Trent responds. “One that you gave me.”
Fucking hell.
“I don’t want any of you!” I yell. “I don’t want to be seen, and I don’t want to see you! Get out! Take your stupid book club and your stupid books and shove it all up your asses!”
“Pretty sure now isn’t the time for me to mention that book club was his idea, right?” Wes asks, and if I weren’t fetal, I’d find the strength to stand up and strangle him with my bare hands.
“Jesus, Whitney. Don’t be a dick,” Thatch says on a sigh. “And what am I always fluffing saying? For the love of Philmore, we can’t leave these guys unattended anymore.”
“We didn’t know he was this close to rock bottom,” Trent whispers.
“The biggest assholes always fall the hardest!” Thatch booms. “Fluffing hell, we’re in crisis mode here! Stop standing around with your dicks in your hands, and get to work!”
I tighten the blanket around my face as he starts spouting off orders. “You. Get me a clean blanket, a bottle of water, and a toothbrush. You. Get me an ounce of tequila, a lime, and some salt. You. Get me the latest Sports Illustrated and a turkey melt.”
“What the hell do you need Sports Illustrated for?” Theo asks, and Thatch snaps.
“Just do what I say! We don’t have time for motherfluffing questions!”
Theo must leave because a minute later, Thatch moans. “Shit. I should have told him I wanted the turkey melt on rye.”
“I don’t like rye bread,” I mutter from under my blanket fort. Thatch laughs.
“The turkey melt is for me. Relationship grief counseling really takes it out of me.”
“Fucking hell, Thatch,” Kline criticizes, but Thatch is too busy paying attention to the pathetic man beneath the blanket—me.
“Oh. Right. So, you’re awake. And alive. These are really good first steps.”
I lift one hand with an extended middle finger outside the covers.
“Flipping me off!” he cheers. “Even better.”
“Go away and die.”
Thatch chuckles. “It’s good to see you making progress.”
“I’m not making progress,” I disagree. “I’m not making anything. I’m going to stay right here until my body fuses to the cushions and the forensic team has to bring in a special crew just to clean me up.”
“That’s definitely an option,” Thatch says seriously, snapping his fingers somewhere in front of me now. “Though, you’re not actually on the couch right now like you think you are.”
I’m not? I peek outside of the blanket and look around. “Where the hell am I?”
“The floor,” my buddy Quince answers. He really is my most helpful friend.
There’s the scurry of feet as Thatch orders, “Clean off this table.”
“Okay,” Quince says. “But I’m not doing it because you told me to.”
“Sure, you’re not, Quincy,” Thatch says with a chuckle. “Sure, you’re not.”
I feel a flurry of activity and then the heat of Thatch’s mountainous body as he puts his ass to the top of my now clean coffee table.
I’m not sure if it’ll hold his weight for very long, but I don’t care. I hope he falls right through it.
“All right, champ. Time to get yourself out of this mess. And I mean that literally. I’ve never seen such an impressive display of shitty hygiene.”
“Go away,” I groan. “I don’t want this. I want to wallow here forever.”
Kline steps forward then, I can tell by the way he stands. He’s a whole lot less assuming. “That’s fine, Cap.”
“It’s not fine!” Thatch protests, jumping up from the table. “What the hell are you doing, K?”
Kline doesn’t say anything, but he must command it silently, because Thatch’s big body settles immediately.
I peek out from under my blanket again. I can’t help it.
Kline’s eyes are sympathetic. “It’s fine if you want to stay here. I get it. Most of us get it. But what if there’s another option you’re not thinking of? A better one.”
I glance from him to Thatch and back again before asking skeptically, “What better one?”
“You don’t wallow. You don’t fuse to the couch. Instead, you get off your ass, and you get your woman back.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to get her back. I never really had her in the first place.”
He nods sagely, turning away, pacing in front of my windows and then turning back and crossing his arms over his chest. I can’t help but watch him.
“Maybe not. But holy shit, Cap…can you imagine if you could have…and you didn’t try?”
“We told you you were gonna fuck up,” Thatch reminds me. “You’ve done it, and it sucks. But now you