Instead, I think about all the work I need to get done.
My custom furniture building business has blown up in the last six months. I’ve got a huge influx of orders with no end in sight. It’s a good thing, exactly what I’ve been working hard on since I was eighteen and decided to go to trade school. But holy shit are my nerves shot. I’ve taken on too many orders with a tight-as-fuck timeline that is borderline impossible.
A few days ago, when Lennox was brought to the hospital in Rosedale, I stopped taking new orders. I knew I couldn’t keep up this workload and be there for my baby brother when he needed me the most. I still have a ton to catch up on, but once I make it through my existing orders, I can re-evaluate how much work I take on.
I’m to the point now where I’m pretty sought after, so business isn’t hard to come by anymore. I can pick and choose when I open up commissions and then close them, with little effect on my overall business. It’s something I’m not used to at all. I’m used to hustling for every order, every small piece that costs more to make than I made on the back end. Scraping by and begging for a chance to show my furniture.
This newfound popularity has come at a great time, though, if I need to shut everything down to help Lennox. I’m reminded of the doctor saying that emotionally, he’ll have a lot to work through, and I know being more available is the only choice. Family is everything to me, and no obscenely expensive commission will change that.
I take one more deep breath, pushing down all my overwhelming emotions before turning around and making my way back to the dresser I was working on.
It’s finally Friday.
Thank whatever deity I need to thank, but I made it. The dresser got done as well as the two nightstands to match, and all I need to do is deliver them tomorrow.
I’ve been working sixteen-hour days all week to finish this order on time and now my brain can stop thinking. My body can get the release it so desperately wants, and then I can crash for ten hours.
My shoulders slump in relief as I drive the forty minutes to Rosedale to pick up Lennox. I’m breaking him out, and I think everyone is as relieved as he is. Ledger hosted family dinner last night so we could all be on the same page when we brought Lennox home, and it was so nice to get back to our normal routine. It felt like we hadn’t done family dinner in months, even though it had only been a couple of weeks. When you do something every single week since we were all babies, it’s difficult to not have it. It wasn’t quite the same without Lennox, but it was a step in the right direction.
By the time I get Lennox into my truck, he’s successfully pissed everyone off in the area. I know he’s the free spirit who basically lives in the wild, and being cooped up for so long is wearing on him, but damn. The boy did not need to be an ass to the poor nurse who wheeled him out. Even I know it’s hospital policy that you can’t just walk out by yourself. It wasn’t the nurse’s fault. But I know he feels helpless. And if there’sanything us Huttons hate, it’s being helpless in any way. It’s why we’ve all been so successful in our own careers.
“I know you’re dying to get home, but damn, Lenny, what did that poor nurse do to you?”
“I know.” He runs his hand over his face. “Fuck. Did you tell her sorry for me?”
“Of course I did. It’s not like anyone is blaming you anyway.”
“That’s not an excuse,” he mutters.
I choose not to compound his guilt. He has enough going on at the moment. I look at the clock and realize I’ll probably need to drop off Lennox so I can meet Arlo at our allotted time. I pull my phone out quickly and send a text to Willow, asking if she can come meet me at Lennox’s house so he isn’t alone when I drop him off. It’s more of a precaution, and I’m probably a huge bitch for ditching him for sex, but I need this.
The entire drive home, he talks about how we’re babying him. When I calmly try to tell him one of us was going to pick him up, he says he could have taken a rideshare. I almost lose what little shred of patience I have. I understand we’re all struggling with everything that happened, but shit, does he really think we’d let him take a rideshare home?
It honestly makes me glad Willow will be there when I drop him off. I think I’ll probably jump his shit if he keeps up this sullen teenager act, even if he has a good reason for it.
The drop-off is pretty seamless. Oakley is there with Willow, so they get Lennox inside, and I throw up a wave before peeling out of the driveway. I love my brother, and I will gladly drop by tomorrow and listen to him bitch all day long. But today? I’m at the end of my rope. I need sleep and sex—definitely not in that order—to put myself backon equal footing. To clear my head enough to be a good sister and not the asshole I feel like I’m being right now.
Arlo agreed to meet me at my place because it’s a little outside of town, with the benefit of no neighbors. I bought the land when my business started to kick off and I needed to make a workshop to house all the furniture I was building. Arlo lives near the center of town, right off of Main Street, so he’s close to the “action”, I assume. I’ll tell you whose house we won’t be using for these trysts.
Nope, it’ll be one time and nothing more. A one-time distraction, then I’ll go back to my normal routine. Go back to ignoring the asshole and actively avoiding him whenever he’s nearby.
I pull up to my little slice of Bluebell Falls and think about the last fifteen odd years. Sure, this isn’t where I thought my life would go, but as I look at my mid-sized cottage on the couple of acres of land, I feel good about it. I’ve created a business from scratch, and it may be killing me at the moment, but I’d call myself successful.
Success in business does not equal a fulfilling life.
God, I hate existential thinking. It’s not who I am. I’m a realist through and through, and thinking about how things could be or should be is not in my nature.
I’m happy with how my life has turned out. Sure, I’m thirty-six and single as fuck, but being single isn’t really the problem. I don’t see myself with the whole picket fence and perfect family anymore. The problem is, I need some damn sex once in a while. Sure, vibrators are great, but sometimes I just want the real thing. The intensity, not just the release.
Cue Arlo, hauling ass up my driveway and pulling in next to me. I roll down my window, waving at him to do the same.
“Park behind the barn,” I say blandly.
“Are you serious right now?” He sounds appalled, but I don’t give a shit. I will not be the talk of this town. I will not have people speculating that there’s even a remote chance of something going on between the two of us.
“Deadly. I’m not taking any chances of the meddlesome trio seeing anything.”
“Jim, Mabel, and Alice are at bingo right now,” he says calmly, but I can see the clench of his jaw.
