Page 28 of 2204 Hunter Lane
Bringing Marley on our annual Thanksgiving trip? To the place where my mom used to take me sailing, where my dad and I hid seashells underneath our cottage in the Summertime? Fuck no. That was too close to home, she wasn’t touching that, no fuckin’ way.
“No.” I responded, flatly, marching towards the garage.
“Hunter –”
“Payton,” I snapped, barely containing my anger as I zipped back around. “I barely let you come on this damn trip. It’s afamilything. So just be happy with the fact you’restill invited.”
I left her with that comment, refusing to turn around because I couldn’t look at her. I couldn’t believe mystepmom would make that kind of suggestion when she wasn’t even my own flesh n’ blood. I mean, even if Dad asked that of me he’d sure as shit know the answer. But Payton? What the hell kind of crack was she snorting to think that was a good idea?
I slammed the hood of my truck into place, deciding I better not touch my baby in the state of mind I was in.She deserved better than that.
The warmth of the shed house heated my nerves as I locked the door, soaking in the peace and quiet of my space.
When Payton moved in, I was already twenty-two and should’ve been out on my own by that age anyway. After dropping the baseball scholarship, I couldn’t leave my dad to tend to the farm by himself so I built a separate shed house out in the field and called it home.
It had everything I needed from a TV to a comfy couch, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom and enough booze to last me a lifetime. Only I rarely drank at home considering I went out every night. Driving drunk had become as much of a routine as drinking at the bar, and one day, if I was lucky, my mom and I would crack open the first bottle of scotch I’d ever bought for this damn place. Somewhere far away from here. A place where pain didn’t prosper.
I stripped off my clothes and jumped in the shower, leaning my forehead against the wet tiles. I hadn’t touched my own dick since I busted to the thought of Bam –Britt, Britt.
To be honest, I didn’t fucking need to. Any hour of the day, any minute of any moment if I called Britt to swing by she’d be here unless she was working. And her job didn’t even stop us. We’d fooled around in Cid’s one-stall bathroom more times than I could count.
Now was a better time as any.
I turned off the water and grabbed a towel to dry my hair, picking up my phone to text Britt.
5:42pm - Hunter: Hey, sweetheart. Busy?
5:48pm - Britt: Not particularly. Need me to come over, Hunty?
I gotta have a talk with her about that fuckin’ nickname.
6:01pm - Hunter: If you can. Would make a man real happy.
6:02pm – Britt: Be there in twenty.
I tossed my phone on the bed and grabbed a Truly from the fridge, placing it on the kitchen counter ready for grabs.
Good hospitality for good measure,my mom used to say. Even though Britt never drank it cause she was as eager for sex as I was, it was always laid out for her to take.
Now we wait.
We wait for another distraction, another temporary thing to ease my permanent pain.
We wait.That’s all we ever fuckin’ do.
Chapter Thirteen
Marley
The last three weeks went by in a flash of world renowned success.Well, Nebraska renowned success.
I wanted to prove to Payton that all it took were advertisements, getting the company name out there and having the right marketing scheme. Of course, confidence was the biggest factor of getting your foot through the door.One of the only useful things my dad taught me.
He'd always said, “if you aren’t willing to fight for what you’re after, you don’t deserve it in the first place.” And Payton deserved this, more than anything.
Her business had been struggling for a few months now. Not to the point of bankruptcy, but their method of sales marketing needed some work. I created Google Ads, Instagram Ads, any ad possible in the Aurora radius to hit the consumers next door.
In New York, branding was everything. The P&D logo was completely outdated, so I decided to give it a makeover… well, the entire store really. And what do you know? It was a huge hit.
