Bro Code(14)

“I’m sorry, was that or was that not Barrett Wilson?” Her eyes are wide like she just spotted an A-list celebrity, not my high-school heartthrob.

“The one and only,” I say, a smirk tugging at the sides of my lips.

“Since when are you guys a thing? God, I didn’t think it was possible, but he’s gotten more gorgeous. Didn’t you have a major crush on him in high school?”

“We’re not a thing.” I pause, then hand over the gossip I know she so desperately wants. “Although we may have kissed.”

Saying it out loud leaves my lips warm and buzzing, almost as good as the kiss itself. I haven’t felt like this about a man in such a long time, but of all people, does it really have to be my brother's best friend?

“You are so lucky the mall is open late,” she says, “because you have a ton of explaining to do.”

As we weave in and out of stores in search of a fitting retirement gift for my dad, I fill her in on every detail. The shower ordeal, the standoff followed by the pantsing accident, all of it. She cackles at my horrible luck, and I can’t really blame her. The past few days have been nothing short of a parade of embarrassing moments, but I’d take a hundred more slip-ups if it meant Barrett would kiss me like that one more time. I'm clearly insane.

“So, what’s next? Is ‘present shopping for my dad’ code for ‘picking out new lingerie’?” She gestures toward a lingerie store, raising her eyebrows suggestively. I’m ashamed to say it takes me a second to rule out the idea. The thought of Barrett pulling something black and lacy off me with his teeth is almost enough for me to abandon any ounce of the self-control I’ve been clinging to. Key word: almost.

“He’s Nick’s best friend, Megan. Nothing can happen. That would be like if you and Nick hooked up.”

She purses her lips and shrugs, her eyes pointed at the ceiling. “You're right, I’d never go there,” she teases, which earns her a swat on the arm. I duck into a store filled with greeting cards and Megan follows me.

“But come on, Ava. You’re not passing this up. This is Barrett we’re talking about here. Every high school fantasy we ever had come to life. And it’s not like you’re on the market for anything serious, right?”

I shake my head. “Taking over the plant is taking over my life. I don’t have the time to maintain a relationship right now. Plus, he’s in Chicago. Dating a guy who lives three hours away is only something I would have done in college. Our lives don’t line up. More than that, my brother would disown one of us if he ever found out.” I'm not sure who I'm trying to convince, her or myself.

“So, then, what does it matter?” she asks, rolling her eyes and flipping halfheartedly through a stack of retirement cards. “You’re adults. And you have chemistry. You don’t have to live by some high school ‘bro code.’ And it’s not like you share the details of your sex life with your brother. What he doesn’t know isn’t going to hurt him.”

I don’t know what to say, so I just shake my head. Chemistry or no chemistry, I could never just throw caution to the wind like that. It's not me. Even if I might want it to be.

“You get what you want and then you go your separate ways. No harm, no foul.” Her mouth curls into a devilish grin. “And if he’s ever back in town, well, there’s no shame in going back for seconds.”





Chapter Seven


Barrett


The drive over to my mother's house is a lot longer than I remember.

I could speed things up, lay on the gas and be there a few minutes sooner, but more than anything I want to turn right around and head to Ava's place. Her mother would welcome me back in with open arms, and I wouldn't have to worry about taking up too much space. Frustration burns slowly in my chest like a slow wildfire when I spy the sign for my old neighborhood, making a tight turn down the snow-slick road.

I blow out a slow breath. A few hours of smiling and talking to everybody, catching up because no one ever calls, or sends birthday cards, then I can drive on back before it's too late. Of course, I love my family, but I've always been the odd one out, the firstborn son before my mom was married, and hardly out of high school. When I was seven years old, she married Bob and had another family. One I've never quite felt part of. Now, every time we're around each other, I can't fight the feeling that I'm overstaying my welcome.

Cars crowd the driveway as I pull up, and I have to snag a space farther down the street, right on the edge of the neighbor's property. Ice crunches under my feet on my way to the front but it's nothing like the noise I can hear filtering through the door, half a dozen voices all talking over each other.

I knock as a warning before stepping inside, since the door is never locked. “How's it going, everyone?”

Both of my half-siblings have taken custody of the living room couch, chatting among themselves, but my two nieces wave when they see me. “Hi, Uncle Barrett!”

“Barrett?” My mother's voice carries from the kitchen. “Come say hi, sweetie.”

It's a short walk through the living room to find her, and I have to duck under one of the pans hanging from the rack on the ceiling. Everything is jammed tight between the counter and the stove; half the cabinets open for ingredients, so she has everything in reach. She's balancing her attention between three different pots at once, and I'm standing there for a few seconds before my presence catches her attention.