Page 57
That’s a punk move with it being so close.
Two things to note here: Cody used a word way worse than ‘punk,’ and he has a fair point. But before I mention that Cody saying we’re inconveniencing Dustin doesn’t exactly make him a jerk, I read on.
Cody
She better not be a piece of trash.
My eyes fly wide. The word he used instead of ‘piece of trash’ is not fit to repeat.
Cody
There’s no way you could do better than Brielle. What a smokeshow.
Cody
How’d you screw that up again?
Cody
Oh, that’s right, because you suck.
The woman-shaming, followed by glorifying Shane’s ex-fiancée, then diving right into insults makes my head swim. I push the phone onto the center console like it’s covered in mucus then wipe my hands on my paint-splotched overalls.
Shane tips his chin expectantly.
“Fine. Your brother’s a jerk.” I puff a defeated breath, sending my bangs fluttering off my forehead. “Are they…” I hesitate, already knowing the answer. “Are they all like that?”
He nods.
A barrage of questions fights to be the first out of my mouth. Why is his family so terrible? Did they mistake basic kindness for a contagious disease? Was showing empathy punishable by fingernail removal? Also, how did Shane—who’s a complete marshmallow at his core—survive being surrounded by wolves?
“Cody has been divorced three times and has four kids from two different marriages, but he acts like it’s my failed engagement that brings shame to the Seaver name.” His focus shifts to the sluicing rain. “Dad didn’t even try to get remarried after Mom left, just paraded a revolving cast of women in front of us. Dustin is on wife number five.”
“Five?” I gasp.
“Yup.”
“And how old is he?”
“Thirty-one.”
“That’s…” I struggle to find the right adjective. “I don’t know if I should say persistent or—”
“Let’s just say Seavers aren’t known for lasting relationships.”
The implication lands with all the subtlety of an airhorn in a library.
For once, I don’t know what to say, so I just tuck my knees against my chest and watch the rain.
“They’re going to be terrible to you at the wedding,” Shane says after a long moment, apology in his voice.
I nod, hugging my legs. “When is it again?”
“Three weeks.”
I allow myself one sinking exhale before I push my shoulders back and send Shane a sly look. “That’s good because it gives me a chance to practice verbally outwitting bullies. I’m going to look up some kill-‘em-with-kindness comebacks that’ll keep their heads spinning.”
A shuddered breath parts Shane’s lips as his entire body goes slack. I’d been too busy processing everything that I hadn’t noticed how tightly he’d been holding himself.
