Chapter 11

Winnie

I know Max Hammer well enough to guess he’ll be in the home gym, so the first place I head is to the stairs leading down to the basement.

I have to grip the stair railing for dear life to steady myself as I walk down so that I don’t break my neck. If it wasn’t for my weak knees, breathlessness, and the desperate, carnal need for more of my boys still pulsing between my thighs, I would swear I was dreaming.

Did that just happen? What is my life!

But as mind-blowing as the last half hour was – holy shit, is that really all it’s been since I followed their voices out of bed? – I need to not think about the others for five minutes and talk to Max.

Somehow I push aside thoughts of Theo and Leo sandwiching my body between theirs… the feel of Gavin’s stud against my tongue… Axel’s breath ghosting along my neck as he curled his fingers into my… .

Whoa, girl, get it together.

I pause to squeeze my thighs together when I reach the door at the bottom of the stairs. There’s a lot of thunking and clunking, clinking and clanking coming from the other side of the door. When I ease it open, the subtle aroma of cleaning spray hangs in the air, softening the tangy scent of sweat leftover from whichever Hammer worked out earlier this morning. There must be an intense amount of lingering pheromones, or else I really am so freaking horny that the smell of the Hammer brother’s sweat makes me want to race back to the living room at once, flinging my pajamas off as I run…

Focus. On. MAX!

There’s another round of thunking and clunking to distract me. I want to call out and ask if he’s lifting weights or throwing them around, because that’s more what it sounds like. But I catch sight of him in one of the full-length mirrors, and my mouth goes dry.

Max doesn’t seem to notice me from where he’s doing bicep curls with astonishingly large dumbbells. Or if he does, he doesn’t show it. He’s too deeply focused on his workout routine. His bulging muscles are the epitome of grace and strength.

Popsy and the boys put this gym together several years ago, between seasons of the show. He let the boys buy the latest everything, to their absolute delight. The tall windows and back door are at ground level to the patio and Anna’s vegetable garden. Sunlight bathes the entire basement with a soft morning glow. It’s beautiful down here.

This is my first time seeing it in person and it’s hard to believe that this was ever an actual basement, dark and packed full with long-forgotten boxes of toddler clothes and building blocks. We used to play hide and seek in the darkness, but now everywhere I look is bright and open.

Hidden speakers around the room soften the space with light music. Wait, is that…? Yeah, it is Adele, her voice drenched in sorrow and pain.

Thunk. Clunk.

Clink. Clank.

“Sounds like a poltergeist down here.” I call as I head over to him.

Sweat glistens on his skin, evidence of his exertion even though he doesn’t show any exertion whatsoever.

Max shoots me a wry look as he sets the barbells down. “Well, I’m happy to see your lips haven’t fallen off.” His voice is light, joking as he grabs his towel and dries the sweat on his face and shoulders. “I wasn’t quite sure my brothers would leave you in one piece.”

He puts down the towel and looks at me. First in the eyes, then along all of the places his brothers touched me, his expression impossible to decipher.

Is he mad?

That I can’t tell bugs me. I can always tell with Max.

I close the gap between us. “Hey.”

When I reach out to touch him, he turns his head away and says, “Don’t, okay?”

Oh, boy.

“Max,” I begin .

“It’s okay, Win.”

He grabs his phone from the floor beside the workout bench. Staring hard at the screen, he flicks his thumb enough times that I wonder for a fraction of a second if this is how he’s dismissing me, and the hurt cuts through me almost as hard as when I learned about the pact and his stupid lies.

The music shuts off. Max drops his phone, though he still doesn’t look my way.

“Max, I–”

“Really,” he interrupts. “It’s okay.”

But it doesn’t feel okay. It feels like I’ve severed some connection between us. I try again. Because it’s Max. I have to try until I get through to him. “I probably should’ve at least talked to you first, though. I mean, before…”

“Before you let every one of my brothers rub you all over themselves, one after the other, like they were some kind of kinky assembly line, with a saliva-cleansing machine and–”

“Eww, Max, stop . What, are you writing car wash erotica, now? We made out. That’s all.”

Okay, even I know that while I’m being technical, I’m still lying a little. None of those felt like just making out .

I want to call him out for not telling me about the pact, about how they all felt, but that little voice in my gut tells me I need to tread lightly here.

“Anyway,” I say, “it was a one-time thing.”

“Don’t you mean a nine-time thing?” he mutters, and I want to grab his sweat rag and swat him in the ego .

“Six, but you can shut up. I was going to say that, even though I have been convinced that you all… feel things for me, too, there’s no way.

He raises a brow. “No way for what, specifically?”

“This,” I try to explain. “Us. Them. Me. You.”

Now both of his brows are up.

I let out a sigh. “What I’m trying to say is that I can never choose one of you over the others. I know that now more than ever.”

My words settle into the space between us, heavy enough that I have to check the corners of my eyes

There is a long pause before he answers. “What does this mean for you and me?” he asks, finally, but he’s not making eye contact.

“We’re going to need to, you know. Stop.”

But if it makes you feel any better, I’d rather cut off my right ear.

“Alright.”

I shift my weight from foot to foot, waiting on him to say more. He doesn’t.

“Max–”

He reaches for his weights, turning further away from me. “I just need some space, alright? Please, Win?”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay.”

“Hey, Win?” he calls and hope surges through me.

“Yeah? ”

“Why only six?”

“I cut it short when I realized you’d left. Checking on you was more important to me than–”

“Sorry to have ruined the fun,” he says.

“Max–”

“Just give me some space,” he says again.

And I do.

I am well over my recommended daily allowance of testosterone and I haven’t even had breakfast yet. Usually stress makes me hungry, but at the moment, I’m still too twisted up to eat. I need some perspective, and I need it now.

I need Goldie.

As I wander back through the house, and upstairs to my room, I try not to be seen by anyone. It’s an easy feat. Too easy of a feat. Where did everyone go? The Hammer home is ginormous, but it’s still usually impossible to take a step without tripping over a Hammer.

I linger on the stairs and allow myself to be distracted by all of the family photos that dot the wall. The love and joy is palpable from the still images of long-gone moments. I normally hate seeing pictures of myself, but my inclusion on this wall brings on happy tears. With them, I was always smiling, always taken care of, always watched out for. Always treated as if I mattered. As if I was wanted. Those feelings, those memories–the only good parts of my past in Smithville–are captured within these frames .

I will never do anything to jeopardize what I have with my boys.

I continue on, pausing here and there. I love every single part of this house, every nook and cranny. Everything except for the rare view of the house across the street. Anna often shut the curtains so that I wouldn’t have to see it. Will it be possible to exorcize my ghosts, even with all ten of the Hammer brothers by my side? I can’t imagine it, but I can’t imagine them ever letting me down, either.

Once in my room, I grab my phone from the bedside table, and sink onto the bed. Goldie answers on the first ring.

“I MISS YOU SO MUCH!” she wails. “I have no idea what I’m doing with my life. I feel adrift! Totally adrift! Do you think I’ve peaked already? I think I may’ve peaked already.”

Okay, so perhaps Goldie wasn’t the right person to turn to for perspective. But she’s clearly spiraling and it’s my duty as her friend to save her from herself, rescue from her funk, and distract her by completely and utterly blowing her mind.

“I made out with all the Hammer brothers!” I say in a rush. “Well, not all,” I frown. “Six. Well, seven, if we’re getting technical, but that’s a different story.”

There’s silence and of course, my first thought is that she doesn’t believe me.

But then she screeches, “OH MY GOD. Why did you never tell me this! I would have kept it off the record! Like when? Over the course of the show? Over the course of your life?”

“Over the course of… since like almost an hour ago? ”

Technically that’s not true since I haven’t made out with Max since last night. There’s a vase of fresh, colorful flowers that Anna left in a milk pitcher on the bedside table, and I run my finger over the delicate petals as it sinks in that I will never make out with Max Hammer again. For a moment, I, too, feel totally adrift.

“WHAT! Tell me everything. Tell me everything right now. Wait. I have to know. Who’s the best kisser? I bet it’s Gav with the hardware, holy smokes.”

“Goldie,” I say to her. “Producer mode off, best girl friend mode on, please.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry. I am so happy for you! Tell me everything!” she squeals.

“Everything? You asked for it.”

Flopping backward onto the bed, and scooting myself around so that I’m nestled into the generous helping of pillows, I start with the story of my friends-with-benefitship with Max.

She’s stunned into silence – I know this because she tells me.

Next, I tell her how the guys found out about it. I only pause when I get to the part about the spin-off.

“Tell me you didn’t know about Winnie’s Favorite Hammer,” I say. “Golds.”

“Winnie’s Favorite Hammer?”

I can tell without seeing her that her brows are knitted together and she’s pursing her lips. Her I-have-no-clue-what-you’re-talking-about face .

Trying hard to keep my voice from shaking, I explain.

“Holy shit!” she cries. “Girl. If I would’ve known about that, you would’ve known about that. I can’t believe the guys didn’t tell you. Why?”

I resume my story, keeping some details to myself, of course, and get all the way up to the part with Max in the basement before I pause again.

My pause makes Goldie impatient because she says, “Girl, why the silence? You better not be slapping the clam over there! Although, I would totally be slapping the clam if I were you. In fact, if you give me a quick little minute to take off my pants, we can slap our clams in unison while you tell me – with painstakingly lurid descriptions, obviously– which Hammer bro is the best kisser and why!”

I burst out laughing. Only Goldie.

“I miss you too,” I tell her. “But there will be no mutual clam slappage here, okay? And I couldn’t tell you who the best kisser is. They’re all…”

My voice trails off as playful shouts from the yard below my window remind me that the Hammer brothers are always somewhere near. From the sounds of splashing water and joyful laughter, I can guess at least most of them are poolside.

“Okay, okay,” Goldie says as I climb off of the bed. “You refuse to reveal some secrets. Changing the subject. Now, tell me, who has the biggest schlong?”

Sunlight seeps through the sheer, billowy curtains, which I move aside so that I can catch a better sight of the guys at the pool, knowing the light will obscure me from their view. Tan biceps flex, tattoos waver under water, hair drips with water onto washboard abs… as always, I try not to drool.

Voyeuristic, sure, but hey, they’re all in swim shorts, from what I can see. It’s good, clean, family fun.

Unfortunately.

“I said we made out, not that we made out after they all did stripteases for me and got out their measuring tapes.”

The deep azure of the pool catches the sunlight and sparkles like stars, accentuating the chiseled bodies of Gavin and Gunnar, both waist-deep in the water. The sight releases a new wave of warmth between my legs.

“So what you’re telling me is that all those fine pieces of Hammer meat want you, and you’re turning them down?” she asks bluntly. “ All of them?”

“Well, yeah.”

I can hear Goldie wagging her head at me in the pause before she says, “You know, silly girl, it’s actually no surprise to me that you turned them all down. I know your doubt about whether or not you’re worthy of being… that is to say hammered by a Hammer, is rearing its nasty little head right now–”

“Golds, I just want love!”

Goldie laughs softly. “I know you do, babe. But you’ve always been so preoccupied by how the show’s audience sees you that you’re oblivious to the way all your boys watch you. You may have a hard–no pun intended–time believing it, but I would not be surprised at all if every single one of them wants to give you that love. All that hot, hot, hot love. ”

She drops it like it’s not an emotional bomb and then carries on cheerfully.

“If I were you, I would do it. And by ‘it’, I’m strictly referring to the Winnie’s Favorite Hammer but not-televised thing this time. No eliminations, obviously… but just because they can’t all have you doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have one of them. Go on, my big-hearted, vibrant, sexy-as-hell best friend. Make me sickeningly jealous by dating all of them, at least until you figure out which one is Mr. Perfect For You. Go get that happily ever after, girl.”

She says it like it’s easy. But what if they’re all Mr. Perfect For Me?

My attention is drawn to Gavin as his piercings catch a sunbeam.

The intricate celtic knot on Jack’s upper back wavers underwater as he tries to swim past Diesel.

Diesel grins as he splashes Jack, and my heart squeezes.

“I could never choose.”

“Yes, you could, dear naive little one. If you keep an open mind.”

I shake my head, even though she can’t see me. “It’s not my mind that’s the problem, Golds. It’s my heart. My heart wants them all.”

She snorts. “Wins. Despite what our industry–”

“Former industry,” I correct. “At least for me.”

“Despite what the reality television industry is selling us, you cannot be in love with multiple people at the same time. You just can’t. Eventually, you’ll discover for yourself that though you may love them all, you’re only really, and I mean truly, in love with one of them.”

She doesn’t have the same view right now as I have, clearly.

“We’re going to have to agree to disagree here.”

“Deal, but… I still say you’re nuts if you don’t go for it.”

“You’re not thinking through the consequences.”

“The only consequences I see are you having only very sore–”

“Good talk, Goldie. I have to go now!”

She laughs. “They make creams for that, though! GO FOR IT. Keep me up to date.”

Rolling my eyes, I head straight for the pool. I think over what I’m going to say to the guys as the breeze carries the faint scent of chlorine, mixing it with the hint of coconut. It’s a combo which brings back all the best memories from childhood summers and stirs up all the conflicting emotions within me again.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Axel calls from the side of the pool. “Want me to apply your sunscreen?”

He wears a happy smile and a flirty wink. Tears threaten suddenly, but I swallow them back as I shake my head.

“Hey everyone,” I call from the edge of the porch, unable to make it all the way over to them lest their faces and muscles change my mind. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

In a flash, all eyes are on me. Nine pairs lit up, eager, happy, waiting…

Shit, I have to swallow the tears back again .

“I’ve got to go,” I choke out. “Back to my cottage. For a while. I need time to sort some things out in my head.”

I swallow harder than ever but my throat is too dry.

“Babe. What’s wrong?” Gunnar calls. He’s in the water next to Gav, but he’s making his way out, and that’s the last thing I want.

“Nothing, I’m fine. I’m just going to drive up for the day. I need time–”

I break off when the tears win and pause to discreetly wipe my face.

“You all know how impossible this trip down memory lane is for me. This upcoming renovation, and being at Gram’s, it’s going to be too emotionally difficult. I know it. So, I can’t add any more upheaval in my life. I need you. I need us. Our team. But I need us without any romantic drama.”

“You have our word, Pooh Bear,” Gav says, his expression soft and earnest. “We’re friends first and foremost, you know that.”

I shake my head. “Not friends first and foremost. Friends, period.”

“Absolutely,” Gunnar jumps in. “We support you, no matter what. But… you will come back, right?”

“I said for the day, and I meant it. Just a little time to get my head on straight is all I need.”

“But–” one of the triplets protests.

“See you tomorrow!” I cut him off, turning back to the house to grab my keys, even though walking away–no, running away–feels so wrong. A part of me wants to yell at myself for doing something so stupid… but my father did enough of that to last me a lifetime.

And because I know my thoughts and emotions are too far from steady around my boys to make rational decisions, no matter what Goldie thinks, I do the only thing I can and that’s jump in my car, drive far from Smithville, fast as I can, and don’t look back.