THE BOY I GREW UP WITH

3. Channing

3

Channing

Christ.

What was I doing here?

A hurricane railroaded me. That’s how I felt waking up.

I was in Heather’s room. I looked over to find her curled away from me. Glancing down, I learned my d**k was ecstatic to see her.

She’d been sick last night, or—checking my phone—a few hours ago. She was breathing deeply now, and she looked better. She wasn’t pale anymore.

The plan had been to give her space. Had been, the operative words there.

“Hmmm?” Heather rolled toward me, her eyes still closed. She was still sleeping.

Man. Just looking at her, I ached—in more than one way.

The tug-of-war between staying away and being drawn to her was a real struggle for me. I hated being broken up, but it was what it was. That was the rotation for us right now. And I knew I shouldn’t, but I reached over and smoothed my hand over her cheek. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life. I’d thought it when I was in third grade, and I thought it now. I’ve liked Heather since first, but I think I liked that Trapper Keeper more. Third grade was when my real smarts hit me. It never changed after that, and it never diminished. Heather was the s**t. She was the girl all other girls wanted to be, or should be. The woman was hella loyal, sexy as f**k, smarter than anyone I knew, and she had the mouth to suck my d**k off or kick my ass to the curb, literally.

She wasn’t one to f**k over, and I felt the same shame, guilt, and anger roll around inside me like I always did.

Here’s a secret: I know the root of our problems, but Heather doesn’t.

She just loves me, and that’s her curse, because she shouldn’t. I’m the worst goddamn asshole for her.

Not wanting to give in and kiss her awake, then slip inside her, I forced myself to grab my stuff and ease out of her room.

“Hey, loser.”

I jerked the door shut more than I wanted to, and twisted to glare at Brandon. He was at the bottom of the stairs, in almost the same get-up as myself. Only he was half-clothed, and I wasn’t.

I tiptoed down the stairs, pulling my shirt on first. After getting the jeans and everything else, I itched my face with my middle finger. “Fucker.”

He smirked, following me as I went to the coffee pot and filled a cup. He leaned against the fridge, drinking from his.

“So you’re a surprise.” He seemed to think about that and amended, “Okay. Maybe not such a surprise.” He indicated upstairs with his mug. “I didn’t know Heather had anyone up there.”

I topped my cup off with some creamer and glared again. “Because she shouldn’t have just anyone. It would be me, me alone. Right?” That all came out cocky—but no, seriously. “Right?”

Brandon laughed, rolling his eyes. “My sister’s too good for you, Monroe.”

I grunted. That was one thing we agreed on. I was tempted to salute him with my coffee, but he didn’t deserve it. Though he was a fucker I’d grown up with and loved like a brother too.

I glanced up. I’d been listening for any sounds of Heather moving up there and didn’t hear any. She must’ve stayed asleep.

“You had a scrape with Stalker B?” I asked. “I overheard when I snuck in.”

He almost choked, some of his coffee sputtering out. “What?” His face drained of color. “You’re joking. Right? About the stalker comment. Right?”

I shook my head. “One of my guys slept with her one night, and it took him a long time to shake her.” I grinned. This was my revenge for him calling me loser. The rest I deserved. “You’re f****d, buddy.”

He coughed, pounding his chest. “How long is long? And who?”

“Congo.”

Congo was one of my ride-or-die friends, and he wasn’t a guy to get stalkers. Might’ve been connected to his bald head, hands that looked like he ate trees for breakfast, and his seriously mean face. He was one of my most trusted guys, but he was just plain mean-looking. There was no other way to describe him.

I enjoyed telling Brandon this.

Brandon Jax was nice, but he tended not to give Heather enough credit. Call me overprotective or whatever, but that always burned me. She’d taken Manny’s on when their dad abandoned it—and abandoned them. They thought of it differently, but the SOB had done just that. He took off in an RV caravan with a bunch of retired buddies, and the last I heard, they’d all set up shop in Florida. Brandon didn’t want to deal with the real work of Manny’s, so Heather did.

It was the same quality that allowed her to keep loving me.

She should’ve walked away from me years ago.

Brandon groaned. “How long, Channing?”

I smiled now, saluting him with my coffee. “It took him a year. How many times did you sleep with her?”

“Oh my God.” He looked as if he’d been stabbed in the gut. His hand cradled his stomach. “Twice. I was with her twice.”

I laughed. “Yeah. You’re fucked.”

“This isn’t funny, Channing.”

I sipped my coffee. “It is from my view.”

“Shiiiit.”

He tipped his head back, a long groan coming from his throat. His hands went to his hair and balled up in fists. It was then that his bedroom door opened and a girl came out, slipping her arm through a shirt. Her hair was a little messy, and her jean skirt still unbuckled. She carried flip-flops in her hands.

“I’m ready to—” She looked up and saw me, and her voice trailed off. “Go...”

It was the same chick who’d been hitting on my cousin last night. She paled, and I grinned. This would be fun.

I raised my mug to her. “We had a wager where’d you end up after Scratch sent you packing.” My eyes slid to Brandon, then back to her. “Didn’t know it’d be here, but it makes sense. Going from Tuesday t**s to Manny’s.”

She gulped, but I didn’t care. The stalker was funny. But this girl, she hopped from bed to bed looking for the next guy to bankroll her life.

“Channing.” Her head lowered, and so did her voice. “Please.”

“What’s going on?” Brandon looked between the two of us. “Chan?”

“She’s just a one-night regret, right?”

“What?”

I relented. “She was at the bar last night. Hit on me first, then Chad, Linc, and the last one who said no was Scratch. She kept asking for a threesome.” She was squirming. The back of her neck was red, and I loved it. “Right? Said you’d always dreamed about doing two of me, and my cousin was good enough.”

“Stop.” Another soft plea.

Brandon’s mouth flattened, and he touched her back. His tone almost matched hers. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

She looked up, her eyes grateful. She nodded, then stormed out of the kitchen, avoiding me. Brandon stayed put and winced as the screen door slammed behind her. He ran a hand down his face, and handed over his coffee.

I took it as he murmured, “She was at your bar?”

I put his coffee on the counter, moving to refill my cup. “She’s a regular.”

He grimaced. “Fuck.” Then he nodded, clapping me on the shoulder. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

I relaxed just as he swatted my shoulder again, spilling my coffee.

Swearing, I dumped it in the sink and threw him a dark look. “Really?”

He chuckled, grabbing his car keys and heading out. “That’s for whatever d**k thing you do next.”

“Fucker!” I yelled after him, but not too loud in case Heather was still sleeping. I doubted she was, though, and after rinsing my cup and Brandon’s, I wasn’t surprised to hear her bedroom door open upstairs.

A pair of tanned feet came down the stairs, and a short pair of jean shorts—just how I liked them—were next. She’d pulled on the white tank that dipped low into her cleavage without a bra. I knew she’d put a bra on later, but for now, I enjoyed the view.

She was perfect.

“How are you feeling?”

She groaned, coming next to me and reaching for the coffee. “This morning sucks.”

I’d already checked before I slipped from the bed, but I needed to do it once more. Grabbing a loop on her shorts, I tugged her over and pressed a hand to her forehead. She wasn’t burning up. Her color was normal. She looked a little flushed, but that was probably just from waking up. They didn’t have the air conditioner on, so her room could get heated.

She yawned, rubbing at her eyes, standing between my legs.

“You feeling better?”

She nodded, her eyes still closed and still yawning. Around it, she mumbled out, “Aah. Ank u.” She finished, and a cute little grin showed. She repeated, “Yes. And thank you for taking care of me last night.”

I nodded, falling silent.

A normal boyfriend/girlfriend would talk about the evening before. How it was. What we did. How we felt. What made us laugh. What pissed us off. You know, general couple conversation.

We weren’t boyfriend/girlfriend. We were ex-boyfriend/girlfriend.

My chest swelled up.

I wanted to talk to her about all that. I almost thirsted for it.

The rules weren’t clear because no matter what our status was, I couldn’t stay away. The whole emotional sharing/supporting you thing—that was a bunch of gray for us.

So I just stuck to what I knew wouldn’t mess up our rules.

I did the guy thing and pointed to my crotch. “I’m excited to see you.”

She snorted, but rested back against me. “Right. Well, your d**k needs to get sad because I’m in no mood for a ride.”

See? f*****g hilarious and feisty at the same time. Pun intended.

I nuzzled her neck. “I’m pretty sure I can get you in the mood for any ride.” I ran my hand down her side and paused on her thigh.

Just this small touch, this small interaction, and my body was buzzing.

I really would have to let her go or I’d have her bent over the counter in a few seconds, but…not yet. Not yet. Not now. Not ever. But s**t didn’t roll that way.

“Sure about that?”

My hand dipped under her shorts and rested just above her clit.

Her whole body leaned into me, her head falling to my shoulder. I held her up until she tensed, pulling away.

“It’s too early,” she protested.

I chuckled, letting her go. “It’s after ten in the morning.”

“What?” She whipped around. “No way.”

I nodded, fighting the urge to grab her again, and gestured out their kitchen window. Manny’s had been up and running since early that morning. Despite her inability to let go, Heather had people in place to take the reins when she wasn’t around. This morning wasn’t any different. The parking lot was full. It was nearing brunch, and then lunch after that. The only time Manny’s was slow was two to three, and then the high school crowd trickled in.

“Suki opened,” I told her.

She yawned, her shoulders relaxing.

“It’s fine.”

Ah, screw it. I reached for her and pulled her back to me.

A moan-groan slipped from her. She rested against me like before. “Don’t you have a teenage sister to stalk? Make sure she’s alive?”

I did, and—and nothing. Goddamn. She was right.

I didn’t respond, but Heather felt my shift. She turned to fully face me, sliding her arms around my waist. Tipping back, her eyes searched mine.

My pops went to prison a while back, and I became Bren’s guardian. It’d been a rocky road since then, and in a week, she was starting her last year of high school. I had one more year before she could claim adulthood and do whatever she wanted. To say I hadn’t been the best brother until that day two years ago was an understatement. Along with Heather, I tended to let my sister down. A lot.

More than a lot.

But unlike Heather, who could conquer the world if she managed to leave me in the dust one day, my sister depended on me.

“Hey.” Heather’s tone softened. She tapped my forehead. “Think of it this way. Your mom is gone. Your dad is gone. You’re still here, so you can’t really do any worse than them. Right?”

She knew what I was thinking, like always.

But she didn’t know all of it.

There was a lot of bad s**t in my life. I could be dangerous. I was worse when I was younger, but I was getting better. I would be better.

I had to.

I have a sister to raise, whether she wants me to or not.

Heather was waiting for me to respond, but I couldn’t go there. That was the emotional sharing/supporting gray area for us. s*x was different. s*x was something we both needed, like water. It was how we were, but the emotional sharing, that was a privilege I didn’t let her in on. It wasn’t fair.

There was a small bit of space between us, so I grabbed her hips and pulled her flush against me.

She felt how much I wanted her, and I smirked, dropping my mouth to just an inch above hers. “How about a quick dip?”

She groaned, but she was already twining her arms around my neck. I grabbed her legs and hoisted her up. We both knew I was joking.

There was never a quick dip when it came to Heather.

“You can be so crude sometimes.”

I smacked her on the ass, carrying her up the stairs.

I was crude for a reason.