I hate to admit it, but I do care about the bastard, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t piss me off every damn day.
Find a woman?
He needs to mind his own damn business.
8
Ford
Harper and Kit are waiting on the porch when I pull up to the house, both perched on the steps.
Harper sits to the right with her knees drawn up, forearms resting over them, and her phone clutched between her hands as she giggles at whatever’s on the screen. Strands of auburn hair have slipped loose from her braid, messy as always. She’s probably been out trekking through the fields already this morning, never one for staying still too long. She’s certainly not a girly girl, never has been, and I doubt that’ll ever change. Always looking for her next adventure—something physical to do.
Kit sits to the side, a few steps higher. His rucksack is wedged between his knees as he fidgets with the strings on the zips, fingers working restlessly. His gaze flicks towards Harper every few seconds.
I slow the truck. What’s up with him?
Harper laughs again, bright and carefree, and that’s when I catch it … the subtle shift in Kit’s shoulders, the way he stiffens, like the sound pulled something tight in his chest.
Oh.
I grimace.
So that’s what the hair wax is all about.
I suppose I don’t blame him though. Harper’s kind, fun, easy to love. She’s got one of those personalities that lights up a whole room. The kind that’s impossible to ignore. No matter how bad the day’s been, she always finds a way to pull a grin out of you.
But … she’s my baby sister.
Sure, she’s seventeen, practically grown, but that’s beside the point.
I like Kit. He’s a good kid, hardworking, dependable, always showing up when he says he will. I trust him, and I’d vouch for him any day. But Kit and Harper? Yeah. I don’t know if I like that.
Does she know? Doubt it. By the looks of it, I’d wager no. There doesn’t seem to be anything between them, at least not yet. They’re not even sitting together and judging by how Kit’s suddenly started making an effort this morning, I’d say he’s only just figured it out himself.
They’ve always been good friends, sure. Hung out now and then outside of school. But their social circles don’t mix, and the second they step foot in school, they go their separate ways. Still. I’m going to have to keep my eyes on this.
Kit notices me first. He stiffens, looking all kinds of sheepish.Yeah, you look guilty, kid. Don’t act like I didn’t just catch you making heart eyes at my baby sister.He jumps up, too quickly and too obviously, startling Harper in the process. She glances up, confused for a second, before spotting my truck rolling to a stop. I wind the window down.
“Come on then, kids.”
My voice cuts through the low rumble of the engine, and they both head towards me. Kit yanks open the trunk, tossing his bike in with practised ease before climbing into the back seat beside Harper.
Buddy pokes his head through the gap between the seats, sniffing the air before nudging Harper’s knee. She grins, scratching behind his ears before turning back to whatever’s on her phone. "You do know we’re not kids anymore," she says, eyes not leaving the screen. "And we’re perfectly capable of getting to school on our own."
"I know," I tell her, shifting the truck into reverse. "But as your big brother, it’s my job to make you look uncool in front of your friends."
She gives me an affronted look, and Kit huffs out a laugh under his breath.
I pull down the drive, gravel crunching under the tires as we head toward the main road.
“I’m your older brother. That means I’m taking you. Keeps you out of trouble, or, knowing you, stops you from running off on some adventure and forgetting school altogether."
Harper sighs dramatically, her phone resting against her lap.
"Ford," she says, softer now. "I know you've been on this whole ‘I’m responsible’ thing since Dad died, but really … we’re okay. We can …"
"End of conversation."
