Slow Grind (Men of Mornington Book 1) Read Online Free

poker.”
    Five best mates since primary school, and we’re all so uniquely different, I bet some wonder how we ever became friends in the first place. Sam is the alpha, Max is the protector, Nash is the roughneck—always in trouble for something—and Cam is the peacekeeper. Then there’s me, the joker of the group, though the guys might argue manslut is a more appropriate name for me. I’ve never been shy about my love for women, and lots of them. Separately, we’re successful and handsome, but together, we’re a powerhouse of badass, and so close—even after all these years—that when you mess with one of us, you get all of us. That goes for cancer, too.
    “Are you still fucking Darla?” Cameron asks, dealing out the first hand. Unlike Sam, Cameron is typically reserved. He’s not usually interested in who we’re sleeping with, who’s a good lay or even who has the best rack. Out of the five of us, he’s definitely the quietest.
    “As a matter of fact, I am, though I wish I wasn’t,” I say, tossing a fifty-dollar note into the center of the table. “The woman barely gets off my dick long enough for me to shower.”
    “Oh, poor baby,” Max interjects. “Fucking a beautiful woman must be so terrible,” he adds in his typical sarcasm.
    “I’ll take her off your hands if you’d like,” Nash jokes, tossing a few chips in the center of the table.
    “She’s all yours, mate. You’ll have to brush up on your handyman skills, though. She likes her appliances fixed before she takes the dick,” I grin. “Hey, maybe I can take back my fifty-dollar buy-in and put Darla on the table instead?”
    We laugh in unison and Max wins the first hand. Nash deals out the next, and the laughter, jokes and game continue well into the night, until everyone except Max is so pissed we end up crashing at Max’s place. I’m not even sure who won, but considering my pockets aren’t full of cash, it wasn’t me.
    At some point in the middle of the night, I pull myself off the couch and go into the kitchen to hydrate myself and find Max sitting on a barstool, staring off into the night.
    “What’s going on, dude?” I ask, pulling a bottle of water from the fridge.
    “She wants me to go back and stay at home.”
    “Who? Your mum?”
    “Yeah. She’s not taking no for an answer. And how can I keep ignoring the fact I’m not getting any better?”
    “It’s going to be okay, Max. You’re Superman.”
    “Well, Superman may have found his Kryptonite and it’s not the cancer. Her name is Rosalind Rosewood.”
    “It won’t be so bad. Aubrey’s coming, right?”
    “Yeah, she is, but I kind of wish she wasn’t. I miss her. I just don’t want her to see me like this,” he mutters, glancing down at his worn dressing gown. “And you know she’s going to fight with my mother. It’s not going to be easy.”
    “Well, I’ll be there every step of the way.”
    “Thanks, mate.”
    “Always.” I clap him on the back and head back to the couch. When I lie down, all I can think about is Max never getting better. I remember thinking about him dying when we were younger, but then the cancer went away. It has to go away again, right? He’s not even thirty, and we’ve barely lived.
    “There’ll be more time,” I reassure myself even though I’m not sure I believe it. “It’s going to be fine.”

Chapter Two
Aubrey
    “Excellent work, Aubrey. Very impressive,” the shrew that is my instructor points out as I rehearse for my final. I wipe a bead of sweat from my forehead and smile. Finally, I feel like I’m getting somewhere.
    This is by far my favourite class, even if it is the most punishing on my body. My dad’s only condition about paying for college was that I double major in dance and something else. I chose business. So, while the other dancers only had to worry about their final performance—which would also serve as an audition piece—I was studying my life away for the Econ final. Dad said I needed a