Chapter 15 #2
But I remembered. I wasn’t too drunk.
Not that the cops believed me.
Why would they? It’s the rules. Your family’s standing in the community makes a difference in how you’re treated and how much you’re believed, and Chandler’s family brewed the juice that made Snaggletooth Creek run, while my family collected roadkill for taxidermy during the lean times when hunters weren’t bringing in deer and elk and bears and lions.
Didn’t break my heart when Emma and Chandler split up not long after they went back to their respective colleges after that winter break.
And jail wasn’t so bad.
Did me a favor in the end, honestly.
Still would’ve preferred if Emma hadn’t gotten right back together with Chandler when they both moved home after college though.
The woman glances between us, one of her eyes crinkling a little more than the other.
Or maybe it’s a trick of the lamps.
“I—I must be thinking of someone else,” she finally says in her thick twangy accent. “Thank you for your time.”
“Enjoy your night,” I call after her rapidly retreating backside.
Not the first time Chandler’s cock-blocked me.
Don’t mind being cock-blocked, truth be told.
Not really interested in the Southern single mom.
My dick’s too hung up on someone else .
But I do care that Chandler’s rounding on me and glaring like I’m the problem.
I know I’m not the problem, and if he thinks he can channel making me feel like a high school fuckup, he’s dead wrong.
“What did you hear?” he growls.
Okay, tries to growl. Dude’s got a weak growl. Goes higher-pitched than he means to. It hasn’t worked on me since about fifth grade, when I asked him if the llama from The Emperor’s New Groove was his daddy.
Got suspended for fighting after that. Chandler got a lollipop and a broken nose and the gift of everyone’s amnesia about him starting it.
I let it go because it was easier than holding a grudge. “Heard the pretty lady flirting with me.”
“Before that.”
“Ocean. Night bugs. Music. Tourists.”
He keeps staring at me like he’s trying to decide if I’m fucking with him.
I rock back on my heels and give him the what? look.
“You better be as dumb as you pretend to be.” He’s going for the growl again. And I’m wondering just how big his dick must be for my very intelligent sister to truly want to marry this guy. “If you repeat a single fucking word, I’ll destroy you.”
Yep.
This is what my sister wants to marry. A guy who doesn’t want me at his wedding but knows he can’t object because that would make his bride unhappy. “Sure Em would love that,” I say.
His face twitches.
I nod to him. “Better get back to my babysitter. Have fun being you.”
I walk away without reminding him who’s paying the bills here. No point in it, and he’d take the opportunity to remind me he could spill my biggest secret.
That one’s mine to leak on my terms.
Not because I’m embarrassed.
But because I know other people will be. They’d think I need to be saved from it. That there’s something wrong with how I choose to make a difference in the world.
Chandler follows me to my room.
I pretend I don’t know he’s behind me.
For Emma’s sake.
It’s always for Emma’s sake. She’s the one who’d come to my bedroom door every single time I stepped in major shit while we were growing up, knock softly and whisper, “I know it wasn’t all your fault, Theo, and I still love you, and you’re still the best brother in the world.”
Therefore, I will do anything for her.
I can’t count the number of times she told me she knew it wasn’t my fault.
Especially after Mom died.
I know she knows all the shit with Chandler isn’t entirely my fault. And I know she’s allowed to love a guy who will never be my best friend.
So long as he truly makes her happy in every other aspect of her life, who am I to object?
The minute I’m inside my suite, I pull out my phone. Delaney would say I need to call the rental car company and get paperwork started, but I have other things I want—and need—to do.
I don’t call anyone. Instead, I text Emma.
Gotta work tomorrow morning. You can have Delaney back for a few hours . Overnight, even. Won’t leave my room. Promise.
I don’t expect an immediate text back, but there it is.
Um…speaking of…we’re headed your way. Laney’s a little…
happy…and would like to go to bed. In her bed.
She keeps saying you have something that will make it all better but that she’s not telling what since she can keep secrets too.
And this is NOT me asking if what you have that will make her feel better is any part of your body.
She doesn’t threaten to disembowel me if I use my penis to make Laney feel better.
But she wouldn’t.
We have a deal.
We don’t interfere with each other’s private lives unless we think it’s a toxic situation.
I still know better than to take this as permission. Especially this week.
Got it , I text back.
I’ll take her for breakfast so you can work tomorrow , Em adds.
I glance at the pullout bed, still stuck halfway out because I’m tipping maintenance to stay away.
Not that I think it’s necessary.
Haven’t seen housekeeping in the time we’ve been here. Gift shop was closed right before dinner, despite the posted hours saying it would be open until eight. Heard a rumor the restaurants aren’t running well.
Seems Emma picked a falling-down resort for her wedding.
But if she’s happy, I’m happy.
Happy as can be with Laney heading back my way though.
Good thing she’s drunk.
I don’t freaking touch drunk women.
Hopefully she’ll pass out quickly. And snore. And drool. And maybe puke.
Not because I wish puking on her, but because it might make her less attractive.
I wince.
Let’s be honest. It probably wouldn’t.
It would probably make her even more real and relatable. And that’s something I’ll just have to deal with.