“You can’t have that.”
Joyce’s voice cuts through the climax of my book, where they’ve finally caught the killer. I look up in time to see her with her hands on her hips, the particular pose she takes when her kids, no matter how old they are, are doing something they shouldn’t.
And Will is standing at the cooler with a beer in his hand.
“Mom—”
“You’re twenty years old.”
“It’s a family thing, nobody cares—”
“William Davis, you put that back right this instant.”
He puts it back with a sigh that I can see from here, a group of kids nearby chuckling at his expense.
I look back down at my book. Jess and I have been together since high school. I know her little brother more than I would like to sometimes, and I’m sure he feels the same way.
I’ve tried with him throughout the years. Spoken to him, asked about his work when he had it, his friends. Sometimes it’s fine, and sometimes it’s not. Sometimes, his distaste for me is so obvious it’s impossible to ignore, and I still don’t know what I ever did to deserve it.
One thing’s for sure, you never know which version of him you’re going to get, and it’s best to watch your back.
That’s the only reason I know that he’s in the pool now, and I didn’t read a word of the last page.
He’s at the far end, forearms on the concrete edge, talking to an uncle, and for once, he looks relaxed. We worry about him, where he’s going in life, if he’ll eventually find his purpose.
Frank got him on at the construction site this summer, and it shows. His pale skin has tanned, and freckles have started to bloom across his shoulders and the back of his neck. The sun has lightened his hair, and he’s gained some muscle.
He looks completely different from the stone-faced kid who barely leaves the house, other than to do things he shouldn’t.
When the food is ready and the man he’s talking to heads over to grab a plate, Will follows him out of the pool, bracing his hands on the concrete and pulling himself up in a fluid motion. He reaches for the towel left on a nearby chair and runs it over his face and hair.
I’m guessing.
That’s not where my eyes are.
His swimming trunks have ridden up, stopping mid-thigh, revealing pale skin that hasn’t tanned, leading up to where the red fabric clings to his—
He’s in good shape. That’s all. He’s been working a physically demanding job, and his body has changed. I’d notice it on anyone—
“Hot out,” Will says, from directly in front of me. His towel is around his neck, and he’s squinting down at me, water from the pool sliding down his toned stomach, catching on the waistband of his trunks.
“It is,” I agree, clearing my throat.
He nods at my shirt. “You’re gonna cook in that.”
“I’m fine.”
He tilts his head, looking me up and down, smirking in a way that makes me feel like my t-shirt and khaki shorts aren’tenoughclothes. “You look like a math teacher, dude.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” I defend, but I still close my book and set it to the side.
He smirks again, and I don’t know what that means, so I ignore it, watching him drop into the chair next to me. He stretches his legs out, turned toward the pool, putting all of that golden body on display, and I don’t know what happens to my mouth after that.
“You look good.” He turns to face me, his eyebrows climbing to his hairline. “I—I meant physically. You—” I stop before I dig myself into a hole I can’t get out of. “You look like you’re doing well.”
He stares at me, an unreadable expression on his face, teal eyes boring into mine. I shift in my chair, opening my mouth to say something else, but close it when his lips stretch into a smirk that I don’t trust.
“Oh, really?” He leans back in the chair, at ease in his own skin in a way I can’t help but be jealous of. “Well, thanks, doc, but I’m not sure how fair it is, you seeing all of me when you’re dressed like that.”
