Page 9 of Summer Brew

His words fall out of him like they’re natural, like they’re right. They make me go cold. I feel a muscle twitch next to my eye while my mouth goes dry.

Keaton’s eyebrows pull together slightly, like he’s unsure about my reaction. I force a smile onto my face, wide and bright even though it feels brittle. “Thanks,” my voice is bright, but wrong. “I knew you were the right person to come to.”

He tilts his head to the side slightly while studying me. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I brush him off. “Nothing is wrong at all. Why would it be? I came here for help, and you just agreed to help me. Seems like everything is right in the world as far as I’m concerned.”

His eyes narrow slightly and his lips part like he’s going to argue with me. I keep my composure, refusing to crack right now.

“I’m thinking you should come over and I can walk you through what I’ve done and where I’m having issues?” I throw the question out there before he can try to press me any further.

I tuck away the disappointment trying to drown me. I’ve always known he sees me like a little sister. Hearing him say it out loud shouldn’t hurt at all.

But it does.

Now is not the right time to dwell on it, there will be plenty of time later for a little pity party of one.

Even with the hesitation written all over his face, he starts to nod slowly. “I agree, then we can figure out where the problems are and make a plan to correct them.” He makes a vague gesture towards where the garage sits next to his house. “How about checking out my set-up? It might help.”

Everything in me is screaming to leave. I can only hold back the tears for so long, and right now I’m far closer to breaking than I would like to be.

You’re like a sister to me; all you have to do is ask.

I swallow hard, but it’s difficult to push down the lump in my throat.

The need to get out of here is clawing at me. I stand up quickly, my sudden movement startling Keaton as he looks at me with wide eyes.

“I don’t want to see it,” the words rip out of me with a harshness which makes me wince and I quickly add, “not yet anyway. How about you come over to my place this weekend? That way I won’t be intimidated by whatever you have going on, and I won’t be making mental comparisons.”

“Okay,” he forms the word slowly, as if he’s unsure whether I’m in my right mind or not.

He doesn’t need to know the truth and how his words sliced into me. The next few minutes are blur of us making plans before I rush out of his house with a half-hearted wave and a goodbye which feels just as forced as it sounds. But he doesn’t stop me.

I don’t know if it’s a good thing or not.

The moment I’m back in my car; I take a few deep breaths and force myself to not look at his house again. Even when I pull away from the curb, I hold all the fragmented pieces of me together. Just a little while longer.

It’s not until I’m safely ensconced in my own home that I break. I don’t even try to stop the tears.

You’re like a sister to me; all you have to do is ask.

His words echo in my skull for a long time, and I don’t even bother trying to wipe my tears away.

CHAPTER 4

KEATON

I’ve been anticipating today since Gemma left my place after asking me for help. Something has been nagging me since she walked away with a smile plastered on her face. Did she really think I wouldn’t know it was fake?

As much as I wanted to chase after her and find out exactly what made her change her entire attitude with me, I didn’t. I’ve been playing our conversation in my mind over and over, trying to find the moment when what felt natural began to crack.

I think it was when I told her she’s like a sister to me. Everything shifted the moment those words left my mouth while regret slammed into me. It’s been fucking years since I looked at Gemma like a sister.

Still, I said those words to her. She tried to hold her composure, but I watched my words land like shrapnel. I couldn’t exactly take them back even though I wished I could the moment I said them.

When I tried to get her to say something, admit it, or lay into me, she couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I’m not sure if the disappointment that she didn’t sass me about my flippantness was worse, or the sinking feeling of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time to the wrong person.

It’s been eating at me.