He quirked his brow. Obviously, I wasn’t explaining this well.
I scanned my mind for any metaphors that didn’t involve software upgrades or gaming lingo. He’d be more connected to the human element. I scooted closer to him and said, “For example, I’ll always love my brother for protecting me from the creeps in my robotics department. But he doesn’t need to be that guy anymore, and I’m doing okay on my own.” In most regards, despite his opinions about my social life. “I can appreciate what we had without longing for it enough to drag me down about what I have now.” I clasped his hand, my heart whirring with unease. Even if this was too intimate, I looked him in the eyes and said, “The way you make people feel is a gift. Whatever they do with it, I hope you know it’s…priceless.”
He squeezed my hand and sniffled, his eyes glassy, and his mouth ticked up for a hint of dimpled adorableness.
The fine hairs on my arms tingled to attention. Something pricked behind my eyes. I reached to push up my glasses, but they were on the side table, not my face, so I brushed an invisible speck off my cheek instead. “You’ll always have love, Sal. I hope it serves you well as you figure out how to build a life you can be proud of.”
He grinned in radiant adoration. That smile made people fall in love with him. I wanted to hug him. Or kiss. But that’d ruin it. So, I patted his hand and launched off the bed. “Anyway, I’m off for a snack.”
“Aw, don’t go now,” he called.
“I’ll be right back.” I waved him off and dashed to the kitchen. Running was the only rational reason my heart was racing. One meaningful conversation shouldn’t send me into a fit. I pressed my palm over my sternum and willed myself to breathe. Everything was fine. He’d leave if I asked him to. Or drive me to the emergency room. I brewed some sleepy thyme tea and paced until it was ready. The tea and a plate of crackers, fruit, and cheese would help settle this strange surge of anxiety. By the time I got back upstairs with the tray, Sal was sleeping. Peaceful. Pretty.
I sighed. It’d be mean to wake him up to send him to the couch. But this was such a waste of tea. I set it by his bedside, then managed my own snack while playing Craft Cove and watching the movie. Eventually, the tea, the white noise of the TV, and the warm breeze of Sal’s breathing lulled me to sleep.
It was dark. Cozy. Heavy. Something tickled my nose. I rubbed it and rolled over with a huff.
“Grumpy," Sal teased.
Whatever. I was half-asleep. Hell, I was probably dreaming.
The rumble of the garage door jump-started my brain.
Victor was coming.
We had to get dressed ASAP. But when I bolted upright and reached over to rouse Sal, he was gone. The bathroom was open. And dark. No notes on the dresser, no texts, just a half-drunk mug of tea.
My insides knotted horribly, and the tang of metal sparked up my throat. Anything could’ve happened while I was sleeping. A friend wouldn't just leave me.
25
Hidden
I put my glasses on, then pulled up the security camera footage on my phone. Victor parked on his side of the garage. In the wide shot, Sal’s car was still behind mine in the driveway.
So, he didn’t leave? My heart levitated at the prospect he was still here. I rolled out of bed and tripped on his pants.
Oh my god. His pants.
Sal was in my house without pants. And my brother just walked in. Talk about ‘decent.’
“Fuck,” I hissed, snatching up his clothes. “The one day he comes home early.”
I thundered to the living room. Empty. “Sal?” The tea kettle whistled, so I dashed into the sunlit kitchen, nearly colliding with my brother. “Oh, geez, watch where you’re going,” I said, my heart racing as I clutched Sal’s clothes.
Victor’s voice rumbling with morning gruff. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing," I said.
The tea kettle screeched.
My chest tightened, as did my grip. “Making tea,” I amended. Nonchalant. Breezy.
“And doing laundry?” He arched a brow at the crumpled clothes hugged to my breast.
“Yes.” I pushed past him to the laundry room between the kitchen and the garage.
“That's a small load. Are those pieces important?”
