12. Tyson
twelve
Tyson
Ham collected a random hacky sack from somewhere and tosses the knitted ball from hand to hand. “So, how’s this new celebrity team going?” He opens the front door more with his elbow and crosses the porch with me.
“Celebrity,” I echo with a forced chuckle. “Whatever, you say.”
“So, ah, this might seem out of the blue, but I was watching you watch her tonight.” He tosses the hacky sack one-handed and catches it, seeming to avoid looking at me. “Have you ever…told—”
“Nope.” I cut him off before he says anything. I can’t hear any words about Lottie and my feelings. It’s as if hearing them will make them even more real. I’m having a hard enough time ignoring them as is.
His lips part as he tilts his head and squints.
He focuses on me in a way that makes my cheeks burn, like he somehow read all my hidden thoughts about Lottie.
“Dude, I don’t understand it.” He swallows hard, almost as if he’s suppressing throwing up.
“I mean, she’s my sister, but maybe you should talk to her. ”
“I can’t.” I steel my jaw and take a step toward my car. This conversation is risky, and on the off chance I accidentally say something I shouldn’t, I’m ready to bolt. “She’s too perfect.”
A whip-loud chuckle cracks out of him, and I startle.
Is he mocking me? In my defense, I go off, “Maybe at one time I could have tried to say something. Things were easier years ago—especially when we were at the lake—but now your mom has this whole issue with hockey players, I need to stay away. This isn’t blowing over, and I wouldn’t want to put Lottie in a weird position.
Plus, my grandpa used to tell me something.
” I drop my gaze to the ground, knowing it’s cheesy, but I trust my late grandpa more than most people.
“He said, ‘If a woman likes you, she’ll let you know. Until then, it’s the gentlemanly thing to not push her. ’”
He blows out a breath as he tosses the hacky sack again.
“I think that advice might be a little outdated, but whatever.” I shrug and can’t reply before he rushes on, “You have to remember, my mom’s had Lottie in a bubble.
She doesn’t date—ever. She more than likely doesn’t know how to tell you she’s interested— if she even is.
But”—he arches his brow at me, tension building from the sharp angle—“it’s just, you know, you sort of look like you’re going to be ill. I hate seeing you like this.”
With my words frozen, I give him a I’m-clearly-in-pain-but-I’m-dealing-with-it shrug.
He seems to catch my drift and looks away. “Hey, do you have a few seconds to fix another gate? Toast is on your car.”
“What do you mean, Toast is on my car?” My eyes zero in on my car, a goat glares at me from the roof. “That’s not even my car! It’s a rental,” I grumble as I fly forward, waving my hands and yelling, “Shoo!”
“Look at it this way.” Ham laughs, moving forward to assist me. “If he punches a hole in it, you’ll have free air-conditioning.”
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.
” I grab the goat by the leg. He bleats loudly as I pull him down.
Since nothing in my life is ever easy, he fights back, showing me his ninja kicks.
Eventually, I get him on the ground, and then it’s like a switch is flipped—he trots off down the hill like he has no intention of ever going back in that pen.
I glare after him, shaking my head. “Why on earth does Lottie bother with these nuisances? There’s no way she likes all this trouble. ”
“Why do you love Lottie if you know you’ll never tell her?” His face is dead serious.
My chest caves, and I shoot back, “Why do you breathe if you know you’re going to die?”
“So, you admit it—you do love her.” Ham chuckles.
“Well.” I can’t say it out loud. My head starts to bob in a yes motion, but I’ll never be able to speak it.
I turn back to my rental and place a hand on my hip.
“I should leave before that goat comes back—or, you know, I have to look at Bodan with Lottie again …” My voice trails off as my gut tightens even further.
“See ya.” He’s almost taunting when he sidesteps, tossing the hacky sack in the air.
“It’s probably no use, but I’m going to try to fix the gate again.
” He slides two fingers into his mouth to whistle.
Miraculously, the goats round up and follow him down the hill.
I get in my rental and slowly back away, making sure not to accidentally hit one of the goats.
Even though, at this point, it’s a tad tempting.
I would never do that to Lottie.
Of course I wouldn’t.
A blur of something catches my eye in the rearview mirror.
Lottie is on the porch, giant tears streaming down her face.
And Bodan is nowhere around.
As much as I’m over this fake-dating orientation, I could never turn my back on Lottie crying.
My foot stomps on the brake.
My heart crawls into my throat.