“What fears?” I ask, closing the book in my lap. There is no way I’ll get any reading done so long as they’re here.
I got off work this morning at eleven, and about four hours later, both of my brothers let themselves into August’s house, waking me from my nap and asking me to join them for a smoke session in the sunroom.
I haven’t ventured in here much since moving in, but it’s a nice enough space. Clearly, August uses it as some kind of studio with a makeshift tattooing bench and a worktable sprawled with canvas paper and pencils. There is a couch against the back wall, facing out into the backyard through the wall-to-wall windows across from it, and a lounge chair in the corner.
Supposedly, Darby kicked Leo out of the house for a few hours this afternoon because he’s smothering her. He says he’s not, and we all know that isn’t true. He smothers her on a good day, when she’s not pregnant. The way I’d describe him now is more like he’s attempting to crawl inside her skin and carry the baby for her.
I don’t blame her for telling him to get out of her face and settle down before coming back home.
“My dad abandoned me,” Leo continues. “I mean…he loved my mom, but he couldn’t do it without her, and when he had to, he just gave up.” He speaks of the situation casually, but the distant look in his eyes and the way he chews on the inside of his cheek tells me it’s something he battles with often. “What if something happened to Darby, and I ended up the same way?”
“It’s not something in your blood, Leo,” Everett scoffs. “That kind of shit is learned behavior, and that asshole didn’t raise you. Carlos and Monica Ramos raised you, and they did a good fucking job. The only thing in your genes is a susceptibility to alcoholism, which is why you smoke weed.” Everett nods toward the bong. “You’re going to be a good dad.”
Leo sends him a grateful smile. “You’re a good dad too.”
“I know.”
“Do you guys think I’ll be a good mom?” I ask.
Everett inhales so sharply he begins coughing, and Leo looks at me like I just kicked a dog. Their heads swivel frantically between me and each other, eyes wide, mouths gaping, unsure how to respond.
I burst into laughter, the sativa Leo brought beginning to kick in. “I’m kidding. You know I don’t want fuckin’ kids.”
Everett lets out a sigh of relief as Leo rubs a hand down his face.
“You have all the qualities of being a good mother, but your lifelong adamancy of not giving birth kind of threw me,” Leo says. “You will be a cool-ass aunt, though.”
“Oh, absolutely.” I nod rapidly. “I’m going to be super mysterious and edgy. I’ll teach them all tarot and how to put a man in his place. I’ll show them where to find the sluttiest fanfics on the internet, and I’ll introduce them to Lana Del Rey so they never forget who our Lord and Savior really is.”
They frown at me, and I’m so fucking happy that both of my brothers are girl dads. I laugh again, falling back onto the throw pillow behind my head and tossing my legs into my brother’s lap.
“I like hearing you laugh, Lele,” Everett admits. “You seem like you’re doing better, and Dal said you’re doing a great job at the bakery.”
“Tell my boss not to talk about her employees to her boyfriend. It’s unprofessional and none of your fuckin’ business.” I kick a leg out, pointing at him with my big toe.
The grand opening of the bakery was this past weekend, and it went amazingly. People came from all over the region to celebrate it. Turns out Dahlia’s background in marketing, graphic design, and social media did wonders for promoting the bakery and the boardwalk as a whole. I worked three twelve-hour days in a row, the entire family along with me, and I can’t remember the last time I was so fucking exhausted.
It served as a good distraction after whatever the fuck happened with August in my room last week. I’ve hardly seen him since, having just one wordless run-in in the kitchen on Thursday.
When I decided to masturbate with my bedroom door wide open, right around the time he gets home from work, I knew that I’d inevitably cause chaos because of it. I thought he’d sulk, slam doors, and maybe yell at me later on. I did not think he’d appear in my doorway for a front row show, but once he started playing the game, I didn’t have the strength to call time-out. I joined right in, and something far too real erupted from that pent-up frustration.
It was rough and wild and painful, but soft and tender and raw at the same time.
Emotionally exhausting and spiritually fulfilling, all while providing a desperately needed release I’ve been craving far too long.
Nothing has ever felt like that—like him.
It’s equal parts terrifying and addicting, and I want to do it all over again. I want more of it. All of him. The yearning to feel him inside me is agony—a constant gnawing urge I can’t relinquish on my own. The need festers beneath my skin.
I’m hot just thinking about it.
“Elena?”
My eyes snap to my twin’s, face flushing. “What?”
“What are you thinking about?” Leo nudges me with his knee.
I don’t bother lying. “An orgasm I had last week.”
