I just never do.
My other brother, Bryson, never reaches out, though I know he talks to them a bit more. After our brother, Brandon, died, something shifted between all of us, and we all chose to cope in our own ways. Mine was to isolate.
The sound of my phone ringing pulls me from my thoughts and away from the mirror, so I can stop seeing the image of my sister staring back at me. Part of me expects to see her name on my screen, as though I willed her into calling me, but instead it’s Lily’s name I see.
“Hello?” I answer because she never calls me. We have a group chat with Sutton and that’s her most common form of communication. I’m not a big phone talker, and I’m not the best texter.
“Hey, have you left to go to Sutton’s?”
“No, what’s up?”
“Can you give me a ride? My car is dead.”
“What do you mean dead?”
“I dunno, it won’t turn on. Will you just come get me? Pretty please?”
“Yeah, did you call a tow truck or anything?”
“Nah, that’s a later problem.”
I sigh, looking up at the ceiling, not liking that she’s going to be without a car. Everyone needs to have a way to leave if they need to. I don’t think she has any issues at home, but I can’t help my own thoughts of feeling trapped without a car.
Then I remember who I live next to and grimace.
“If I can get someone to help you out, would that be okay?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Her tone is so nonchalant I wonder howsomeone can be so calm about something going so wrong in their day.
“I’ll be over soon.”
We hang up, and I take in a deep breath before walking next door. I raise my fist to knock, but hesitate. I don’t think Lily would care if I didn’t follow through on the offer. But I don’t like how it would feel. She shouldn’t be stuck. I’m sure she’s going to need to get to work. And maybe go see Parker, even though she insists there’s nothing going on there.
I inwardly groan, knocking on Wes’s door. Rocking back on my heels, I feel like he’s taking forever. Maybe he’s not even home, but his car is in the driveway. I’m about to walk away and pretend like I never showed up, when the door swings open.
Wes is standing there looking more put together than I thought was possible. He’s in black slacks, a black button up, and his dark hair is styled…nicely. Not a hair out of place. The worst part is his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing his thick forearms, his veins are prominent and make my mouth water when it shouldn’t.
I hide any other response my body has to seeing him like this by narrowing my eyes in his direction and folding my arms across my chest. Which is clearly a mistake because the way his eyes drop down to my chest makes goosebumps break out across my skin. Everything is made so much worse because I know exactly what it feels like when he’s holding me down and doing whatever he wants to me.
“You know things about cars,” I blurt, because my mind needs something else to latch onto, that isn’t how good he looks, and how good I know he feels.
He smirks, his eyes moving back up to mine. “Sure, and you hate mine.”
“I do, but my friend is having some issues with hers. I was wondering if you would take a look at it.”
“I’m not a mechanic, but I can try.”
“Obviously not right now, you’re clearly about to go somewhere.”
“So are you, and I think it’s the same place.”
I choose to forget that he’s friends with my friends, but I know he’s right.
“Well, I have to go pick up Lily since her car is dead, but then I’m going to the party.”
“I’ll follow you there and take a look,” he says easily, almost too easily.
“No, you don’t have to do that,” I insist.
