Page 16 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Brother’s Best Friend

This time his response takes longer, and the wait kills me.

You push me away when I’m trying to help you. – Brian

My throat tightens. I want to argue, tell him that’s not true. Except there’s enough truth to it that I can’t bring myself to type the words.

Every time he shows up, I’m already embarrassed. Already angry with myself. And he’s right there with a front-row seat to whatever disaster I’ve created. Being mad at him is easier than admitting how much I hate him seeing me that way.

I wish I weren’t such a screw up. – Lynn

I know. – Brian

“Hey.” I roll my eyes and type.

You’re supposed to say I’m not a screw up. – Lynn

His reply comes almost immediately.

You screw up but you aren’t a screw up. – Brian

A laugh bursts out of me, wet and ridiculous, with tears clinging to my lashes. I wipe beneath my eyes with the heel of my hand. A smear of day-old mascara smudges my hand.

Doesn’t change what I think of you. – Brian

My breath catches.

What do you think of me? – Lynn

I wait. And wait.

Thought I was the one listening. – Brian

I laugh again and shake my head. He’s not going to make this easy for me. Then again, I’m not entirely sure I’m ready to hear his honest answer. Better by text than in person, though. At least he can’t see my humiliation this way.

We shouldn’t have taken things so far in the truck. – Lynn

The wait time is excruciating.

Probably not. – Brian

My stomach sinks. He regrets it. I wish I could take my text back and erase the entire conversation.

Shouldn’t have stopped either. – Brian

Heat rushes through me so quickly that I have to press my lips together to keep from smiling. Hope is a dangerous thing when it can be taken away in a heartbeat.

I lower the phone and let my head fall against the back of the sofa. The knot sitting in my chest doesn’t feel quite so heavy. We’re probably still going to argue. He’ll still drive me crazy. He’ll still show up on my worst days.

And maybe that’s the point. Showing up when we need each other.

I bring the phone back up and start clicking. My pulse thumps against my throat. I stare at the message for a hot minute before hitting send.

I said if I needed you, I’d ask. Well, I’m asking. – Lynn

The seconds crawl past, and nothing. I swallow and stare at the screen. Maybe I waited too long. Maybe after years of pushing him away, he finally decided to listen. Maybe—

The phone buzzes.

Open the door. – Brian