And now it’s like there’s a giant fucking canyon between us and our little brother.
We’ve been to a few games, seen him at holidays, but it’s nothing like it used to be. Our visits are like hanging out with a long-distance friend—you know each other from a bond forged back in the day, and now that old bond is the only thing still linking you together. Anson treats him like a black sheep, mostly because he hasn’t given Lala the attention a big brother should. Meanwhile, I spend the whole time hoping this is temporary—hoping he gets his shit figured out, while knowing any attempts to give him advice will shove him further away.
A gaggle of high-pitched laughter sounds outside the warehouse, loud enough to be heard over the oyster packing in front of me. My watch tells me Amanda’s tour just finished up.
I scoot my chair back a touch so I’m fully concealed from the entrance by a stack of crates. Call me a coward, but the last thing I want to deal with is that swarm of feral forty-year-olds. I’m not a tiger, and this isn’t a fucking petting zoo.
Alarm punches through me when someone appears around the crates, but it’s replaced by warmth when I register who it is.
“You owe me a thank you,” Eliza says, sidling up to the card table where I’m working.
From her pressed khaki shorts to the glossy hair brushing her chest, you’d think I dreamt up this morning’s events.
Relief sinks in. I don’t know what I’d do with more tears. Hers had churned my stomach.
“What do I owe you a thank you for?” I ask.
My folded sweatshirt in her hands, she drapes her forearms on a chair back and leans on it. I wonder if she realizes the neckline of her fitted white tee dips a little, teasing me with the smooth curves of her chest. “Those women out therereallywanted to say hello to you, but I told them you were gone for the day.”
Folding my arms, I lean back in my chair, working to keep my eyes on her face. “Now, why would you spare me like that?”
“You gave me your sweatshirt this morning.” She hands me the folded fabric, then straightens, hugging her own arms across her chest. The posture is protective. Like she’s trying to defend her earlier vulnerability.
I don’t think she even realizes she’s doing it. And I don’t like it one bit.
Not on a woman who’s such a constant force.
So I don’t tease her, instead closing my binder and shoving to my feet. “You ready to go?”
Her eyes float down to my work. “I don’t want to interrupt.”
There it is again. That professional consideration I never gave her credit for in the beginning. Turns out she has it to a fault, and right now, it’s rubbing me the wrong way.
“In case some water got in your ears earlier,” I start, coming around the table, “taking you out is part of my new schedule for the day. You aren’t interrupting anything.”
For once, she doesn’t argue back.
“Meet me down at the dock. I’ve got to grab a few things before we head out. And before I dothat, I need to make sure the coast is clear.”
The side of her mouth lifts. “They’re just women, you know.”
“Exactly,” I say. “Terrifying. And you’re here every day to remind me of it.”
Her grin widens, and the warmth in my chest spreads even more.
“Isn’t the farm that way?”Eliza’s hair whips around her face as she raises her voice over the engine.
“Sure is,” I yell back.
“Then where are we going?”
I eye the sandy cove in the distance. “You’ll see.”
Planner that she is, Eliza doesn’t accept that level of mystery. A second later, she’s standing beside me, one hand braced on the console as we speed along. “We have that sorting demo to do.”
“I had Amanda and Kenny film it this afternoon.” I peek over, watching her lips part in surprise. “Figured they were already out there doing the work. Just took them a few minutes to add a phone to the equation.”
Her mouth closes, then opens again. “Why would you do that?” Her shoulder nudges into mine as we skim across the textured pond.
