Page 70 of Fourth Wheel
“Two extra minutes, and you’d dry off enoughnotto trek water all over the house,” I scold.
He smirks and sips from his bendy straw. He won a Coke Freestyle machine at a charity auction a few years ago, then customized the thing so it dispenses more than 120 soda options, plus rum instead of water.
Clever. But dangerous.
I side-eye him as he takes another sip, the unasked question lingering between us.
“It’s Dr. Pepper,” he finally relents with an eye roll. “And it’s not my fault I had to run in here without drying off to your specifications. I wanted to catch you while you’re on break from making that girl scream your name.”
“That girlhas a name,” I retort. “I figured I had to make it up to her since she got manhandled by your sorry ass this morning.”
“Oh, believe me, brother. I know that girl’s name. I’m less concerned with her name and more concerned with what you called her this morning. What was that word you used?Girlfriend?”
I say nothing, overwhelmed by shame at having him find out about Maddie by discovering her in my bed. I was going to tell him today—I knew I had to after what went down at The Oak last night—he just beat me to the revelation. I spray a misting of oil in the pan, then move toward the fridge to get out the rest of what I need.
“Is that for Mom?” he asks, jutting his chin toward the pan heating up on the stove.
“Yeah. I figured I’d try eggs and toast.”
He nods, then shuffles around me before opening a cupboard and pulling down the blender. “I’ll make her a smoothie.”
Silence settles between us as we prepare food and he waits me out.
“How’d you know she was in my room?” I finally ask, because I’ve honestly been dying to know.
“I got a text last night.”
“From who?” I demand.
He chuckles to himself as he chops an apple, shaking his head like he almost doesn’t believe what he’s about to say. “Jake.”
“Jake?” I deadpan, my anger spiking as I crack an egg against the countertop.
“Believe me, brother. I was as surprised as you.”
Why the hell would Jake, of all people, feel compelled to text my brother? Out of all the guys, he was the last one I expected to spill the beans. He and I are close, and he and Fielding are… not. They used to be. But things changed. I didn’t even know they talked anymore.
“I don’t think he did it to be malicious,” Fielding defends, throwing the apple pieces into the blender before dropping a handful of spinach in a colander to rinse. “He wanted to know the whole story with Adley and to make sure I was okay. He hadn’t seen any of the videos from the party.”
I add another egg to the pan, then sprinkle them with salt and pepper. I watch as the edges transform from clear to opaque, my frustration at my boss and supposed friend mounting as the eggs pop and sizzle in the pan.
“He said he wanted to make sure I didn’t hear pieces of the story from someone else,” Fielding offers, adding the last few ingredients to the blender, then plugging it in. “He said a lot of the guys were there last night, and that the place was packed. I honestly think he was trying to do the right thing by giving me a heads-up.”
He starts the blender, and the whirl of the motor cuts off my ability to speak. I shift the eggs around in the pan, spooning a little oil onto them as they get closer to being done.
I’m pissed that Jake would take it upon himself to break the news to my brother like that. Especially after he and I had a conversation about keeping this from both Rhett and Fielding.
But I guess it was naïve to expect nothing to change after what happened at the bar last night. And out of all the guys who could have texted Fielding about what went down, Jake knew the most about the context of the situation.
As the blender dies down, I realize it doesn’t matter who told Fielding first. He shouldn’t have had to hear it from anyone but me.
“Look,” I start as he reaches for a glass. “I’m sorry you had to find out about Maddie and me like this. And I’m sorry that I kept her a secret. It wasn’t supposed to be anything with her. I never expected—”
“Dumpy.” He levels me with a look that forces me to stop what I’m doing. “I meant what I said to you the night she saved my ass. Whatever happens between you and her… I’m good.”
“You shouldn’t have to be, though. Out of all the girls in this damn town for me to—”
“Bro. Seriously. Stop.” He pours the smoothie into a glass and gets out a tray, then reaches past me to pop bread into the toaster. I move the eggs off the burner and turn back to face him.
