The Job (Auctioned) by Cara Dee (highly illogical behavior txt) 📕

Ouch. That one packed a punch.

“We are a family, baby,” Boone insisted. “We make our own way, don’t we?”

She huffed a little and turned onto her side, facing away from him.

I suppressed a sigh and ran a hand through my hair. Even if everything was good between Boone and me, how were we ever supposed to give her what she wanted? It made perfect sense for her to want her parents living together, but those parents were also brothers in our messy situation.

One day, Boone was gonna meet someone. Settle down, get married, maybe have another kid. I’d hopefully meet someone too. I just couldn’t see it happening. Nothing that went beyond casual arrangements and short-term relationships. Four years of shoving Boone out of my life hadn’t changed my feelings, so it was difficult to see a future where I got over him.

“Ace.” Boone put a hand on her shoulder. “Come on, Aisley Paisley. You gonna send me off without a hug?”

Oh, for chrissakes. “You might as well stay tonight,” I said. “It’s three in the morning.”

Boone glanced back at me with a fair amount of hesitation written across his features, and he would have to sort that out himself. The dog chose that moment to remind me of her presence, so I left the room and headed for the kitchen.

“Ace wanted to give you Red Bull,” I told the dog, filling a bowl with water. “Remember that if you wake up and gotta piss. Her room’s open.” To showcase how nice I was, I even grabbed a few slices of turkey from the fridge. “Let’s find you a spot, yeah?”

With the turkey and water in one hand, I grabbed a blanket from the couch and prepared the corner between the TV unit and the wall to the kitchen. Then I left her alone while she went to town on the turkey, and I threw the couch cushions on the floor and moved the coffee table. It was a good thing I’d bought a big couch so Boone could fit in there with me.

I sighed at the thought. How many nights had we spent together? How many nights had his brotherly and naturally affectionate personality fucking tortured me? He hadn’t even seen the point in buying two beds when we’d lived together last time. Back then, Ace always ended up in the middle of the bed too. We’d wake up to her little feet padding across the floor. She delivered the same lie. Nightmare. Because she’d noticed Boone caved instantly when she’d had a bad dream.

Once I’d made the bed, I returned to the kitchen and switched on the oven to preheat. Middle of the night or not, I was hungry. Boone could probably eat too, so I grabbed the biggest frozen pizza that fit in my tiny freezer. Pepperoni and extra cheese with stuffed crust, fuck yeah. And a Pop-Tart or two while I waited.

When Boone emerged from Ace’s room, I was trying to decide what flavor Pop-Tart I wanted. I had an entire cabinet just for them. Granted, it was a narrow corner cabinet, but I was still proud of my collection.

“I’m making pizza,” I mentioned.

“If Pop-Tart came out with a pepperoni version, I ain’t callin’ it pizza.”

I laughed and picked out the box with cinnamon roll flavor. “This is just as we wait. Want one?”

“Sure. Got any s’more flavored?”

“Got any s’more flavored,” I scoffed. “Of-fucking-course I do. I keep blueberry around too.” It was his favorite. I thought it tasted like medicine.

“If I say I’m flattered and a little touched, you’re just gonna ruin it,” he said.

I would never.

“It’s no secret that you’re a little touched, big brother.” I popped the pastries, two of each, into the toaster, then turned around and leaned back against the counter.

He smirked wryly and leaned against the doorframe.

“Did you turn Ace’s frown upside down?” I wondered.

He nodded with a dip of his chin. “Crisis averted.”

“For now.” Because this would come back at some point. “We’ll have to talk to her sooner or later.”

“We?” He hitched a brow. “How about you have that conversation with her? I was happy with us livin’ together.”

I frowned, both confused and annoyed. For one, he couldn’t honestly see us sharing a home as a long-term solution. For two… “Why do you sound like a bitter ex?”

“Why do I feel like one?” He shrugged.

“Fuck if I know.” I’d throw my arms out in frustration if I wouldn’t hit them against the oven and the sink. My kitchen wasn’t big. “At least with an ex, I’d have some memories of good sex to keep me goin’.”

He snorted and folded his arms over his chest. “I don’t know what to tell you. I thought we were on the same page. We were gonna work our asses off to get outta that shitty apartment and buy a house or something.”

I swallowed uneasily. It was messed up how perfectly our dreams could align—and yet be worlds apart. “Sounds great and all,” I muttered. “Until you find the woman you wanna start your own family with.”

He let out a laugh. “Why do you sound like a bitter ex, Case?”

Because I fucking felt like one.

The Pop-Tarts saved me from responding, and I plated them before I told him to take them to the living room. I needed a minute. It was already becoming too much. Teaming up for gigs brought us so close, partly because we worked weird hours that often left us with long nights where we had nothing to do but shoot the shit, eat, talk about Ace, and just be with each other. And I wasn’t sure I could go down that road again. Last time I’d cut all ties, I’d spent a week at the bottom of a bottle, and my anger had led me to take unnecessary risks at work. I’d stopped giving a fuck, which was dangerous. If I landed my ass in jail again and couldn’t see my