After a few minutes of silence, I look up at AJ, finding regret and discomfort written across his face. “She a good kisser?”
AJ lowers his voice to a whisper. “You haven’t kissed her yet? I mean, I thought you guys were fucking like bunnies over here every night.” His words send a gnarling pain into my stomach. I haven’t kissed or done anything more than that with any woman besides Ellie. Crossing that line is something I’ve been thinking about, even obsessing over, but I haven’t been able to make that move yet.
“No, we’re just friends,” I remind him.
“If she were just your friend, you wouldn’t have stormed out of the house for two hours.” He’s right. “Where the hell did you go anyway?”
“The gardens.”
“Oh,” he says, understanding.
“Look, if you want my opinion, get your ass across the street and give that girl the kiss she’s been dreaming of—the one I’m pretty sure you’ve been thinking of, too.”
“I’m going to go talk to her, but I’m not going over there to compare spit swap stories,” I respond.
“Well, you should,” he quips.
I groan as I stand up from my seat. “I love how you boys talk your problems out,” Mom says, walking out from around the corner with her hands placed over her heart. “That was just beautiful. It makes me so proud to know I have raised two respectable men.” I want to roll my eyes and tell her to knock it off, but the woman is on the brink of tears. “Go ahead, Hunter, go talk to Charlotte. I’ll take care of Olive.” I take a few steps down toward the TV room and find Olive asleep, tucked under Dad’s arm on the couch. Dad’s asleep too.
“I think Dad and Olive are taking care of each other,” I laugh quietly.
“Well then, I’ll just keep cleaning,” she says. “And AJ, please go find Alexa. You have some explaining to do.”
At thirty and twenty-eight years old, AJ and I are still under this woman’s power. Never, have we ever been able to say no to her.
I grab my coat from the living room couch and slip it on as I head out the door. I cross the street and hesitate for a brief second before I knock. What am I going to say?
Before I have the chance to knock or figure out what those words are going to be, Lana opens the door. “Hi, Mr. Cole,” she says. Her lips are bowed into a slight scowl and I hope I’m not the cause for the look on her face. I don’t think my reaction was totally unwarranted but maybe I could have made less of a scene. No. I didn’t do this. Everyone should have been honest with me, but they weren’t. Charlotte wasn’t, and AJ sure as hell wasn’t.
“Is your mom home?” I ask her.
“Yes, but she’s kind of upset,” Lana says, looking away from me and down toward the ground.
“Can I come in and talk to her?” I continue.
“Well—“
“Lana, is someone at the door?” I hear Charlotte shout from the other room.
“Yes, it’s Mr. Cole,” Lana replies.
A thud in the kitchen tells me Charlotte just dropped something in the sink, probably out of surprise that I’m here. She turns the corner, wiping her hands off on the side of her legs. “Hunter,” she says, rushing to the door. “I can explain everything.”
“AJ already has,” I say, taking a couple of steps inside.
“I should have told you,” she continues.
“Yes, you should have,” I confirm. While I want to let it all go, I can’t just forget about the fact that they were both keeping this from me. “Why didn’t you?” I ask.
I take a seat on her couch, falling into the plush cushion. It’s one of those couches that has a wide seat, making it so you either fall into it completely to relax or you sit awkwardly on the edge, hoping not to sink so far in that you lose your balance. I’ve lost my balance and I’m trying to save face by leaning back into it casually. Good thing I’ve got long legs.
She sits down on her coffee table, only a couple of feet away from the end of my knees. “I,” is all she gets out before she sighs. “I don’t have a good reason. I realized AJ was your brother the first day we met and I didn’t exactly know a good way to tell you that story. Then as our friendship grew, it got harder and harder to bring it up because I figured I should have already brought it up. It has been weighing heavily on my mind since the day...”
“What day?” I cut her off mid-thought.
She breaks her focus away from my face, like she typically does when she’s ashamed to tell me something. Except I’m not sure what she would be ashamed of this time. “The day I realized I was falling for you,” she says softly, so softly I’m not sure I heard her correctly.
“What was that?” I ask, needing her to repeat it.
