Page 261 of Manhattan Bossholes

11

NATASHA

“Watch out for that pothole!”

“I see it,” I said, gritting my teeth as I steered the U-Haul around the hole, wincing until I was sure we’d cleared it. Every little bump in the road could be enough to make this thing combust. This particular U-Haul was a temperamental beast. Frankly, I had no idea how we’d made it this far without breaking down, but I never wanted to drive anything like it again. “I don’t know why you agreed to rent this hunk of junk.”

“The guy told me it was fine!” Trent said for the fifth time since we’d set off. I’d been complaining about it a lot. “And I was under a little bit of a time crunch.”

“You could have rescheduled the drop-off with me.”

“You’d already spent half your weekend waiting around.”

“I just don’t understand how you even got it out of the parking lot,” I said.

“With some finesse and a prayer.”

“I hope you got liability insurance.” He snorted. I glanced over at him. Oh, right. The guy could buy an entire fleet of U-Hauls if he wanted. Actually, he’d probably thank me for running this one off the road. “Which dorm is Jimmy’s again?”

“Whitman College.” Trent gestured ahead of us. “Southwest side of campus. Look for Elm Drive.”

“Right,” I said. This campus was freaking huge, but luckily Trent had been here before to drop Jimmy off, so he knew exactly where he was going.

“That’s it there,” he said, pointing out a residential complex designed in that signature collegiate Gothic style—a style I adored. It was all arched windows and spires that reminded me a little of a castle. Furniture ideas spiraled through my mind. I wondered if Dee wanted a throne.

“Stop,” Trent said suddenly.

I shoved my foot down on the brake, pulling over to the side of the road, giving a little cheer when I managed to stop the truck without it imploding. I looked out Trent’s window. There was a kid sitting on the curb. He stood as Trent opened his door. I assumed this was Jimmy. He had the same dark hair as Trent, but was shorter and lankier, like he hadn’t quite grown into himself yet.

Trent left his door open as Jimmy threw himself into his arms, sobbing on his shoulder. Man, this kid was taking this poor grade really hard.

“I…I don’t know what I did wrong,” he cried, his breathing choppy. “I even went in for office hours to make sure I understood the assignment.”

“It’s okay, Jimmy,” Trent said. “One bad grade isn’t going to derail your entire college career. Trust me. You’ve heard about the things the guys and I got up to in college. I had my fair share of bad grades. It didn’t stop me from doing anything I wanted to do.”

Jimmy sniffled. “What if it does though? What if this is how it starts falling apart? What if I’m not smart enough for this school?”

“Hey,” Trent said, giving his shoulders a little shake. “Hey! You’re plenty smart enough for this place. In fact, you might be too smart.”

Jimmy snorted. “That’s not what my professor thinks.”

“That’s one man with an opinion,” Trent said.

“One man who matters.”

Trent waved him off. Jimmy dabbed at his eyes with his sleeves. “I’m sorry for being so much trouble.”

“You’re not any trouble at all,” Trent said, his voice almost a growl. “I will always be here for you whenever you need me. Now. At two in the morning. Whenever. You know that. Right?”

Jimmy nodded. “Right.”

The conviction with which Trent spoke made my heart clench. Whatever his relationship was with his parents, he was clearly a very devoted brother.

“Wait…” Jimmy said, glancing up at the truck. “Why the hell’d you come to campus in a U-Haul?”

Trent grimaced. “I, uh…was in the middle of a supply delivery. To Natasha.” He gestured to me, and Jimmy blinked like he’d only just noticed I was there.

I got out of the truck, walking around the front of it.