Pissed AF Bonus Chapters

BEN

The broom is leaning against the doorframe where I left it this morning.

"I'm worried you have bad taste," Athena says.

"I have excellent taste."

"It's so ugly, though.”

"It's perfect. You can't have Christmas without one."

She looks at me like I've lost my mind. Maybe I have. It's a cinnamon broom. Four dollars. Smells like a Yankee Candle store in July. I don't know why I'm digging in on this, but I am. And she's letting me, which might be the most generous thing Athena Morris has ever done.

"Fine," she says. "But it's gone by New Year's."

"Deal."

She shakes her head, but there's a smile she's trying to kill. I catch it before she does.

Eight days. That's how long I lasted after I gave her the keys to the beach house. Eight days before I drove through a storm, without a plan or speech, to get to her. Found her in my sweatshirt, watching lightning over the water.

Didn't ask if I could stay. Just laid down beside her.

Angry as I was, I'd rather be angry in the same room as Athena than at peace anywhere else. Two months later, nothing's changed.

The doorbell rings, and Athena sets down her wine.

"That'll be Ava and Grant," she says, already moving.

I'm helping Dad plate the roast when they walk in. The usual—coats taken, wine accepted, that particular warmth Athena saves for people she actually likes.

The woman—Ava—is striking in an effortless way, with the same sharp cheekbones as her sister, Sienna. Grant is leather jacket and work boots, bottle of something dark in hand.

Introductions happen with handshakes and polite smiles.

Then Ava looks at Athena.

Nothing obvious. A pause that lasts half a second too long.

I register it and move on.

She's probably just friendly.

* * *

Dinner flows easy. Good food and better drinks. Ava tells stories that have everyone laughing. Grant adds dry commentary. Normal family gathering stuff.

Except I keep noticing small things.

The way Ava watches Athena. Attentive. Focused in a way she isn't with anyone else.

When Athena gets up to grab something from the kitchen, Ava follows.

"Let me help."

I can hear them talking, low and easy. Then Ava says something, and Athena laughs—a real one, not the polite version.

Ava's whole face lights up.

I wait for Athena to create distance. To redirect. To do that thing she's done since college when someone gets too invested.

She doesn't.

I glance at Grant. He's refilling his wine, completely unbothered.

Maybe I'm imagining it.

* * *

After dinner, people scatter.

Dad corners Mara's date near the bookshelf, phone already out—pictures of Princess, guaranteed. The man nods politely, trapped but gracious about it. I make a mental note—Dad needs encouragement to date. Something that isn't his dog and his children's lives.

Mimi and Violet are huddled at the kitchen counter, heads bent close, voices low. Whatever they're planning looks furtive. Possibly illegal. Definitely none of my business.

Apollo's acquired a shadow. Eli trails him from the kitchen to the living room, mimicking his stance, his gestures, the way he holds his beer. When Apollo notices, he just grins and slings an arm around my kid's shoulders. Eli lights up like he's just been knighted.

I end up near the tree with Grant and my dad.

Dad reaches for his phone—I know exactly where this is going—when I cut in.

"Grant, Athena mentioned you work on motorcycles?"

"Own a few shops back home," Grant says. "Restoration, custom builds. No shops on the east coast yet, though. I'm looking into Atlanta."

"That's impressive," Dad says, leaning forward. "You still work on them yourself?"

"The wrench time's rarer than it used to be, but yeah." Grant swirls his whiskey. "You ride?"

"Used to. Had a Sportster. Sold it when Ben was born."

"Shame," Grant says. "You should get back out there."

Dad nods slowly. "Maybe I should."

This from the man who vetoed driving school because he didn't trust strangers with his children. Or anything that wasn't him, in a parking lot, teaching us himself.

"I could set you up," Grant continues. "Got a Heritage Classic that'd be perfect."

Dad's considering it. Actually considering it. He needs a dating app ASAP. Something that doesn't involve two wheels and asphalt at sixty miles an hour. Maybe a cruise.

The conversation shifts. Grant mentions supply chain issues. Dad nods along. Then I hear it from the other room—Ava's laugh, followed by her voice, "Athena, you're devastating. You know that, right?"

I look up.

So does Grant. He shakes his head. My dad just sips his drink.

Ava laughs again, and Athena smiles.

"Is Ava..." I start, then stop.

Grant sighs. "You're not imagining it, and yes, she is."

My dad chuckles. "Has been since she walked in."

I look at Grant. "And you're… cool with that?"

He shrugs.

That's it. No explanation. No elaboration.

What gets me isn't that Ava has a crush. It's that Athena's allowing it.

The Athena I know would've already erected a boundary. Would've given Ava the same polite-but-firm shutdown she gave that kid in college—the one who started the fan site. "Athena the Hero" or whatever the hell he'd called it.

She'd been mortified. Spent the better part of sophomore year dodging him in the quad.

But here? Now?

She's letting Ava orbit. Not just tolerating it—enjoying it.

I set down my glass. "Excuse me."

* * *

I try to corner Athena, but she's not having it. She pushes a bottle into my hands with instructions to refill glasses. Before I can respond, Ava appears at my elbow. "I'll do it."

Athena hands her another bottle. “Both of you, then. The Merlot needs air."

"But—"

"Thank you, love." She pats Ava's cheek, gives me a look that's half warning, half amusement, and walks away.

I look at Ava. Ava looks at me.

We head to the kitchen in silence.

"So," she says. "You and Athena."

"Yeah."

"How long?"

"Since I was eight. Give or take."

"I respect it." She's quiet for a beat, working the cork free with more focus than necessary. Then, "I'm going to tell you something, and I need you to not make it a thing."

"Okay."

"I'm a little bit in love with your girlfriend. Platonically. Mostly." She says it like she's commenting on the weather. "Grant knows. Athena knows. Have been since we met."

I stare at her.

“I know how that sounds. Even Grant says I need to dial it back.” She rolls her eyes. “But I wanted to be upfront. Transparency."

"I... don't know what to say to that."

"You don't have to say anything. I just needed you to know that I'm not a threat. I'm a fan."

"I see."

She picks up her bottle, ready to head back. “Let’s get those glasses filled.”

I grab my bottle too.

"For what it's worth," I say, "I get it. People fall a little bit in love with Athena. It's kind of her thing."

"Naturally."

"You're different to her, though. That much is obvious."

"That's nice of you to say." She smiles. "You're alright, Ben. Better than the last guy, at least."

"There was a last guy?"

"No. That's my point." She pats my arm. "So don't fuck it up."

Ava walks back toward the dining room, already calling out compliments about someone's dress.

I follow, trying to process what just happened.

From across the room, Athena catches my eye. There's a glint there—amusement, challenge.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

* * *

Later, through the window, I see them. The Morris kids silhouetted against the porch light—Athena at the railing, Apollo and Artemis shoulder to shoulder beside her, all facing the house across the street.

I grab Athena's coat and step outside.

The cold bites immediately. I drape it over her shoulders.

"You're going to freeze," I say.

She nods once. "I'm good."

Apollo checks his watch, murmurs something to Artemis. They head back inside together, the door closing softly behind them.

Athena stays put.

We're alone, facing the street.

I lean against the railing beside her. We're quiet, looking out at nothing in particular. The sky's clear. Stars bright. The kind of night where everything feels suspended.

"I remember the last time I stood with you outside that house." I tip my head to the house across the street, the for-sale sign long gone. "I rang your doorbell and told you to stop pretending."

"Grand'mère's the one who sent me out to you that night," she says.

"You never told me that."

"She asked if I wanted you. I nodded. Then she looked at me like I was stupid and said, ‘So take him.’”

"Like a hostage?" I tease.

"Like an hors d'oeuvre off a tray." Her eyes flick over to me. "Don't flatter yourself."

I smile, tip my head back to the sky, where Cassiopeia glows. "Guess I owe your grandmother more than I thought."

Her brow lifts. A question.

"Best thing anyone ever did for me," I say.

She's quiet for a second. Then, softer, "Don't make it weird."

I push off the railing. "Come for a drive with me."

She looks at me. "We have guests."

"They won't miss us."

"Ben—"

I go to the door, stick my head in. "Heading out for a bit."

Apollo raises his beer without looking. "Cool."

Mimi waves us off. "Take your time."

Dad doesn't even look up.

I turn back to Athena. "See? No one cares."

She shakes her head, but she's already setting down her wine. "Fine."

She steps past me, then stops. Reaches back.

Her fingers find mine.

Chapter 2

Ten minutes later, we're in my car, heading out of the neighborhood with the windows cracked and the radio playing something soft.

We pull up to the overlook where I first kissed her and told her she talked too much when she was nervous.

She still does.

The engine dies and she looks out the windshield. "Now this is familiar."

From the center console, I pull out the velvet box I've been carrying for weeks.

Her breath catches.

"Before you panic," I say, "it's not a ring… yet."

She laughs shakily. "Yet?"

"Yet. That's coming soon." I pause. "Figured you wouldn't want an engagement upstaged by the holidays."

"Obviously."

"I know my woman."

She grins, doesn't disagree.

I hand her the box. "Open it."

She does.

Slowly.

Inside, ruby earrings in Belle Époque settings—delicate gold filigree, stones deep as wine.

Her eyes fix on them.

"Ben..." Her voice is soft. "It's beautiful."

The ruby earrings were meant to match the necklace I was hunting down. I hadn't found it yet, but I was close. Just like the ring already waiting in my safe, Guinevere's necklace would find its way into Athena's hands.

She looks up at me. "I love it. Thank you."

"Not as thoughtful as your gift, but I'm glad you like it."

Earlier tonight, she'd pulled me aside and shown me what she'd built—an app mapping every significant moment we'd shared. Like constellations, she'd said. Our own personal star chart. Photos. Inside jokes. Timestamps of texts. The night I showed up at her door. The first time she let me stay. Every piece of us, catalogued and rendered in code.

It was the most Athena gift imaginable: meticulous, thoughtful and surprisingly romantic.

"That app is one of the best things anyone's ever given me."

"Good." She touches the jewelry. "Then we're even."

We smile at each other.

"Do we have time?" she asks.

"Enough."

We're scrambling into the back seat a second later.

The space is cramped but familiar. I help her out of her coat and toss it into the front. She's already unbuttoning her blouse.

I undo the last button, push it off her shoulders. Pull her close, kiss her collarbone, up her throat, claim her mouth.

She's reaching for my belt, but I catch her hands. "Slow down."

"We don't have time—"

"Says who?" I slide a hand up her thigh, under her skirt. She's already wet.

She bites her lip. "Bennett—"

"On top. I want to watch you."

Her pupils dilate. She shifts, straddles my lap, dress hiking up around her hips. I slide her panties to the side—pink lace.

"This for me?"

"No, it's for my non-asshole boyfriend." She grinds down. "But you'll do."

I laugh, then groan when she reaches between us and frees my dick from my slacks. She lines us up, starts to sink down—

I stop her. Hand firm on her hip.

"Slow."

"Ben—"

"I said slow."

Her eyes flash. Frustration. Want. That dangerous combination that makes her either fight me or fuck me harder.

Tonight, she chooses both.

She grinds against me, breathless. "You're being difficult."

"I'm savoring." I slide two fingers inside—not deep, just enough to make her gasp. “And you’re going to let me.”

"Ben, I swear—"

I curl my fingers and her body tightens. "Try again."

"Yes." She sucks in a breath. "Please."

Better.

I pull my hand back and let her sink down—all the way until she's seated fully in my lap, trembling. She moans, low and unguarded.

I grip her hips, hold her still, just feeling her. Tight and warm and perfect.

"Move," she breathes.

"Not yet."

"Bennett—"

"Stay still."

She tries to move anyway. I tighten my grip.

"I want every second. I want you aching."

I drag her hips back and forth, slow grind, thick and steady inside her. Talking her through it—filthy praise between clenched teeth.

"Look at you," I rasp. "Trying so hard to behave."

"You're an asshole."

"I know." I bite the curve of her neck. "But you like it."

She does. I can feel it in the way she clenches around me. The hitch in her breath.

I smile.

She lasts another thirty seconds. The slow drag of her feels insane.

Then her hand wraps around my throat.

Firm. Commanding.

"I said," she pants, "enough."

And then she takes it.

Bounces hard. Fast. Skin slapping. Windows fogging. Her thighs slam down on my hips as she drives me deep, over and over.

I groan. "Fuck, baby—"

"Yes," she moans.

I watch her. Every shift. Every gasp. Every moment she forgets to be perfect.

"Ben—I'm—"

"I know. Let me feel it."

She comes hard, trembling, my name breaking on her lips like a confession.

I thrust up into her once, twice, and follow her over, pulling her down as deep as she'll go.

We stay like that. Chest to chest. Sweat-slick. Shaking.

The windows have misted over completely.

She rests her forehead against mine. "We're too old for this."

"Speak for yourself."

She laughs. Exhausted. Satisfied. "Your car smells like sex."

"Wonder why." I kiss her temple.

She shifts, still in my lap, and I'm not ready to let her go yet. I wrap my arms around her, hold her close.

Outside, the world is fogged glass and silence. Inside, we're still catching our breath. I've lost track of how long we've been out here.

"Ava told me she's in love with you," I say quietly.

Athena's mouth curves against my neck. "Did she?"

"You're fine with that?"

"Obviously. What did she say?"

"That I must be special because you don't date."

"You are special."

"Athena." I pull back enough to see her face. "You were encouraging her tonight."

"Was I?"

"You know you were."

"Fine." She shifts in my lap. "Maybe I was playing along a little."

"Why?"

“Ava doesn't want anything from me, Ben. She just likes me. She's genuinely happy I exist."

I watch her face in the dim light. "And that's rare?"

"For me? Yes." Athena’s voice softens. "She says exactly what she's thinking and people still love her. No one punishes her for being messy. Watching Ava exist without apology feels like glimpsing who I might have been in another life."

"I love who you are in this life.”

"Me too." She touches my jaw. "People are complicated. Sometimes I find it flattering. Sometimes I lean into it because chaos is fun, and watching you try to decide if you should be jealous is entertaining. And sometimes—" Her voice drops. "Sometimes it's just nice to be admired without expectation or demand."

"I see you."

"I know." She leans in, kisses me softly. "That's different."

We sit there for another moment, breathing together in the cramped space.

"We should get back," she says finally. "Before your Dad puts a downpayment on a Harley.”

"Or before Ava starts missing you?"

She laughs, climbs off me carefully, fixing her clothes with as much dignity as possible in a backseat. I do the same, watching her the whole time.

She catches me staring. "What?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

A second later she's back in my arms.

Somewhere down the hill, the house is still full of people.

We don't rush back.