Flirting with the Frenemy (Bro Code #1)(17)

Beck laughs. “Like you have to try to irritate her. Just be you. It’ll happen.”

“Why don’t you try to annoy her?”

“Can’t. She’s my baby sister, and she’s hurt. My instinct is to protect and save.”

“You just asked me to annoy her.”

“That’s different. Plus, it was Levi’s idea. Fuck, I thought you two loved each other. I forgot all those times she threw dog poop at you when we were playing volleyball and you tried to help her serve better.”

I can’t believe I’m smiling over that memory, but here we are. “I was honestly surprised the day I heard she actually graduated college without getting arrested.”

“Mom says she never found where she fit in. Toss in teenage hormones and having us for role models, and she was basically doomed. But I think Levi’s right. She always hated you the most.”

“Appreciate that.”

“She can’t go too hard on you. Not with Tucker around. She loves kids.”

And I can’t go too hard on her.

Not with Tucker around.

Kid needs a good role model, not a fucked-up one. Especially since I know his mother’s dating again.

But the only thing I learned about being a good role model, I learned from my buddies’ fathers. Not my own.

“She’s gonna be okay, Beck,” I tell him. “She’s too stubborn not to be.”

“Thanks, man. I owe you one.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Quit being a pain in the ass. And don’t beat my high score on Frogger or I’ll ship you a box of dicks at work.”

“You coming home anytime this summer?”

“Sometime.”

“Swing by Georgia when you do. I need you to show Tucker that all these pillows and cardboard cutouts of you are airbrushed so he doesn’t get body image issues. And bring your baby book. The one with the picture of you swimming in cake with your baby belly hanging over your diaper.”

He laughs. “You got it.”

I hang up and finish the dishes, clean out the fireplace, and take out the trash before settling in to listen to an audiobook in the darkened living room.

Because if Ellie’s coming home tonight, we’re going to talk.

About everything.





Seven





Ellie



In addition to my brain reeling from trying to keep my story about Wyatt straight all night, my thigh and hip are full-on throbbing by the time Monica pulls to a stop beside Wyatt’s SUV in Beck’s driveway. A single lamp shines in the front window and the porch light glows bright in the dark, starless night. Once she has the car in park, she turns to look at me. “Sorry I didn’t get you home in time to take advantage of Wyatt.”

“Parenting is exhausting. We’ll have plenty of time later. And Wyatt knows I’m here for you this week. Like I know he’s here for Tucker to see the Pirate Festival. It’s just a bonus that we get any time at all.”

Gag me. But she’ll freak more if she knows I’m faking this, and I do not want to distract her from the joy of her pirate wedding week.

She leans over to hug me tight. “Thank you so much for being here this week.”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“Am I a horrible person if I say I could really like Sloane if she wasn’t dating Patrick?” she whispers.

“Patrick’s going to be your brother-in-law. So probably.”

“I meant the being disloyal to you part.”

“Oh, stop. I have Wyatt. Patrick has Sloane. The world has moved on. Besides, I think I could like her too. Did you hear her story about the patient who kept trying to trade her chocolate bars for tequila? That was really funny.”

“But I’m still on Team Ellie.”

“We’re not on teams.”

“But I’m totally on Team Wyatt. I swear, Ellie, if he turns into a douche too after all this build-up—”

“What build-up?”

“You don’t spend years claiming to hate a man, then screw his brains out, then nearly get yourself killed in an accident and refuse to even admit you screwed his brains out for months afterward, and not have secret feelings for him. You just don’t.”

I gape at her.

“This isn’t about the accident, is it?” she asks, her brow furrowing in the dim light. “Because if he’s doing this because he feels guilty, and not because he’s always been unable to handle knowing that you’re his soul mate, then I might have to slice his balls off. And I don’t want to do that. Not when I think of the trauma to his kid.”

“You are such a nut.”

“And you love me for it.”

I really do. She’s like a female version of Beck. Fun, intentionally obtuse, and sometimes annoying, but always with good intentions, and always there to have your back.

I could do without the inference that Wyatt and I are soul mates though, because while it’s fantastic for a cover story, it’s horrible for my indigestion. “I hope I can be as good a friend as you someday,” I tell her.

“Hush your mouth. Who’s limping around on pirate boots to appease the bride?”