Page 4 of Careless
I let out a sad sigh, curling into my blankets. Rune had two double beds in his guest room, so the girls and I were sharing, with one of them on the floor on an air mattress.
We could have stayed at my parents’ house, but Rune had known we would be out late, so we’d stayed here. My family was amazing.
And considering what I knew the Ashfords had gone through, I was grateful for the home I grew up in. Part of me wondered if I would come back. If this would be my home. I ignored that part as dizziness took over, and I scrambled to the bathroom.
It turned out that having my brother hold my hair as I emptied the contents of my stomach wasn’t the greatest way to celebrate my twenty-first birthday. Especially when I knew for a fact that it was Callum leaning against the doorway, holding my water glass.
“Happy birthday,” I whispered to myself.
“We’ll take care of you, little flower. Don’t worry.”
And while I believed him, I couldn’t believe I was once again careless.
With my night, with what I had drank, and with my feelings for him.
Chapter 2
Callum
“Seriously, is there a reason we’re at your house and not the Summit Grill?” Teagan asked as she leaned against my kitchen island.
I rolled my eyes at my younger sister but couldn’t help the twitch of my lips. “Just because you have a crush on Rune doesn’t mean we should be spending all our time at his place.” Beer sprayed over the edge of the counter, and I glared. “Seriously? You’re an adult. In your thirties. Clean up after yourself.”
My sister snarled. “Fuck you, I’m thirty. And what the hell? I do not have a crush on Rune.”
“Wait, who has a crush on Rune?” Finnian asked as he strolled into the kitchen, his twin Sterling at his side.
“Teagan,” I said as if it were true. It wasn’t, but I enjoyed fucking with my sister. If I could continue to keep the light on a fake crush when it came to my sister and my best friend, I could ignore the actual feelings going on deep inside me.
Very deep. So deep, I was going to suppress them slightly more so I wouldn’t have to think about them again.
See? Perfection. I wasn’t thinking about Rune’s little sister’s curvy body and the fact that she could fit against me perfectly. And the way that she giggled and pressed her finger to my chest, batting her eyelashes.
That was little Felicity Carter. Yes, she was twenty-one now. Yes, the last time I had really hung out with her at any point, we had both been children, but I was still too damn old for her.
I’d lived lifetimes since then, and I was an old bastard for even thinking about her that way.
It hadn’t stopped me from fucking my soaked-up fist in the shower after I had come home from the bar that night, but that was my own problem. I was going to hell, but at least I could get myself off before I got there.
“Excuse me,” Teagan said, snapping her fingers in front of me. “Listen to me.”
“What?” I snapped. My lips still twitched, however, thinking of Rune and Teagan and the fact that there would be zero chance of anything happening between them.
“I do not have a crush on Rune. And if you tell him I do, and he tries to give me a wedgie again like we’re kids, I’m going to kick your ass. You may be the Ashford Creek NFL legend, but I can still kick your ass.”
My younger brothers just laughed, Finnian full-out body quaking, as Sterling just shook his head, his rough chuckle filling the kitchen.
Bodhi finally walked in at that moment, looked at the group of us, and sighed before going to the fridge and pulling out a beer. “Do I want to know?”
“Callum has something up his ass and is fucking with Teagan by saying she wants Rune,” Sterling explained.
“What’s new?” Bodhi growled before he leaned against the counter. He folded his arms over his chest and glared.
It was a nice glare compared to his normal death one, so I figured he was in a better mood than usual. The fact that he’d even shown up to family dinner was proof that maybe he wasn’t such a badger afraid to leave is den.
Although maybe I was just like him.
No, I wasn’t. I was worse. I was like the other one. The other man that I saw whenever I looked down at my hands. Because they weren’t my hands. They were my father’s hands.
