#Selfie (Hashtag Series Book 4) (11 page)

“Don’t you know better than to tell a woman she looks like shit?” Ah! I wished I could snatch those words back the second they left my mouth. I basically just admitted what he said hurt me. Admissions like that gave a guy like him too much power.

He stopped and rocked back on his heels. “That pricked your infallible armor, did it?”

“What do you want, Braeden?”

“There’s something you need to know.” The serious tone in his voice perked me up.

“What is it?”

He stepped forward and rested his hands on the windowsill of my door. When he leaned in, his eyes reminded me of the coffee I drank before I added in some cream. The dark depths of his stare swept over my face, sort of like he was taking inventory, making sure it was all still there.

“I thought you should know,” he began. His hair seemed a little longer than usual, a little more unruly. My fingers itched to delve into the wayward strands, to feel the silky texture against my palm.

“That I still don’t like you.”

It took a moment for his words to penetrate the spell he’d cast on me. But once they did, I wanted to smack him.

I settled for whacking his hand with an empty CD case from the seat next to me.

“Ow!” he howled, jerking back.

“I still don’t like you either!” I snapped and rolled up the window.

Braeden didn’t seem the least bit put off. If anything, he seemed proud he annoyed me. I watched him walk back to his truck and hoist himself inside.

I didn’t notice the way his Levi’s molded around his tight rear end as he walked.

Before he drove away, he looked back one last time.

I ignored him.

Braeden

Fucking sweatpants.

They were tricky little bastards. Meant for comfort, meant for laziness, meant for making a guy’s eye move right on by.

But that isn’t what they did.

I’d never seen Ivy so dressed down before. Usually, she was on point with her style and outfits. I’m surprised she even owned a pair of sweatpants.

When the minutes ticked by and she didn’t arrive at breakfast, I started to wonder if she was coming. I hadn’t seen her at all since we got back from spring break. Not that I’d been looking for her. But if she was avoiding me, I wanted to know. I needed to be prepared to explain to Rimmel why her BFF wasn’t hanging around so much anymore.

Just when I began concocting crazy but slightly believable lies for my sis, Ivy breezed through the door, late, and I swear at least three guys’ heads swiveled to check out the way she strutted through the pancake house with those bright-pink sweats molded to her fine ass.

Day-um.

No one was overlooking the girl who didn’t try this morning. In fact, more people were looking than I cared to admit.

She was sexy as hell with her hair all a mess, sunglasses perched on her head, barely-there makeup, and an outfit that said she was sexy without even trying to be.

I didn’t notice she looked a little tired until Missy pointed it out. It made me curious about what was going on with her.

Since when did I care about her life?

She acted like she normally did, meaning barely glancing in my direction. It wasn’t anything new, but my inner reaction to it was.

I didn’t like it.

In fact, it kinda pissed me off.

Watching Trent whisper in her ear half the damn morning wasn’t my idea of mealtime ambience either. I was just glad it was over.

Because last week had been full of everyone getting back into the swing of things—AKA Rimmel lived in the library—dinner with my mom got put off. Not that I was heartbroken or anything. Honestly, I wasn’t anxious to go home. I knew Mom would ask me about the message from my father. She’d want to know if I called him.

I’m pretty sure hell was still ablaze with sinners and brimstone, so yeah, no. I didn’t call. I wasn’t going to.

Why she even seemed inclined to imply I should shocked the hell out of me.

I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to think about it. I wanted to forget.

I’d been trying to do a lot of that lately.

I couldn’t hide from my mom forever, and I did ask her to dinner, so when Rimmel texted to set something up, I couldn’t say no. When I called Mom to see if she was still up for it, I felt guilty for staying away so long. She offered to make us all a home-cooked meal and said how much she was looking forward to it.

And so here I was, pulling into the driveway of the house I’d grown up in. After I killed the engine, I sat there staring at the rancher for several long, silent moments. Frankly, I was surprised my mother still lived here. A lot had happened in her life at this place. Some good, but more of it bad. Hell, if I were honest with myself, I would admit the real reason I needed my own “space” over at the dorm was to get away from the memories here.

The bright-green, spotless Hellcat pulled up behind me. In my rearview, I watched Rimmel bounce around in the passenger seat and Rome say something to her that made her laugh. A smile pulled at the corner of my mouth. I honestly couldn’t have loved her more if God had made her my biological sister. The innocence and openness of her heart despite the shitty hand life dealt her shocked me.

How she hadn’t become jaded seemed a miracle to me. It was something I wanted to protect. I hoped Rimmel never lost that innocence about her. I realized her openness was something Rome and I somehow had been given, because she wasn’t like that with everyone. It had taken Romeo a while to get in.

Seemed like it took less for me. Maybe that’s because on some level, my little sis and I recognized each other. I understood her walls better than most.

Even still, Rimmel and I were different, because once someone got behind that wall she kept up, it was all rainbows and unicorns. Happy times and gummy bears. I wasn’t Willy Wonka. I didn’t have happy times and gummy bears inside me.

I had a wall and then another one.

She appeared at my window, craning her neck to see inside the lifted truck. I laughed and popped open the door. “Hey, tutor girl.”

“What are you doing sitting in the driveway?” She was holding a large bouquet of sunflowers, almost as big as her head.

Her dark hair was down around her shoulders, looking pretty tame, her clothes matched a little too well and didn’t swallow her whole, and I knew right away she hadn’t dressed herself.

This was Ivy’s handiwork.

“You trying to make me look bad by showing up here with flowers?” I asked.

She snorted. “As if you could look bad.”

“Well, Rim, some people need flowers and some are just naturally amazing.” I sighed like it was a chore.

Behind her dark-framed glasses, hazel eyes rolled. “And some people have big egos.”

I grinned. “Rome.”

“What’s up, B?” We pounded our fists in way of greeting.

Rimmel muttered something about us acting like cavemen.

“You boys gonna eat in the driveway?” Mom’s voice carried through the mild spring air.

She was standing in the front door with a kitchen towel in her hand. I plucked the flowers out of Rim’s hands and dashed across the driveway. She let out a yell behind me and Romeo chuckled.

“For you.” I presented the flowers to my mother. She took them and patted me on the cheek.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you, Rimmel.” Mom looked around me to her guests.

“I’m insulted,” I cracked and moved into the house. “I’ve brought you flowers.”

Usually they needed to be planted in her garden, but she liked that shit. It counted… right?

“Thank you so much for having us, Caroline,” Rimmel said politely.

Little sisters were suck-ups.

“Thanks for coming, honey,” Mom crooned.

I made a gagging sound.

“Mom!” Romeo greeted her a lot less politely but way more familiar than Rim. “What’s cooking?” He swept her up in a bear hug, and she swatted him with the towel.

“Lasagna.”

“Hope you made a whole pan just for me,” Romeo replied. “‘Cause I’m starving.”

“Me too,” I added.

“How did I know you would say that?” I felt Mom looking at me, studying me. I knew she probably wanted to ask about him.

But she didn’t. She wouldn’t. Not in front of my friends.

“Wash up. It’s almost ready,” she instructed.

Rome and I took off for the bathroom like it was a race. We’d been doing it since we were seven and it would probably never change. Except of course now we were both too big to fit through the bathroom door at the same time.

Mom and Rimmel were talking animatedly out in the kitchen and their voices carried down the hall.

“How’s the arm, Rome?” I asked, glancing at the arm he’d broken several weeks ago. It used to be in a sling, but now he just wore a brace. And when it was under his jacket, it appeared there was nothing wrong at all.

He grunted. “Healing up. Now that we’re back, I’d like to get some extra training in on the field. You game?”

“Hells yeah,” I said as I scrubbed my hands. I could use an outlet for some of the pent-up crap inside me. Some days I felt like a caged animal. I missed football season; I missed the team and the practices that kicked my ass.

I was a damn good player, but I’d never been quite as serious about it as Romeo. I’d done it more for the rush, for the outlet being on the field provided.

The lasagna was banging and so were the salad and garlic toast she made to go with it. The dinner conversation was light, and I spent half of it teasing Rimmel about everything I could think of. Mom grilled Rome about his arm and physical therapy, which was something she was interested in as a nurse. I’d learned a long time ago that nurses never really left their jobs at the hospital. Being a nurse was an around-the-clock gig, and for Mom, caring about people was, too.

Romeo and I were plowing through our second slice of cheesecake and Rimmel was helping Mom with the cleanup when the phone rang.

She still had one of those ancient phones that hung on the wall. A landline. It practically belonged in a museum. I’d asked her a hundred times why she didn’t just cut it off and use her cellphone exclusively. She said it was for safety and she wanted it in case she ever forgot to charge her cell.

I wasn’t gonna argue with anything that made her feel safe. Hell, I’d put a landline in every room of this house if I thought that’s what she wanted.

“I’m surprised that thing doesn’t spit out a cloud of dust every time it rings,” Romeo drawled.

I cackled. “Good one.”

“You boys.” Mom chuckled and padded across the kitchen to pick up the receiver.

She was barefoot tonight and dressed in some black pants Ivy would call leggings with some kind of long, silky shirt in a pale yellow. Her dark hair hung in a single braid down her back, and it reminded me of that chick from
Hunger Games
.

“Please tell me you aren’t going to eat another piece,” Rimmel said, motioning toward the half-gone cheesecake on the table between Romeo and me.

I was thinking about it.

Romeo caught her around the waist and pulled her into his lap. She settled there like there was no place else she’d rather be, and something in my chest felt hollow. They had an easy way about them, not because their relationship had been easy—hell, they could fill up an hour of
Jerry Springer
—but their feelings were. It’s like they never doubted they belonged together.

A coldness seeped into the room, stillness. It pushed away all my thoughts of cheesecake and sappy love. I felt the tentacles of something I didn’t like creep across the floor like a stalker in a bad horror movie.

“Just a second,” Mom said.

My fork clattered against the plate.

I knew.

I knew what the wooden tone, the lack of inflection in her voice, meant.

It was him.

He was fucking calling here again.

I spun in the seat and glared across the room. Mom pulled the receiver from her ear and held it at her side. We looked at each other. “It’s for you.”

I shoved out of the chair so hard it clattered onto the floor. I wanted so badly to rip the phone from her hand. From the wall. But I forced myself to take it calmly. Acting like a caveman would only make things worse.

I’d go to the gym afterward and hit the bag if I needed to.

“Braeden.” Mom’s voice begged for some kind of understanding.

I laughed. It wasn’t a nice sound.

“Don’t ever call here again,” I snarled into the phone. Then I slammed it back on the base on the wall.

Even with the loud clattering of the phone being hung up, silence descended upon the room. It was like we were in a movie and someone hit pause.

Breath heaved in my lungs and fingertips curled into my palm.

Hate.

It was a strong emotion. Probably the strongest I’d ever known.

And right beneath it lay fear.

Both of those feelings originated from the same place. Both of them were inspired by the same man.

My father.

The silence was shattered when Romeo cleared his throat. He stood up, taking Rimmel with him, and placed her on her feet.

“I ate way too damn much. I’m gonna need to hit the gym and work it off.”

It wasn’t lost on me the way he stepped in front of Rimmel like he felt the need to protect her.

Which pissed me off. I swung around to face him.

Did he really think I’d hurt my damn sister?

He held his ground, like I knew he would. I stared into his face, just looking for a fight. He’d give me one if that’s what I wanted. It wouldn’t be the first time.

But I couldn’t deny there was no hint of warning in his eyes. He wasn’t shielding Rimmel from
me
, just the situation.