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“Your brother,” I cut in. “I met Jesse.” An exaggeration, but I’m not about to tell her I gave him my last beer. She freezes in place, and her face drains of color so fast I’m glad I kept the last part to myself.
“Was he okay?”
I shrug, feeling off-balance. Did she really not know where he was? “He was plenty occupied with Chelsea Richardson when I last saw him. Seemed to be doing fine.” By the end, I’m no longer throwing it in her face. Instead, I’m throwing her a bone.
Winnie deflates, looking relieved. Then her mouth twists. “I didn’t realize he was dating Chelsea. That explains a lot, actually.”
Fucking A. “You were worried.”
Her eyes dart away, and she tries to come off nonchalant, but it’s too late.
“He’s fourteen, and he didn’t come home at all yesterday or last night. He wasn’t in his bed this morning.”
“Lucky him,” I joke. It doesn’t suit me to care about a kid I never met or a girl whose default setting appears to be “let down.” “Am I sensing jealousy?”
Winnie narrows her eyes. “Hardly. But if he’s not careful, he’s gonna get the princess pregnant, and then I’ll have more shit to deal with.”
I don’t think that’s all of it, but my headache is getting worse and I don’t feel up to matching wits anymore. “Right. That’s it, I’m sure. Anyway, shouldn’t you be at work?”
She inhales sharply, and I instantly regret my snark, but before I can think of an apology, she spins on her heel and marches toward the barn.
I release a long breath and slam the car door behind me. I reach into my greasy hair, tugging on the ends. Fucking hell, I fucked that up.Again.
Walking up to the house, I grumble a hello to Kerry and continue to my bedroom without sticking around for what would assuredly be another “why Case is a disappointment” speech. Thankfully, I dodge my dad as well. Within moments, I’m dropping my day-old clothes on the floor of my giant bedroom and crawling under my down comforter. I close my eyes, but here, in the silence and the dark, my headache feels worse. I pull my pillow down over my face, but the pressure isn’t enough. I exhale deeply, trying to release the tension from my shoulders and neck, and unclench my jaw until my sour breath becomes too much to bear. I should brush my teeth. And take a Motrin or five. Maybe a hot shower would help?
With a muttered cuss, I fling off my covers and stalk to the window, shutting the blinds against the dawning sunrise. That’s the first step. My eyes drop to the piece of paper sitting on the top of my desk. Walker’s list, looking worse for the wear after these last eventful weeks.
I pick up a rogue, half-sharpened pencil and strike a bold line throughJump into a pool naked (at a party).
I rub a hand down my face, eyes skimming over the rest.
Jump off a corn silo into a pile of hay / snow
Drive backward down a dirt road in the middle of the night going over 60 mph
Eat oysters
Sing karaoke at one of Case’s dad’s fancy fundraisers(Naturally, I sang “Friends in Low Places” and the crowd went wild. Too easy.)
Learn a language other than English
Road trip somewhere
Walk the Fareway Freight train trestle
Conquer a bull OUTSIDE the arena
Do something illegal
I draw a line through that one, too, figuring underage drinking and also helping a fourteen-year-old underage drink is likely illegal enough to count.
Befriend Winnie Sutton
The paper crumples in my hand before I smooth it out and slump into my desk chair. Well, Case, you’ve screwed that one up. Walker thought the “horse girl” always hanging around the stables and leading trail rides, the girl who turned out to be Winnie Sutton, was cute but lonely. If it weren’t for the fact he was madly in love with Taylor, I would have thought he had a crushon her. But he genuinely seemed intrigued. And frustrated with me for not knowing more. “You live here and see her all the time,” he’d say. “Christ’s sake, man, she goes to our school. It’s embarrassing how out of touch you can be.”
He was right, obviously. Even if I barely go to the stables, I could’ve still gotten to know her. I always thought he was pulling one over on me, saying she needed a friend, but maybe he was right about that, too. After this morning, it seems like he was. And instead of being a friend, I was a total dick and made fun of her for caring about her brother. Literally nothing she said about me was an exaggeration. Even if it stung, where was the lie? I really am a self-absorbed asshole who for the first time in his life is facing something hard (very hard, but still) and can’t cope with it.
I’ve never been the kind of person who cared about having lots of friends. I’ve only ever cared about having one: Walker. And he was more like a brother. Being popular and having friends are not the same thing—I’ve lost my one friend, and now I’m alone.
