Flutter: The Nash Brothers, Book Three Page 9

  My three brothers stand in a group under the hoop Keaton installed in his driveway, and they’re tittering like school girls.

  “I’ve never seen you so repentant.” Bowen chuckles, slapping five dollars into Keaton’s hand.

  “What’s that about?” I point out, annoyed that there is money being exchanged.

  “He bet me you would apologize, and I bet him you wouldn’t. I lost, but damn if it wasn’t a good way to go down. That groveling, top-notch, brother.” Bowen gives me the three-finger gesture for okay or job well done.

  “You’re all assholes,” I grumble, walking to them and snatching the ball out of Fletcher’s hands. “And when I win this game, you both owe me twenty bucks. Each.”

  “You’re on.” Keaton’s smile is competitive as he and our middle brother line up against my twin and me.

  “Boys.” Presley rolls her eyes as she and Lily start to walk back into the house. “Come on, let’s go get some iced tea.”

  My brothers and I shoot around for a while, sort of playing a game, but just lazily keeping score or calling fouls. It feels nice, to be back in everyone’s good graces. I’m usually the outcast, the brother who isn’t as goofy or … I’m not sure. It’s just always how I’ve felt.

  “The anniversary is coming up,” Keaton says, and we don’t need to ask which anniversary.

  Our dad died almost four years ago, and it still feels like there is a piece missing in the Fawn Hill world.

  “Are we going to do something for Mom?” Fletcher asks. “I was thinking of making her something. Now that I’m not drunk off my ass, I can actually give her something sentimental.”

  “The kid’s got jokes.” Bowen grimaces at Fletcher, probably remembering the time he and Keaton had to pull my twin out of a meth house.

  Keaton pats Fletcher’s shoulder. “I think that would be really nice. She’ll love whatever you make. Maybe you can put something together for Penelope, too. It’ll be three years since Travis passed. I remember I got the call so close to that first anniversary of Dad being gone.”

  Bowen nods. “Yeah, I remember the guys at the fire department mourning his passing.”

  And I wouldn’t be there for Penelope on that day.

  Jeez, I have no idea where that thought comes from. Even when we were still having sex, that’s all we were doing. I wasn’t a support system; I didn’t help with her boys. Hell, we didn’t even talk about our days at work.

  Plus, Penelope had made it clear when she came to yell at me that she cared nothing for me.

  Still, I feel like even more of a selfish prick now. This month is obviously a hard one for both her and her boys, and I hadn’t made it easier by dissing her parenting.

  Honestly, I’d thought so little about the baggage she must carry that my gut burned with shame now. I lost my dad, and it’s horrible. We all still grieved him in our own ways.

  But if I fully became selfless and thought about what it would be like to lose a spouse with three children to care for … I’d sink in the first week. Yet, here was Penelope, thriving while carrying the world on her shoulders as if it were light as a feather.

  It’s at this moment, I realize just how incredible the woman is. Not that I hadn’t known it before, but taking in the full scope of her responsibilities, it only makes me admire her more.

  18

  Penelope

  “Eliza, you really didn’t have to invite us tonight. It’s a family thing.”

  I hug the mother of all four Nash boys, truly loving this woman as the mother of the community that she is. Growing up, she was always the parent to organize bake sales or volunteer for field trips. She helped with every seasonal carnival, did story time at the library, and so much more. Eliza had been my cheerleading coach for years, claiming that God hadn’t gifted her with daughters so she’d had to go out and find some of her own.

  “Oh, shush, girl. You’re just as much of a daughter to me as Lily and Presley are. If not, my original one. Remember when I taught you how to do a back handspring?” She laughs.

  One summer, she stayed late with me after every practice until I mastered the skill.

  I lean in, smirking. “After three kids, I think I can still pull that one off.”

  “No, you couldn’t, you’d break your neck.” Lily giggles as she brings two empty beer bottles into the kitchen and throws them in the recycling bin.

  “Always trying to keep a bitch down.” I stick my tongue out at her.

  “Now, if you come into this house with that language, I’ll put soap in your mouth,” Eliza admonishes me.

  I rub the back of my neck, my cheeks burning. “Sorry, Mrs. Nash.”

  “Did she give you the ole soap in the mouth lecture?” Keaton walks in, hauling a tray full of half-eaten charcuterie.

  Eliza is hosting a family dinner party at her house tonight and apparently, insisted that my boys and I come. I’d been inclined to say no, since Forrest and I hadn’t spoken since I’d gone to his house and slapped him in the face. That was almost a week ago, and I knew it would be awkward to see him here.

  It’s also his family and his territory, these people make up an inner circle I’m not a part of. But then Lily and Presley insisted and said that Eliza wanted to see my boys and wasn’t going to take no for an answer. And I knew that if I protested too much, they’d think it was weird. I’d come before, with my kids, to all-Nash dinner parties.

  I would just try my best to avoid my ex-fling, and all will be okay. It’s not as if Forrest is that shaken up about the dissolution of our contractless contract. I overheard him in the living room talking to Bowen about this dating app he was on.

  Prick. Couldn’t even wait a whole week to mourn the loss of our amazing sex pact. Meanwhile, it will take me another year, probably, just to get laid again.

  “Unfortunately, yes. Now I know why you’re such a choir boy.” I wink at him.

  Except, from what Presley has shared, Mr. Respectable Vet is a freak in the sheets. That might be why his wife just choked on her wine and fled from the room. I have to giggle at the silent exchange that, thank God, Eliza does not notice.

  “All right, dinner is ready. Everyone serve yourselves and take a seat,” the Nash matriarch announces.

  I’m the last one to eat, having had to set up my boys with their own plates at the table Eliza set up for them in the kitchen. So, when I walk into the dining room, my plate piled high with her famous meatloaf and mashed potatoes, the only seat left is next to Forrest.

  Just my fucking luck.

  “Hi,” I say curtly, not looking at him, as I sit down.

  “Hello, there.” His shit-eating grin makes me want to slap him again.

  We all begin to eat and drink, and the table goes silent for a minute until one of the brothers starts talking about some new thing happening in town and we all join in.

  Suddenly, the boys laugh hysterically from the kitchen, probably at whoever just showed the table the mashed up food in his mouth, and Eliza’s eyes go moony.

  “If someone doesn’t give me a grandbaby soon …” The Nash matriarch gives her children the evil eye around the table.

  I lean across the table to Lily, my voice a hushed whisper, “Yeah, pretty sure that isn’t directed at me. Also, I already popped three out of my vagina so I think I’m good.”

  Plus, my tubes were tied, so there were no more kids in my future. After we got pregnant with Ames, I’d had a breakdown and a difficult pregnancy. Travis had been deployed for so long, and life was already tough with two rowdy boys. So after I’d had our third baby, he’d agreed on the advice of my doctor that it was best for me to get the surgery to prevent us from having any more children.

  I found it ironic that he was gone now … because even if I wanted more children with Travis; the surgery wasn’t the thing preventing it.

  Lily can’t even contain the giggle that pops out, and a couple people at the dinner table look at her. She leans across the table, whispering back.

 
“You are so vulgar.”

  I keep my voice low. “Oh, I’m sorry, did you want me to call it a muffin? Or maybe a lady basket. Either way, your mother-in-law wants a sire for the Nash name, so you better tell her you’re with child soon. Or the Earl of Fawn Hill won’t be awarded his kingdom.”

  Now my best friend nearly chokes on the bite of potatoes she just took. “Don’t tell me … you’re reading more historical romance?”

  My attention goes back to my steak. “I enjoy a little society and English countryside with my smut.”

  “Who is talking about smut?” Fletcher asks, his eyes dancing with amusement.

  “Fletcher, mind your mouth at the dinner table,” Eliza scolds him.

  “Or she’ll put soap in it,” I joke, winking at Mrs. Nash.

  “God, she used to do that shit to me all the time.” Forrest snorts and they’re the first words he’s spoken to me since I entered the house.

  I chance a look at him. God, he looks good. He’s rocking the dark-rimmed glasses again, and a short beard that wasn’t there last week. His blue eyes dance in the candlelight Eliza provided from her crystal sticks on the table, but they look tired.

  It makes me wonder what he’s been up to. Has he slept with anyone else? Does he miss talking to me after our romps?

  I miss it … maybe because it was the one adult activity in my life that was sacred to me. I didn’t have to share it with anyone else.

  Dinner is finishing up, and meanwhile, I’m still trying to sneak sidelong glances at Forrest without being caught. But two seconds later, I feel the heat of his hand on my leg. He’s touching me, just the slightest pressure of his fingertips, but even that small point of contact sets goose bumps skittering over my skin.

  Forrest isn’t looking at me, it’s just as before like we’re sitting next to each other eating dinner. And it’s only his palm squeezing my thigh the tiniest amount over my jeans … but it’s the most illicit act I’ve ever been a part of. He shouldn’t even be touching me, what with the way we fought last week. It’s arrogant, what he’s doing. Claiming me silently even though I told him I never wanted to see his face again.

  My breathing is labored, and I clamp my lips shut so the people around the table are none the wiser to what’s going on just beneath it.

  Lily and Bowen, Keaton and Presley … they can all hold hands and put their relationships on display. This is what Forrest and I have, though. Stolen moments in secret.

  Forrest looks like he’s about to say something when the boys come running in.

  “Forrest! Forrest! We got a new version of Mario Kart on our Nintendo Switch! Wanna play?” Travis asks him, all but thrusting the handheld gaming system at Forrest.

  Immediately, he removes his hand from my leg, and I shiver from the loss.

  “Of course, dude. But only if you want to get your butt kicked.” He jumps up and follows the boys into the living room, where they all flop on the couch to play.

  “Did you finish your vegetables?” I call after them, my mom-voice kicking in.

  “Are you asking Forrest? Because we have a hard time getting him to finish his veggies, too.” Fletcher snorts at his own joke.

  Presley stares after them. “I didn’t realize Forrest liked kids. Or even knew yours.”

  Keaton answers her first. “He doesn’t. I’ve never seen him … be so good with anyone.”

  The whole table looks on as he jokes around with Travis and Matthew as they trade the Gameboy back and forth. Ames moves to sit on his lap, and Forrest even ruffles his hair. Ruffles his damn hair … and my stupid heart melts into a cliché puddle.

  Mere nights ago, I’d watched Corey help out with the boys, and I’d felt a resigned appreciation. But there were no flutters low in my belly, no blush creeping up my cheeks.

  And after he asked me out, I’d felt nothing but pity.

  Watching Forrest with my children, however … it makes me think that, someday, I could actually have a complete family again.

  How strange that a man I swore would be denied entry to my heart could produce this kind of reaction?

  19

  Forrest

  After I let Travis win one round of Mario Kart, by the smallest margin I can allow, Penelope calls her boys to wrap it up.

  “Time to go home, loves.” She ruffles Matthew’s hair and hugs him to her.

  “Mom! Not in front of Forrest!” he whisper-yells at her, and my chest puffs out that the kid thinks I’m that cool.

  “It’s all good, my man. Moms can be cool sometimes.” I wink at Penelope and see a pinkish tint mark her cheeks.

  But I can see how tired the little fellas are, all of them yawning and Ames practically asleep on my mom’s couch.

  “Let me carry him out for you,” I offer, picking up the four-year-old who sat on my lap for the better part of an hour.

  I swear, the jaws of my family collectively drop. They’re probably stunned that I’m offering to help out with kids, or that Penelope and I are so cool after what I said at the Goat. Honestly, they’re most likely shocked at all of it, and more.

  “Thanks …” Penelope looks a little speechless, so I proceed out to her car.

  The moment she sat down next to me at the dinner table, I’d felt my hands itching to touch her. Honestly, the moment she walked into my mother’s house, I realized just how much I miss her. From her initial silence, it was clear she was still pissed at me. It had been a risk putting my fingers on her leg under the table, but fuck …

  I couldn’t help it.

  And then when the boys had asked me to play video games with them, I’d jumped at the chance. If I had any hope of getting back onto Penelope’s good side, this was the moment. Of course, I hadn’t been chummy with her kids just to get her attention. Those little dudes were actually pretty cool … and getting better at gaming using the tricks I’d taught them.

  No one follows us out, not her girlfriends or my mom. If they weren’t thinking something weird was going on between us before, they might now. But it was a risk I was willing to take.

  I wanted to resume our agreement again.

  After the kids are loaded into the car, I turn to her before she can open the driver’s side door.

  “You didn’t return my texts or calls,” I say this not in anger, but more as a fact.

  Penelope’s green eyes meet mine in the darkness. “Did you think I would?”

  “No.” I chuckle. “I figure you’re about as good of a grudge holder as I am.”

  “Thanks for helping with the boys.” She tries to change the subject.

  “I want to see you, P,” I tell her.

  A beat of silence passes. “I’m right in front of you.”

  “I wasn’t being literal, and you know it. Don’t play dumb. I’m being serious with you.”

  “Forrest …”

  I reach out to run a singular finger up and down her arm. Just that touch is not enough … in just a few short weeks I’ve become addicted.

  “Come on. I’m truly sorry, P. We’re good together, you know that. We can just be friends, with those fantastic benefits.” I’m pushing her, but I can’t help it.

  Penelope turns her head, studying my mom’s square patch of lawn. She clucks her tongue, chews her lip, and then shakes her head as if she disagrees with whatever the voice inside of it is telling her to do.

  Then, she turns back to me, a resigned annoyance on her face. “I’ll call you this week.”

  And with that, she gets in the car. I stand in the driveway, staring as she backs out, with a small smile on my face.

  Penelope wears the same kind of grin, and I know the game is back on.

  When I walk back into the house, no one says anything about Penelope’s exit, but I can feel the questions on the tips of their tongues.

  “Forrest, stay for a bit and help me clean up?” Mom asks.

  My three brothers look surprised because it’s usually Keaton or Fletcher who take care of Mom. And Bowen is the one who fixes thing
s in her house when they need fixing. I’m typically the last one to do things for her, not that I wouldn’t. But I think they all still assume I’m only concerned with myself and therefore don’t even ask me to help.

  “Sure, Ma.” Because I’d never say no to my own mother.

  The rest of my family kisses Mom, with Presley lingering longer in a conversation I can’t make out. And then they’re out the door, leaving Mom and I to ourselves.

  “Thanks for making the time to come tonight,” Mom says as we clear the table together.

  She sets the candlesticks, the ones I know that her mother gifted her, on the hutch in her dining room. This might not be my childhood home, as she sold that and moved into her condo about two years ago, but it sure as hell looks like it. Every piece is one that has meaning from my youth. The table in the kitchen that Bowen accidentally shot a BB gun at … and you can still see the indents from the pellets. The bookcases that Fletcher and I tried to climb, and one eventually fell over almost crushing my twin, that sit in her living room.

  “Of course, Ma. You don’t have to thank me for that. I’m that big an asshole.”

  Somewhere along the way, my family labeled me as the selfish one, and when you’re told something for so long, you start to believe it yourself.

  “Language, please,” she admonishes me. “I just mean, I know you’re on a big case.”

  “Did Keaton tell you that?” I hate when my brothers tried to guess at my work.

  Mom shakes her head. “I’m your mother, Forrest. Your eyes are rimmed with dark circles, your beard is grown out, and you seemed distracted all night. You might not think so, but I know when you’re on a big case just by looking at you.”

  I concede, nodding. “It’s a tough one. But nothing I can’t solve.”

  “I have no doubt in that. Your brain always did amaze me. Your father, too.” We clear the last of the serving dishes to the kitchen, and I take my place at the drying rack.

  This has always been our one place. She washes, I dry. It’s tradition, one she tries to reserve for her and me.