Page 45 of Puck Daddies
She blinks and then laughs once, small and shocked. “Since middle school?”
“Yeah.”
“I had no idea.” She looks at my face for a long time. “I always thought you three saw me as a sister.”
“Never. Not me, anyway.”
Her eyes go wet and she looks away so she doesn’t have to apologize for that. “I’m—okay. I don’t know what to do with that. It’s not bad. It’s just…new.”
“I’m not asking you to do anything with it. I needed to say it out loud once.” I rub my thumb on the edge of the counter because I need my hands to do something, or I’ll say shit I shouldn’t.
She takes a breath. “When I asked about our practice sessions…”
The phrase hits me in the ribs.Practice sessions. Like that’s all this is.
I keep my face still. “Yeah?”
“I just—Luke saidboring.I wanted to prove I wasn’t.”
“I know.”
“I’m not saying this right. When it comes to hooking up, I’m trying to pace myself so I don’t wreck the one part of my life that works. You three are the part that works. I can’t lose that.”
“You won’t.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can promise I’m not going to burn it down on purpose. I can promise I’ll check my temper and my mouth. I can promise I’ll say what I mean and ask you what you want.”
She nods. “Okay.”
I want to tell her I’ll take crumbs. I hate that I’d take crumbs. But I know I will. I’m too far gone for her to pretend I won’t.
“You’re not boring,” I tell her. “You never were. That’s bullshit.”
She swallows. “Thank you.” She reaches up and kisses me soft. No tongue. “I need to go back to the shop. Dana’s courier might swing by with more questions.”
“Understood.”
She hops off the counter. I steady her waist when her foot slips and release her fast so she doesn’t think I’m grabbing her to keep her. She smiles at that and pushes my shoulder once. She gets her bag and heads to the door. She stops there. “Hud.”
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t know,” she says. “About middle school.” She looks at me in a way that makes the room smaller. “Thank you for saying it.”
“You’re welcome.” My voice is not nice. It’s too rough. I clear it.
She leaves. The door clicks. I stand in the kitchen and breathe.
And breathe. And breathe.
I look at the counter and the tins and the cloth in the sink and the wax bits we missed. I clean it all up and finish the batch. I set the wicks for a second round. I test the temp and pour steady.
Practice sessions.
I light a test candle and let the honey cedar burn. The apartment smells good again. But it doesn’t feel good.
I’ll take what I can get. I’ll take the kitchen and the wax and the counter and her mouth saying my name and her hand on my jaw and heryeswhen I ask. I’ll take rules and check-ins and aftercare and cleaning up the mess. I’ll take sleeping on the floor when I have to and in her bed when she pulls me there. I’m in too deep not to.
