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Maybe it was a good thing he’d already left.
“Don’t hold out on me, bud!” called some guy a few steps in front of her as he headed for the parking lot. “I want to know first thing next time if you have a hot date!”
Brielle raised her eyebrows. This felt awkward. It felt even more awkward when the guy smiled at her and winked before turning around.
But nothing was as awkward as noticing the person the guy was actually talking to—Archer.
Brielle stared. She wanted to nod or something or wave, but she was pretty sure she just stared.
For one thing, he wasstillshirtless. And boy did that look good on him. He was just slightly sun-kissed, just the softest bit tanned. His chest muscles really had no business being that defined. And thanks to the sweat glistening off him, he looked like he’d been oiled down, ready for the taking.
She might have bit her lip at the thought. But she was certainly still just staring.
So it was no surprise he turned and started wheeling away a short while later.
Brielle sighed and sat back down on the bench. It had been a little surprising when she’d sat down earlier and absentmindedly stared over at the court and found a guy in a wheelchair playing—and that guy being the one guy in a wheelchair she knew.
Then again, it wasn’t that surprising. She’d driven there—even though if she were being honest, she definitely could have walked from her house, except there weren’t sidewalks or paths the entire way and she hadn’t felt like walking in traffic in her frame of mind—and she knew it was a short distance from his condo complex. Much closer to his condo than to her house even—and when she thought about it, she was sure there was even a sidewalk leading to it. But she honestly, totally wasn’t hoping or expecting to find him when she’d set out for it.
She’d just wanted some fresh air and some peace of mind.
She’d been in a great mood after another day of cleaning Archer’s without all of the awkwardness. Even Mrs. Tanaka has been downright pleasant to be around because her favorite cousin’s daughter had called her the night before or something—Brielle wasn’t even sure, as she’d only been able to half-hear her over the sound of the vacuum and the scrubbing.
By the time she’d gotten back home to Nora grumpily draining a pot of noodles in the kitchen and her mom on the phone with one of her employees at the kitchen table, Brielle was ready for her first weekend post-college to be amazing. She had to clean Archer’s place, sure, but that wasn’t such a bad thing anymore. And then she’d be free to catch up on shows she’d missed because of finals and packing and every other crazy thing from the past few weeks and maybe she’d even spend some time reading—she hadn’t read for fun in forever—and waste time online and see how the gang was doing after their first full week of “real” adulthood (although Pembroke still hadn’t answered her—the thought of her ignoring everyone was a bit of a downer).
Nora slammed the pot on the glass plate protecting the counter. “On. War. Path,” she said as she flicked the stovetop fan off.
Brielle cocked her head, but Nora just shook the strainer of noodles back into the pot and crossed her arms, sulking against the cupboard and staring daggers at their mom.
Their mom put her hand over the speaker on her phone. “Girls! The sauce!”
Nora groaned as if she’d been asked to pick up an axe and chop firewood for the household as she flicked the burner with the sauce pan off and carefully lifted the cover to stick the mixing spoon in. She shouted and shook her hand when a bit of bubbling sauce spurt at her despite her efforts. She smashed the cover back on and tossed the spoon at the spoon rest, getting sauce everywhere. “I’m not evenhungry,” she snapped, rinsing her fingers in the sink.
Their mom laughed on the phone, oblivious to the mini drama show her youngest was putting on several feet from her. “Okay. All right then. Thank you, Deena.” She hung up and dropped the phone on the table, her face suddenly ashen as she massaged her temples.
Brielle dropped her purse by the hallway to the bedrooms and removed her half-apron. “Something wrong?”
Nora leaned over the counter beside the sink and examined her nails, probably looking for damage from the sauce incident. “There’salwayssomething wrong in the ever-so-exciting world of indentured servitude.”
Their mom looked up, gesticulating widely above her head. “Nora, I’ve had it up to here with your attitude today.”
Nora scoffed and raised her hands out to either side. “Thenwhywould you want me here all summer when I can be out of your hair for a month and a half?”
“I’ve explained this to you. One, we don’t have the money to spare for that camp—”
“God, you’re acting like I’m off to a camp for drug addicts instead of wanting to do something to better my life.Litaunderstood and said she’d pay for half of it!”
Brielle almost forgot that Nora still video chatted with their grandmother—their father’s mother—in Puerto Rico on occasion. She used to herself, but she hadn’t in ages. She hadn’t really had the interest in it. Their dad was never involved, just theirabuelita.
Their mom stood up from the table. “No. Oh, no. I’m not asking that poor woman to chip in for anything. She has enough to deal with cleaning up your father’s messes.”
“Again, Mom! Again with the cutting down Dad!”
Their mom grabbed the pot of noodles and dropped it on the table. “You don’t know the half of what happened between your father and me—”
Nora grabbed the pan of sauce and tossed it down on the table next to the pot of noodles, droplets of sauce splaying out at the rough handling. The splatter made it seem as if someone nearby had been punched in the nose and had spurted blood everywhere. “Oh, I’ve heardplentyabout it from Lita!”
Their mom opened her mouth and seemed about to speak but closed her eyes a moment, holding up her index finger. “I don’t want to get into this with you, Nora.”
