He drinks, and I let him, while he moves inside me again, because whatever this is—comfort, kink, control—it feels better than being alone, even if it ruins me later. Even if he tells me to go, breaking my heart like the last one did.
Chapter 15
Caleb
The cab of Wade’s truck smells like old leather, motor oil, and thick black coffee from Wade’s thermos cup. The man is coffee obsessed.
We’re headed into town for feed and fencing nails, and whatever else is on the list, but I know damn well there’s another reason we’re leaving the ranch today. We need some space and a chance to talk without anyone’s eyes or ears on us about what the hell Wade was doing with Joelle last night.
My twin has one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the window like he hasn’t a single care in the world.
But I know better.
He’s been wound tight ever since Joelle showed up. Tighter now that he’shadher.
“So,” I say after a few miles of quiet road. “You gonna tell me what your plan is with her?”
He doesn’t look at me, but grunts, “What plan?”
“With Joelle.”
“Yeah. I know who you’re talkin’ about.” He scratches his jaw. “No plan. Just hoping she stays.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Even with the kid?”
Wade nods, no hesitation. “Kid’s no issue. House is big. If she wants to build somethin’, she can do it here.”
That surprises me, not because Wade’s cold because he’s not, but he usually only trusts those who earn it first.
“She knows that?” I ask.
“I told her,” he mutters, but the flicker of hesitation in his voice reveals uncertainty.
There’s a big difference between telling her she can stay because her work trial is over and telling her to stay as a lover.
We’re about ten minutes from our nearest small town when I lean back in my seat and let my arm hang out the window, allowing the breeze to cool the sweat on my palm.
“And what about me, Wade?”
That’s the question I should never have to ask. We’re twins. We’ve spent a lifetime making decisions together. When our father died, and we inherited the ranch, we promised each other that the security of our business would always come first. We saw firsthand how easily a marriage could destroy our claim. Luckily, our father had already put the business in our names before he put a ring on Joelle’s mom’s finger. But I’m not going to stand by and find myself sidelined by this situation.
Worse, I was always closer to Joelle than Wade was. If anyone should have a chance to make her happy, and build a life, it should be me. I love my brother like I love myself, but he’s gruff and reserved, and far less capable of meeting a woman’s emotional needs than I am. And Joelle hasemotional needs greater than most women her age. She has a son, which is a level of responsibility that neither of us has even contemplated.
He gives a low laugh, throat-deep. “You know what I like.”
I do.
Wade’s a watcher. A sharer. That kink is hard to indulge when you live in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.
“Joelle’s not like that,” I say.
“You sure?” He turns to me, his eyes off the road long enough to take in the flush to my cheeks at the thought of becoming part of whatever they have going on.
“I don’t know, Wade. You know more about her now than I do.”
“She’s only been with one man before me,” he says. “And only once. Can you believe that? Some asshole got her pregnant and left nothing but dust in his wake.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, my fists balling at my sides. Men like that deserve the hottest, most torturous place in hell.
