You can’t afford your mother’s dream home.
I swing.
You can’t afford for your mom to get sick again.
I swing.
You can’t afford to tell your brother the truth.
I swing again and again, fury and pain fueling my arms until my muscles shake from overuse and there’s a gaping hole with ragged edges revealing a room beyond. The hammer thunks to the floor, and I pant hard, my mask keeping the humid air tight against my face.
Disregarding the risk of squirrels searching for any vulnerability to storm our house, I stalk over to the window, heave it open, and rip off my protective coverings so I can suck in a lungful of fresh night air.
“Gotta say, that was impressive. I didn’t think you’d stop.”
I whip around to find Shawn in the doorway, shoulder leaning on the jamb, delighted smile on his cheery face.
“What are you doing here?” My voice is too harsh, but he doesn’t let it bother him.
“You weren’t picking up your phone, so I called George. He said you went home, and he sounded all mopey about it. I figured something went down, and I wanted to check on you.”
Damn it. That’s so fucking sweet. Because that’s Shawn. He can’thelp himself, and he definitely can’t help that I feel like a shitty sister every time I’m reminded of what a good guy he is.
“We got in a fight,” I admit. “I think I hurt his feelings. I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing to me?”
“Because he’s your best friend.”
“So?” Shawn shrugs. “He’s a big boy. And as long as you still want to be with him, he’ll get over it.” He nudges a splintered piece of wood with the toe of his shoe. “I mean, the guy has been in love with you for forever.”
Forever? “What?”
“You really did some damage to this wall.”
“Shawn, focus. What do you mean George has been in love with me for forever?”
My brother bobs his head like he’s weighing his words. “Okay, maybe not inlove. But crushing hard. Ever since that first night he met you. I guess he’s into girls who stealFor Salesigns.” He chuckles and steps forward to bump my shoulder with his, but I’m too befuddled to react. “Never understood why he didn’t make a move. He couldn’t during the marriage, of course. But even with that, he told me if you ever asked about him, I could tell you the truth. That’s when I knew he had it bad, because I was one of three people who knew what Elle and he were doing.”
This new knowledge swamps my brain.
It was George.
George was the long-haired guy who smelled like weed and drove a Scooby-Doo van. Reeling, I try to remember more of that encounter, but it’s a blur of grief. Still, now that Shawn has said it, I think I can see it. The steady hands on the steering wheel…the strong jaw on a stoic face…the overall calm presence that radiated from the driver’s seat.
Our first meeting wasn’t at the housewarming party; it was in thevan that George lived in for a stretch of time. He was the one who drove me to this house.
He watched me stalk across the overgrown yard and grab the sign. He heard me scream all my rage and pain at the sky. And he drove me back to the apartment Mom, Marge, and I shared as Shawn held me and I held that sign.
And apparently that was…attractive?
But he didn’t do anything. Didn’t ask Shawn for my number, or swing by the house he knew I was going to buy, or even tell me his name.
I mean, I know why George stayed away from me all this time. Because of my dad’s threat. But I thought he was just being a decent guy. Trying not to make waves.
But if Shawn has it right…George has wanted me all along.
And Karl Newton’s lie about cutting me off kept us apart.
