night. I’ll message Simon about… dinner.”
Crys grinned. “Good for you,” she said fiercely. “Sometimes things have to get worse before they get better. You’ll see.”
I really hoped she was right because I wasn’t sure how much more “worse” I could take.
I managed to keep my shit contained through the morning rush and most of the lunch shift, too. I ignored Jack and his gorgeous smile and his traitorous sad eyes. I smiled at customers and took orders, remembering that little Bodhi Miller liked “extra cherries, Mr. Hawk” in his Shirley Temple. I volunteered to clean the bathrooms and pretended the acidic churn of hurt and longing and anger in my gut wasn’t there. I even managed to stay calm when my family got seated in my section, even though Gage kept asking me random, ridiculous questions like “If you were forced to pick bondage or carpentry as a hobby, which would it be?”
But when Webb and Luke strolled in, looking like they’d tumbled naked through an entire orchard, projectile vomiting love and hope and satisfaction all over the diner, the last thread of my frayed control snapped.
I could not continue sleepwalking through my life, pretending things were okay. Everyone around me was reaching out and grabbing their happiness while I was morphing into a bitter, miserable jerk I could barely recognize in the mirror.
Enough was enough.
I slammed water glasses down on the table.
