“No, God, no,” I assure her. “I don’t do relationships. I’m not that guy.”
“Thank fuck,” she breathes out, turning on one foot just as quickly to face me once more.
Not the usual reaction. Usually I get a pout, with soft eyes that sayI can change him. Should I be hurt that she doesn’t want more?
“Not that you don’t deserve someone,” she hurries to clarify.
Not that you don’t deserve someone.
If my eyes could sting, they would. No one’s ever put it like that. Considered it might be something Iwant. Something I’ve longed for. Something I’ve never found, and all but given up on.
But this girl. This borderline stranger chosethosewords for me over any others.
She hurries to continue, “I’m just not a commitment girl myself.”
I believe those words about as much as I’d believe them about myself, but sure, I’ll play along.
“If I had crossed the line with somebody else’s…whatever, I would’ve had to shank myself. Girl code and all that.”
“No need to shank anyone tonight.”
I soothe her with my usual humorous thread through every word. It dies out though when I try to expand on my sorry excuse for an explanation.
“It’s complicated because of…family dynamics.” I choose the words carefully, but she still nods like she gets it. “Not because I don’t want you.”
“Your brother.”
“What are you, a detective? That why you’re so obsessed with true crime? It would explain that dark sense of humor of yours.”
She scoffs, shuffling her feet and rolling her eyes. “Your brother’s clearly got something going on where you’re concerned.”
Sharp. Winds me for just a second, actually. Most don’t seem to think twice about the comments Wyatt makes about me.
My tongue runs across my lower lip as I consider how to respond. How much is too much to tell someone you just met, especially when said person is relying on that same brother’s business to get back to her normal life.
“We’ve…had some differences over the years. He doesn’t appreciate the way I run my life, especially not where women are concerned. Wyatt made it pretty clear when I came back that I’mnot to start anything with any of the local girls and I’m not here to stir shit up with him.”
I know Amelia sees the depth behind my words, but bless her for keeping it light. “I’m not a local girl,” she says with a devilish quirk of her lips.
“Somehow I don’t think he’d see it that way.”
She sits down next to me on the bed and places a small hand on my knee, right overtop the dried paint on my pants, not seeming to care about the mess there, despite the pristine environment in her own van.
“I know I don’t know either of you for shit, but can I just say something?”
“Anything, darlin’.” It’s barely more than an exhale, she’s got me captivated with those eyes, that sweet face, and everything sinister it’s hiding. “Whatever you’ve got to say, hit me.”
“Sometimes the people who’ve known us the longest are the people who can’t drop their own opinions about us that hold us back. We all grow with time, and sometimes it’s hard for them to see who weareand not who we were. At some point, you’re going to have to move forward and live your life the way that’s right for you, with or without his permission. It’s not his life, Weston. It’s yours. And you seem perfectly capable of living it to me.”
Was that delivery supposed to punch me in the chest? So soft-spoken, so earnest, she slid right past those guards I usually keep up and socked me in something vital. I’m still reassessing my insides, trying to gauge if they’re all there when she opens that sweet mouth again.
“Oh, and for his sake, I hope he catches up and realizes what kind of man he has for a brother when you do.”
She’s too kind. Genuinely too kind. I reject it.
“How can you say that? You don’t even know me.”
Amelia pulls her hand back and uses it to run through her chin-length hair. “Maybe I don’t know how you take your coffee, or how old you were when you lost your virginity, or why you left town, but I know that in just a few encounters you’ve proven yourself to be one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.”
