Page 140 of When It's Us
“Jesus fuck, it reeks in here,” Hudson mumbles, followed shortly by Hank’s gruff, “Holy shit, whatisthat?”
I groan, rolling my eyes before squeezing them shut. Why does my entire family have to be so damn annoying?
“Fuck off. All of you,” I holler loud enough for them to hear me down the stairs and across the shop.
“Not fucking likely,” Hudson calls out and I hear Hales say her goodbyes with a quiet ‘good luck’, the door clicking shut behind her.
Shoving my feet into the sweats I dropped there who knows how many days ago, I push to my feet, not bothering with a shirt. I’m going back to bed after I get some water, anyways.
I’m met with concerned stares when I hit the bottom step and my brothers turn to face me.
Hank is still dressed in his work clothes, dried mud on his boots like he came from the ranch, while Hudson looks perfectly put together for a guy with a six-day old baby. His curly hair is styled off his forehead and he’s dressed in jeans, boots and a Rowdy Roxy’s T-shirt like he might be on the way to his bar for the night.
Exceptneitherof those places is anywhere near here, so their concerted effort to check on me means it was one hundred percent unplanned. Meaning Hayley roped them into it. Either way, they probably look miles better than I do right now with my matted hair, probably bloodshot eyes, and dry, chapped lips.
I pass them both on my way to the kitchen without a word, but I don’t miss the weighted looks they both give me.
“Goddamn, brother, when was the last time you showered?” Hudson asks, flicking a repulsed glance in Hank’s direction. “Or shaved? You look like Grizzly fuckin’ Adams.”
“Nice boots, douche nozzle,” I mutter, opening up the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “You polish ‘em before or after you flexed in front of the mirror and kissed your own reflection?”
Hank chuckles, feet planted wide, arms crossed over his chest, probably happy to not be the butt of my fashion jokes for once.
Can’t have that.
“Easy, Chuckles,” I quip, a little more awake now, eyes flicking over Hank’s dirty cargo pants and boots. “Your pants still got more storage than a U-Haul.”
“Well, at least we know he’s still got his sense of humor,” Hank murmurs when I push past them both on the way to the couch.
They share another glance as I drop down on the worn leather and try not to think about the fact that this is the exact spot where I completely decimated Ginger.
“Care to tell us what the hell is going on?” Hank asks.
I take another swig of water and recap the bottle. Without looking up at him, I respond, “Well, Iwastaking a nap until you two assholes showed up.”
Hank rolls his eyes, shoulders bunched in irritation.
What else is new?
“Why are you here?” I bite out. I don’t mean to be a dick, but I don’t have the stomach for this.
“Besides the fact that you haven’t shown up at a job site in days or showered recently, we know you and Ginger broke it off. We’re worried—”
I pin Hudson with a look, effectively cutting him off. “Can’t break something off that was never a thing to begin with,” I say, running a hand over my face. “Like I told Hales, I’m fine.”
“Yeah, you definitely look it,” Hudson says, deadpan.
“Eat a dick, Hudson.”
“Fuck you,” he shoots back.
“Jesus Christ,” Hank says, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. “You,” he says, jerking his chin at Hudson, “go start the shower.”
“I’m not taking a goddamn shower like a five-year-old.”
“Yes,” Hank bites out, “the fuck you are and while you’re in there I’m gonna make you some food and then we’re going to have an adult fucking conversation about what the hell happened between you and Ginger, because my wife’s best friend is miserable, which meanssheis, and I know as sure as I’m standing here thatyouare the goddamn reason for it.”
His words hit me like a brick to the face, and I hate myself even more because of them, if that’s even possible. Still, that doesn’t keep me from trying to defend my sorry ass.
