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The more we walk, the more my mind circumnavigates back to Willow. Despite the skeleton-painted guys shrieking at the guests and chainsaws revving, I know she’d want to be here. She loves her family, and missing out on a group experience would bum her out.
There are pros and cons to being away, and this right now, is her con. Even if I’m having a decent…pretty good time.
So yeah, I feel kind of shitty about that.
I hate that we’re on two separate continents. We’re stretched thin for time as it is. And I’m not a mind reader. I don’t know what she’s thinking all the time, and especially now that she’s around college guys like Salvatore Amadio, she has to be beginning to understand that I’m not a great person. Bottom barrel. I’m shit, and once she realizes that completely, she’ll want it to be over. And how can I blame her?
I glance back at Ryke and Loren. Her brothers. They talk to her every week, and I wonder if she’s brought me up. I’m not going to ask though.
Should I?
I feel like that’s prying.
They’re her brothers, not mine. They’re not unbiased or anything. Not that I need someone on my side. I think everyone should be on Willow’s.
Swiftly, I look back again. This time not discreet enough.
“If you have something to fucking say, just say it,” Ryke says. His tone is softer than his words. “We don’t bite.”
“I do,” Loren adds with a bitter smile. “But count yourself lucky, I won’t bite you.”
I don’t believe that.
But I do believe that if he lashed out at me, I’d probably deserve it.
I slow down just to walk beside them. Taking a deep breath, I just let it all out. “You both talk to Willow a lot—I’m sure about me—and you can probably gauge her feelings, right? Honestly, I don’t need a ten-page-long synopsis or diagram or anything, but I just want to know the percentage you two think Willow will want to break up with me in the next few years.”
I must be a masochist to want to know. But I do.
Ryke’s brows furrow. “Don’t you two fucking talk to each other?”
“Yeah, but do you even know what it’s like being in a long-distance relationship? I can only say I love you so fucking much. It’s not the same as…” I take off the blinking baseball hat, hot all of a sudden. “It’s just harder.”
I want to hold her. I want to be with her. How do you do that if you’re physically separated from someone? And that physical part of a relationship—she could get it so much easier from a guy like Salvatore.
But even thinking of my girl with another guy—God, stop.
I focus on the question I asked: What percentage do they think Willow will want to break up with me?
“Zero percent,” Loren says, not even really hesitating.
I jerk back. “Zero percent?” I glance at Ryke. “Is he good at math?”
“Am I good at math,” Loren repeats like I’m a toddler. “I can count to ten. One, two, my sister is too good for you, four, five, you both will survive.”
I take that in, focusing on the important part. “You realize you didn’t reach ten, right?”
Loren swings his head to Ryke.
Ryke flips me off. Two middle fingers.
It’s his go-to move, and really, I earned it. I’m nearly smiling. “What percentage?” I ask Ryke.
“Zero,” he says, “but I don’t know what you’ll fucking do.” Wait…what?
I frown. “Why would you think that I’d want to break up with her? I’m worried about her breaking up with me.”
“That broken heart fucking thing,” Ryke says.
Shiiiiiit.
My mouth falls in realization. I filled out that questionnaire months ago, but maybe it’s been in the back of their minds. “You saw my Tumblr questionnaire?” Frustration surges. “How? You don’t even use Tumblr. You’re internet inept!”
“Fuck you.”
Loren interjects, “It’s true.”
Ryke glowers at Lo. “I know how to use Facebook.”
“Facebook is stupid, man,” I say. “It’s like the ugly stepchild of Tumblr.” But right now, I’m not feeling great things about Tumblr either. It’s easier liking the internet when it isn’t cruel to you, and I’ve seen Willow and her family pressed underneath the weight of it. Like everything, I just think maybe there are good and bad parts of it.
Ryke wears a confused I don’t know what you’re talking about expression like I just spoke an intergalactic language. Loren laughs.
“Honestly,” I say, “did you stumble on it or something?”
“Or something,” Loren replies. Fuuuuck. That could only mean one thing.
I glare at the sky. “Daisy showed you?”
Ryke scowls. “Leave her fucking out of it.”
“Whatever,” I say into a big breath. “Look, it doesn’t matter. I don’t feel great about where I left things with Willow when she was in Philly.”
Loren drills me with one of his iconic glares, a hell of a lot sharper than Ryke’s. Which only confirms my suspicions.
