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Now there was another thing pulling me away from him.
But it wasn’t a choice between Scottie and Harper, and I knew that was all down to her.
Harper loved my brother. She accepted him and all his complex layers. And it was one of the reasons I’d started to look at her in a different light. She was patient, understanding, and encouraging. She was exactly the type of support my brother needed to flourish. And the fact he seemed completely taken with her was only the icing on the cake.
We got in the car, and Scottie groaned, “Finally. You made me wait forever.”
“Minutes, bud. We made you wait like three minutes. Where to for dinner?” I asked him. “You can choose.”
Scottie contemplated my question, his eyes flicking to Harper and back to me. “I really want to go to Sombreros for tacos, but will you be able to eat them, Harper?”
His compassion floored me, and I swallowed over the lump in my throat.
“I’ll find something to eat wherever we go, bud. Don’t you worry about me.”
“I worry,” he said. “About Mom, and Mason, and you. You’re supposed to worry about the people you care about. Isn’t that right, Mason brother?”
“That’s right, bud. Tacos good?” I asked Harper, and she nodded.
“You Steele boys are something special, you know,” she whispered, dropping her head against the seat to watch me back out of the parking spot.
“Mase?” Scottie piped up.
“Yeah, bud?”
“Fenton Jones said now that you have a girlfriend, you’ll have sex. Does that mean you’re going to make babies?”
“Jesus,” I breathed while Harper tried to contain her laughter. “I’m glad you think this is funny.”
“Come on, Mase, it kinda is.” She covered her mouth with her fist.
I shook my head with mild amusement, meeting Scottie’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “It’s a good thing I love you, bud.”
“So will you?” he asked.
“Will we what?”
“Have sex and make babies? Because Fenton has a baby sister, and I’m not sure I want one.”
* * *
“So, what do you think?” I asked Harper as she tucked into her gluten-free taco salad.
“So good,” she murmured around a mouthful of food.
“The best,” Scottie concurred, meticulously building his taco.
“This was a good call, bud,” I said. “Nothing like— fuck.” The air sucked clean from my lungs as I watched our father enter the restaurant.
“Mason, what’s wr—”
“Dad! Dad’s here.” Scottie dropped his taco and started flapping his hands. But as Dad spotted him and lifted a hand in a small wave, his expression morphed from excitement into trepidation. “Do you think he’s with them?” he asked quietly.
“No, bud. I don’t think he’s with them.” After my last conversation with our old man, he wouldn’t dare. But I didn’t think he’d show up unannounced either.
Yet here we were.
“I’ll go talk to him,” I said, ready to tell him to get the fuck out of here. But Harper reached over and laid her hand on my arm.
