12 MARENThe morning of the fundraiser, I wake up with butterflies in my belly. It’s half excitement, half nervous energy, and my stomach churns because I need tonight to go well.
I reflexively reach for my phone, scrolling through my social media feed in an effort to quiet my mind. Immediately, I land on a photo of Wolfie and Hayes at the beach last weekend, drenched in lake water and sunlight. My brother, ever the stoic one, is frowning. But the huge, genuine smile on Hayes’s face makes my heart swell with emotion.
What happened at the lake house was . . . surreal. Ever since, I’ve spent every night tossing and turning between vivid memories and hazy dreams of Hayes’s lips on my skin, his tongue tracing sensual lines down my body, worshipping my most sensitive spots. When I close my eye
