I step aside to let Lane by, watching him take in his home away from home. His face is priceless, and I’m pretty confident that I’ve aced my attempt at revenge.
“It’s…” He hesitates before lifting up a thick comforter.
“A hospital bed,” I finish for him. “That’s right. My mom wants to get rid of it, but my dad likes it too much.”
Lane looks appalled, and I snicker.
“She cleaned it all up, I promise. We got all the wet patches out. And look! There’s even a chamber pot here in the closet, in case you can’t be bothered to use the bathroom.”
“When did you say my flight back was?”
“The thirtieth. Same flight as me!”
“Great…”
“Oh, come on! You’ve won an all-expenses-paid trip to sunny Florida!”
“In a hospital bed that has definitely seen better days,” he says, scratching his face.
I lean against the wall and let out a heavy sigh. “Could you at least try to look happy? It’s Christmas, after all!”
He rolls his neck and stretches, glancing up at the ceiling before perching on the edge of the mattress. He pats the space next to him, and so I sit on his right, fingering the rip in my jeans, waiting for him to speak.
“Give me a sec to take all this in, okay? It’s kind of weird being here, with such an awesome family and everything.”
“You said you don’t know anything about me—but you don’t tell me much about yourself, either,” I say carefully.
And it’s true. When he’s not being moody, Lane can be supersweet. But he does keep mainly to himself. He’s almost secretive that way. I’m not the kind of girl who needs to know everything about everyone, but sometimes I’d like Lane to open up a little.
“My parents are nothing like yours. They’re cold. Repressed.”
I can’t take my eyes off his face. There’s a hard, stony set to his jaw. It’s taking a lot for him to tell me about them, I can see that, and I know I won’t get anything more out of him today. It kind of hurts that he doesn’t feel he can trust me enough to let me in. And then I remember what my mom once told me:“Trust isn’t something you earn, it has no checks or balances.”
“Mine can be real pains in the ass, you know.” I nudge him with my shoulder. “Last year, my dad insisted on coming with me for the campus tour, and he threatened everyone we ran into, telling them he was ex-police and would make life hell for anyone who messed with his baby. It’s his favorite lie, by the way—works every time.”
“Wait a minute: So your dad isn’t really a retired cop?”
“Oh jeez. So he used it on you, too? I told him to keep it in check.”
We burst out laughing, the mattress creaking under our weight.
Lane leans forward, plucking up a small box. “What’s this?”
“Grandpa’s emergency alarm. He would push that big red button and it would start beeping on the other side of the wall.”
He raises his eyebrows. “The alarm would go off in your room?”
“Yeah, because I was closest, and my grandpa liked to drive me crazy.” A thought suddenly occurs to me. “Give me that—I know what you’re like.”
I try to grab the alarm off him, but Lane is so much faster and bigger than me.
“This thing is a game changer.” He laughs, tucking the box into his pocket.
I roll my eyes. “Okay, I’ll let you get settled in, I’m gonna go help my mom. Head out to the yard with the guys when you’re done.”
He glances out the window. “A Christmas barbecue, huh?”
“What can I say? We’re anti-conformists.”
