I hesitate, my brothers’ protests in the background barely registering. I’ve heard this song so many times it’s practically white noise, but I’ve never really let them see the toll it takes on me. Maybe it’s time to stop protecting them from that too.
“I don’t care,” I cut into the middle of Sam’s long-winded whining about how he won’t be able to get his workout in today. “This is my timeaway. All I’ve done is deal with thisbullshit. You two need to grow up and stop expecting me to fix everything. You’re not kids anymore.”
Wes gives me an encouraging smile and squeezes my hand. I suck in a breath, waiting for the next volley of excuses. Instead, the line is so silent I swear I can hear the sound of my own pulse hammering away.
“You’re better at dealing with Mom,” Sam says eventually, though for once it’s contrite. “She doesn’t listen to me.”
“Because she knows we’ll just let Sloane deal with it,” Eric says with a sigh. “A buddy of mine works for his dad’s landscaping business. I can probably get him to go mow the lawn for a six-pack, but I’m not dealing with the HOA lady.”
“Thank you.” I take another breath, glance at Wes, and then add, “Sam, you’re going to be a lawyer soon. Talking to Sharon will be great negotiation practice.”
“Fine,” he says sullenly. “I can try, but no promises.”
I blink, stunned. My brothers might be mad about it, but unless they’re completely full of shit—not their usual style—Wes’s suggestion may actually work.
“Please text me updates. I’m not sure what kind of service I’ll have today.”
“Yeah, yeah. Be careful,” Eric grumbles before adding a begrudging “Love you.”
“Don’t end up in Oz or whatever,” Sam adds, still sulky, but with his own “Love you.”
“Love you too. Tell Mom I’m fine.”
I hang up with a relieved sigh and let myself sink against Wes. “I can’t believe that worked,” I mumble into his chest, suddenly exhausted by the conversation. “I just hope they actually do what they say they will.”
Wes kisses my temple and squeezes me a little closer. “Watching you stand up for yourself was kinda hot.”
Pushing myself upright, I shake my head and shove his shoulder. “Please do not mentionhotand my brothers so close together. Gross,” I say with a fake gag, but I get what he’s doing and appreciate it.
“Fair enough.” He ducks down again so his lips are close to my ear. “I want to hear more about you talking to your brothers about me anyway.”
“Bitching,” I correct, suppressing a shiver at his low words. “Leave it to you to take that as a compliment.”
Neither one of us mentions that Sam called Wes my boyfriend.
“You were thinking about me,” Wes says with smug satisfaction before smacking a loud kiss against my cheek. “Go get your sweet ass in the shower while I work on finding breakfast.”
Chapter Seventeen
There’s a lot of waitingaround that comes with storm chasing. Most of the time, it works out that we can while away the hours at a truck stop or gas station. Having access to running water is a definite preference, but sometimes the forecast has other plans.
Halfway down a dirt road, I kill the engine after lowering all four windows and let out a content sigh. We’re surrounded by lush green fields, not another soul in sight for miles. That will change if the storm follows the path we think it will, but for now, it’s just the rustle of the wind in the wheat and the scent of baked earth.
I grab my phone for a quick radar check and then swipe into my text notifications. To my amazement, Eric sent a photo of Mom’s freshly mowed lawn about an hour ago. Sam must have also dealt with the HOA fine, because the only other texts from my mom are a series of complaints about how nice it is thatsomeof her children care about her.
I roll my eyes and don’t bother replying.
“Your brothers take care of the lawn?”
Locking my phone, I drop it into a cupholder and turn to Wes with a nod. “Shockingly, yeah, they did.” I lean back into the seat and let my eyes fall shut as the breeze tickles my skin through the open window. “Frisbee before I fall asleep?” I ask with a yawn.
“I have a better idea.” He waggles his brows before releasing his seat belt and reaching for mine. “When’s the last time you made out in a car?”
“Other than the last couple of weeks?” I laugh, unable to help a roll of my eyes as he brings my palm to his mouth and presses an open-mouthed kiss there. “Probably when I was fifteen.”
“A couple of kisses do not a make-out make.” Wes sinks his teeth into the fleshy bit of my palm, not hard enough to hurt, but the pressure shivers through me. “Just say the word, darlin’, and I’ll show you exactly what I mean.”
“You can’t be serious.”
