Hellion, a New Adult Romance Novel(5)

 

I close my eyes to get a grip on my anger.

 

Jersey pulls his hand out of mine and walks over to Mick, taking his instead. “Come on. I’ll show you how to be invisible. You can use my chapstick if you don’t bite it.”

 

Mick actually takes a few steps with Jersey before I intervene. “Hey! That’s enough, okay?”

 

“Mick, I’m leaving,” says Teagan, giving me a hopeless look. “My appointment’s downtown at four-thirty.”

 

“Go ahead without me. Rebel’s meeting you there.” Mick continues on towards my house.

 

“What the fuck?” I say, looking from Teagan to Mick’s back. He’s getting closer and closer to my front steps.

 

“I guess he’s going to hang with Jersey for a little while.” Teagan leans in and gives me a quick hug, which is enough to shock me into silence. She never ever does that.

 

“I have to go. I’ll swing by in about an hour and pick him up if he’s still here.”

 

“But … but … he can’t be here.”

 

“Why not? Jersey invited him in to play. He’s going to show him the whole put-it-on-lick-it-off thing.” Teagan’s smiling again.

 

“Would you quit that!” I finally yell.

 

“Quit what?” she says, getting into her car.

 

“Quit smiling and hugging me and shit! That’s not … normal! Not for you!”

 

She starts up her car and pulls away from the curb. “Have fun!” she shouts as she disappears down the road.

 

I stand out on my front walk, trying to decide what to do. It’s not like I have much choice, really, but it feels like I’ve just entered another dimension or something. A place where bad boys come over and have play dates with developmentally challenged little brothers … little brothers who have to go to the doctor.

 

“Oh, fuck me sideways. I forgot his appointment.” I run into the house, yelling for Jersey to get his cape off so we can get to the doctor’s office and hopefully talk our way into being seen, even though we’re two hours late for the appointment.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FOUR

 

 

 

 

 

WE’RE SITTING IN THE WAITING room, the three of us: Jersey, Mick, and I. Any other doctor would probably punish us for being so late and either turn us away or make us wait until the last person left the place, but not this guy. Doc Harper is the most righteously awesome medical person I’ve ever met. He’s been treating Jersey since he was born and I hope he never retires. I’ll probably just show up at his house if he tries.

 

Mick is sitting across the room from me, taking the chapstick from Jersey over and over and pretending to put it on and lick it off right along with him. I want to keep hating him for being nice and sexy at the same time, but that makes no sense. I’m not so confused that I don’t realize that. I also want to be mad about him being here, but he’s made that impossible. I’m starting to seriously doubt that he was mocking us earlier. What kind of guy bonds with a kid like Jersey and then goes to the doctor with him off the cuff like that? I pray he’s not a pervert, because damn. He is too hot for LA, if that’s even possible. I will kill him with my bare hands if he’s playing me or my brother, though. No amount of hotness is going to save him from that.

 

“Tastes good, huh?” Jersey asks.

 

“Yep. Tastes good.” Mick hands him the chapstick and glances at me before going back to looking at my brother.

 

I think I scared him earlier with my bitch attack. He hasn’t talked to me since we were on the front lawn of my house. I sigh heavily, thinking how much I hate having to apologize for my mouth. It’s not the first time this kind of thing has happened, with me jumping to the wrong conclusion where my brother is concerned. But no one who’s lived a year in my shoes would blame me. Jersey’s been bullied, harassed, and even physically hurt by guys who don’t get him or his issues, so I’m hypersensitive to it now. It’s the main reason I give him so much shit myself. I guess it’s my way of helping to toughen him up for the real world.

 

My mom has this irrational need to get Jersey self-sufficient and supporting himself by the time he’s twenty-one. She’s convinced she’s going to die young and leave her poor baby alone in the world to fend for himself, and no assurances on my part will sway her from thinking otherwise. It might have something to do with the fact that I threaten to put him in a home on a fairly regular basis, but she knows I’m kidding. I’d cut off my right arm for Jersey, that’s a fact.