Something about my delivery does the opposite of convincing her.
“You are!” Tears flood her eyes, but she doesn’t look like she’s about to sob. She looks furious.
Damn, she’s sexy as hell with wisps of hair flirting around her face as she leans toward me like she might attack.
“No, Finley, it’s just?—”
She shakes her head and takes a step back. “If you don’t trust me, then you never should have brought me here, Alexander.” Then she spins around and hurries over to my sister.
Mallory loops her arm through Finley’s, then puts her free hand behind her back and flips me off again.
“Real mature, Mal,” I call after her.
Mallory jabs her finger as though she wants to stab me with it.
I watch them go after the group and I feel a sharp ache in my chest. For a moment, I wonder if the stress is going to do me in, but I’m too young for a heart attack and in too good of shape. It’s probably heartburn. I did eat two bowls of chili.
I rub my chest over my coat, watching Finley walk away, realizing the bounce is gone from her step.
You did that, you asshole.
The pain in my chest increases.
I didn’t mean to upset her. It’s not like I was forcing her to go home with me.
But you sure tried to guilt her into it.
Now is not the time for my conscience to start lecturing.
I turn around to walk back to the car, because every second I stand here watching the most generous person I’ve ever met lose her joy makes my guilt bigger.
Pushing out a sigh, I realize I have a new dilemma. I can either walk the mile home or beg my dad for a ride. Neither sounds great, so I pull up my rideshare app, then promptly close it when I see the nearest driver is thirty-five minutes away. There’s a chance Mom, Mal, and Finley will beat me home, so I suck it up and call my dad.
I’m not thrilled when Tyler answers.
“You ready to come home, little boy?” he drawls in a baby voice.
“I called Dad, not you.”
“He saw your name on the screen, and I eagerly volunteered to answer.” His smug tone is like sandpaper on a sunburn.
“Lucky me.”
“I’ll say. I’m guessing you need a ride?”
I want to tell him to give the phone to Dad so I can ask him for a ride, but I know Tyler will just volunteer to do it himself anyway. “Yes,” I say, my voice tight. “I need a ride.”
“Remember stranger danger, little boy,” he says in his mock-serious baby voice. “Your big brother will be there in a few minutes.”
“You don’t even know where I am,” I grunt.
“The town’s not that big. I’ll pick you up at the park bench by the Santa statue.”
He hangs up before I can call him a few choice names, then I shove the phone back into my pocket.
Coming home was a mistake, but it’s too late now. I’m here. I need to make the best of it.
Ten minutes later, I see the Wagoneer pull up to the curb. I walk over, steeling myself for the roast Tyler’s been saving up.
