Right Kind of Wrong(22)

Through the phone, I hear my mom’s weary sigh. “I know you did, baby. I just wish you and your brother would quit pretending like this is no big deal. I already lost your father. I can’t lose Drew too.”

I walk over to where Jenna is still cursing at the door and, with one solid kick, wedge the stopper under the base so the door stays locked against the wall, wide open between our rooms.

“I know, Mom,” I say. “You won’t lose him. I promise.”

At my words, Jenna looks up at me in concern. I wave it off, giving her a reassuring nod. The last thing I need is Jenna flipping out. At least with my mom and brother I can ignore their calls. If Jenna were to jump on board the freak-out train, I’d have no way to turn her off.

Jenna gestures to the doorstop and mouths, Thanks.

I mouth back, No problem, then listen as my mom sighs again through the phone.

“I hope you’re right,” she says wistfully. “I’m glad you’re coming back home, baby.” She pauses. “Really glad.”

I look at the floor, struggling to find the right words to say, but I come up with nothing. Mom must realize this because she carries on without hesitation.

“Drive safe, baby,” she says. “I’ll see you soon. Good night.”

“Good night, Mom,” I say and the line goes dead. I lower the phone.

Jenna’s eyes catch on my bare chest for a moment before she nods at the phone. “Your mom, huh?”

I drop the phone in my pocket. “Yeah.”

She furrows her brow. “Who’s she afraid of losing?”

I smile sadly, half of me wishing Jenna knew everything about me, the other half wishing she knew nothing at all.

“Everyone,” I say. Jenna doesn’t seem satisfied by my vague answer so I add, “But at this particular moment, she’s worried about my brother.”

“Samson?”

I shake my head. “Drew.”

The corner of her mouth lifts in a small smile. “Baby brother got himself into some trouble, then?”

“I’m afraid so.” I glance at the doorstop. “I guess you got fed up with all the screeching?”

“It was driving me insane.”

“Yeah, patience and tolerance have never been your strong suits.”

“Please.” She rolls her eyes. “Like you weren’t just as annoyed by that damn squeaking as I was.”

I grin. “Oh, I was annoyed. Just not enough to come over here and kick the shit out of this poor plastic wedge”—I tap my foot against the stopper—“to prop it open.”

I pull my eyes up, tracing the ink patterns on her thighs, then over to where the cherry blossom branches from her back wind to her stomach and dot her lower belly. I’ve touched those branches and kissed those blossoms. It’s burns me a little that I may never have the pleasure of doing that again.

Jenna clears her throat and tips her chin. “Then good thing I was. Now we’ll actually get some sleep tonight. And I don’t care how long it makes our trip each day, I’m sleeping in tomorrow—and every other day we’re on the road. This is as close as I’ve gotten to a vacation since I started working at the Thirsty Coyote and I’m not about to set an alarm clock.”

I smile to myself. Jenna isn’t a morning person, not in the slightest. She’s definitely a night owl, which suits her personality perfectly. The intense darkness. The changing moon. The glinting stars. They’re far more “Jenna” than the happy morning sun and clear blue sky.

“So our departure time is dependent on you waking up out of your own free will?” I whistle. “Okay, then. I guess I’ll see you around noon.”

She narrows her eyes. “I’m not that bad at waking up.”

“You sleep like a hibernating bear.”

“I do not,” she says sternly, but there’s a sliver of teasing in her eyes that fills me with pride. I know her well, and I like it.

“You do, but it’s okay.” I shrug. “We’ll leave when we leave.”

I look down into her golden eyes, just inches from mine, and wonder if there will ever be a time when I can stand this close to her and not feel so undone, so unguarded. Then I wonder if that’s even something I would want.

“Thanks,” she says quietly then draws in a slow breath before shifting her eyes away. She takes a step back. “Night.”

I retreat from the door as well. “Night.” And we go to our own beds.

As I get in mine, my thoughts turn to Drew and the mess that waits for me in Little Vail. He’d better not be mixed up too deep with the wrong kind of business. I’ll be pissed if he is. I love Drew—hell, I practically raised the kid—but I worked too hard to give him a better life for him to throw it away.