Not My Kind of Hero

by Pippa Grant

Why is my heart in my throat, and why do I want to grab her and hug her too and make sure she’s okay? Because we’re friends, I answer myself. My dick snorts in utter amusement at the bald-faced lie.

“That’s not a very auspicious start,” Maisey’s mom murmurs. “But I suppose if—” “Don’t start, Grandma,” Junie says while Maisey peppers my face with kisses. “He’s gonna be the one helping Mom pick your nursing home in a few years.”