“I do know you, Hendrix. Whether you like it or not.”
He chuckled, muttering “Agnes” with a smile. When he went quiet again, I dragged my eyes to the side, only to find him looking back at me with renewed curiosity.
“What?” I asked.
“The standoffish attitude, the suits… they’re your armor, aren’t they?”
Yes. I dragged my knuckles over my sternum, using the pain to distract me. “Like your stage antics and don’t-give-a-shit attitude,” I threw back.
“Have you told Holden about the property yet?”
I grimaced, and his eyes sharpened. “I don’t know how to approach it,” I said. “I was thinking I’d wait till construction was done and then have a Lost Boys bonfire, if he’s willing. Thought it might be a good way to take things back.”
“Behind that stiff upper lip is the heart of a poet,” Hendrix observed. “You act so detached, but you’re always the first one there, helping wherever you can.”
I sucked in a deep breath, trying to ease the sudden tightness in my chest. “You do the same,” I pointed out. “You open your wallet just as much as I do. More, even.”
“Yeah, but you’re quiet about your contributions. Most of the time, the people you’re helping don’t know where the help is coming from. As a result, people barely even notice you.”
“Not everyone needs attention, Hendrix.” I frowned at how shitty that sounded, but he tipped his mouth into a smirk. I could practically feel my blood rerouting itself south, and I begged my body not to betray me.
“You don’t need to hide from us,” he said, his words surprisingly warm. “You do know that, right?”
I swallowed. “Maybe.”
“For what it’s worth, I think Holden and Ren will love the idea of taking back the narrative on that place.”
“That’s good.”
Hen stared at me for a long moment. Longer than was comfortable. Long enough for my body to notice. Then, tapping out a rhythm with his socked foot, he went back to scratching out the new song. I got up and let myself back into the house, increasingly uncomfortable as my dick decided to do whatever the hell it wanted to.
Retreating to my room, I slipped out of my clothes and lay back on the bed. Fishing my engorged shaft out of my underwear, I pictured Hendrix’s pouty, uncooperative mouth. I envisioned myself cupping the back of his head, pushing past his lips. I imagined his narrow-eyed look as he relaxed the back of histhroat and took me to the root, glaring up at me as he sucked me, fucking himself on his fingers.
I came so fast my heart felt like it was going to explode.
Christ.
Mom was right. I was in so much trouble.
CHAPTER 11
hendrix
I fucking hated taking walks for my fucking mental health. I hated even more that it worked because Sawyer would get all superior about it.
He’d be unbearable if I told him how much I enjoyed Texas’s fall and winter seasons. Thanksgiving was next week, and the rainy season had given way to bright, cloudless skies as far as the eye could see, with temperatures in the mid-eighties.
This morning, Sawyer was about three paces ahead of me, leaving me in the dust as we left Ren’s property and entered the neighborhood. I had to wonder if living with me for the last three months had finally worn down his sanity.
To be fair, a normal person would’ve snapped at the first attempt to get me to exercise. Sawyer had to practically drag me out of the cabin for the quarter mile walk to the entry gate, and I complained the entire time. I also may have been a tiny bit dramatic about the bee we encountered. Bonus: I got super winded, and he let me ride piggyback on the way back to the cabin.
It was hard to feel bad about driving him crazy, though, considering how he’d been torturing me with all this fucking sunshine and healthy food. Besides, Ihadwarned him that I was a nightmare to live with. It wasn’t my fault that I was right.
“Hey, Agnes, would you slow the fuck down? We’re not in a race,” I called out, using the last of my damned oxygen.
Just because walking made my brain better didn’t mean I was any good at the activity. You’d think after weeks of doing this I’d at least be a little less winded, but no. I wondered if Sawyer had been subtly upping the pace this entire time to build my endurance or whatever. I wouldn’t put it past him.
Still, the constant headaches and low-lying stress had let up, so maybe there was some method to his madness. One way or another, despite Sawyer’s attempts to mother me, I felt more at ease.
