“Kind of figured that, what with the way you treated the fly on your pants like a revolving door during high school.” For the next part, Nell adopted a low manly tone, “Hey, I’m the guitarist in a band. I write songs and I care about feelings and shit. Come on, you know you want a piece of this, baby.”
I quietly sniggered (she did his voice so well).
Vaughan cracked up laughing, nearly doubling at the waist. “Not bad. But you have to offer to play them some broody-ass emo tunes out by the lake. Works every time.”
Nell flipped him the bird.
“Take it easy,” he said. “I was going to call you today. Things got busy yesterday.”
“Oh, I know. The whole town’s talking about it. It’s how I knew to bring breakfast for both of you.”
“Awesome,” I moaned. Not unexpected, but still. Two hundred–odd guests had been in the front garden, waiting for the nuptials to happen. Made for a lot of mouths to do a lot of talking.
“Sorry,” said Nell. “But your botched wedding is hot news everywhere.”
I nodded, mouth curved down in a frown.
“We need to talk,” said Nell, turning back to her brother.
“Sounds serious.”
“It is. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for weeks.”
“Sorry.” Head hanging low, Vaughan winced. “There’s been a lot going on. I’m here now, though.”
“Which leads me to the next question. Why are you here?” She tilted her head. “You’ve avoided this place like the plague for years.”
“You just said you wanted to talk to me, now you’re giving me shit for being here?” He grabbed at the back of his neck, rubbing hard. “Like you said, it’s been a while. Maybe I just wanted to catch up with you.”
As eyebrows went, Nell’s left one was particularly vocal. The way it arced called bullshit on her brother without saying a word. “What’s going on, Vaughan? Last I heard you guys were touring with Stage Dive and everything was great.”
He gave a smile completely devoid of any joy. “So fucking great the lead vocalist went solo and our drummer joined another band.”
Nell’s jaw dropped, her face bloodless. “The band broke up?”
“Yeah.”
His sister still gaped.
“Got decided late last year. Once we finished the tour with Stage Dive we were splitting. I’ve had time to get used to it. Let it go. It’s fine.” He ignored her reaction, turning instead to me. “How are you doing, Lydia?”
“Hey. Hi. Good.”
“I take it you already met my sister. Come inside. There’s coffee for you too.”
“Okay. In a minute.” A glint of metal beneath some leaves caught my eye. Carefully, I dusted off the antique silver necklace my grandmother had given me for my twenty-first.
I hung the pendant around my neck, fingers fiddling with the clasp for a moment before it locked into place. Forget Chris and his family. I’d find my feet. They were nothing to me now, less than nothing. They were so subpar-nothing I didn’t even know how to describe just how zilch they were. Moving on.
“Babe, why’s your stuff all over the yard?” asked Vaughan.
“Pardon?” I blinked, returning to earth.
“Your stuff, it’s everywhere.” He downed the last of his coffee in one long gulp, his gaze fixed on my face.
Gah. Like he didn’t have enough to deal with without more of my drama. “Yeah, sorry,” I said. “I’ll get it cleaned up.”
“Lydia, stop,” he ordered in a stern voice. Then his gaze softened. “What happened here?”
“Samantha delivered my belongings.” I said, carefully retrieving my best black mascara from the bush of death. The thing basically consisted of a big evil ball of thorns beneath a couple of leaves. It was Satan’s shrubbery. Any more scratches from it and I’d look like I’d been in a cat fight. Close enough to the truth.
“You’re fucking kidding.” He wandered down the steps toward me.
“Wish I was.”
“Hey.” He gripped the back of my neck with his free hand, rubbing it far more softly than he’d done his own. The calluses on his fingers were rough, making for such a different sensation than Chris’s soft hands. “This petty bullshit is the worst she can do. Ignore it. You’re better than this.”
“I don’t know. Given half a chance, I’d really like to shoot her out of a cannon and forget to put up the safety net.”
“That seriously the best you could come up with?”
“No. Give me more time. It’s early.”
Sweet baby Jesus, his laugh. It was so low-down and dirty. I hadn’t even said anything worthy of such a sound. Disturbingly, I couldn’t remember what Chris’s laugh sounded like. Had I ever even heard it? No memory leaped to mind. What a sad and sorry statement about his life and the part I’d played in it. And while Chris’s problems were most definitely his own, I and mine needed a damn good looking over.