Kiss and Don't Tell(114)

“Have you eaten anything?” Hornsby asks.

“From the lack of plates in his sink, I’m going to say no,” Taters announces. “Order some pizza. I’m starving.”

“On it,” Posey says, taking charge in the food department like always. He pulls his phone from his pants and heads down the hallway. He most likely has our favorite pizza place as one of his ICE contacts in his phone.

“I’m going to grab some real beer from the store around the corner,” Taters says.

“And I’m going to snag some ice cream.” Hornsby rubs his stomach. “I know we could all use some after that car ride and listening to Posey drone on endlessly about the chocolatier guy he likes following on Instagram.”

Taters and Hornsby take off, leaving me alone with Holmes, who just placed my car keys on the kitchen bench. So he drove my car? Good. His brow crinkles as he looks up at me. He doesn’t have to say anything, it’s all in that look.

You okay, dude?

Sighing heavily, I walk over to the couch and take a seat. “I’m such a fuck-up.”

“So you’ve said.”

I roll my head to the side to look Holmes in the eyes. “I’m fucking scared about the test results. Doc didn’t seem optimistic. And I drove away the one person who could take away that worry.”

Holmes scratches the side of his jaw. “Yeah, that’s a bad fucking day.”

“Tell me about it.”





Pizza boxes are scattered across my living room, two gallons of ice cream—one rocky road, because Hornsby thought it was appropriate, and the other cookies ’n cream—are almost entirely consumed, spoons just resting in the boxes now, and there are empty beer bottles all around the coffee table—not the light kind.

Posey is lying across the floor, a throw pillow under his head as he clutches his stomach. Hornsby is sitting next to me, licking his ice cream spoon, and Taters is pacing the living room, while Holmes hasn’t moved since he sat down.

“Did you really think Winnie would go behind your back to be with Josh? Seriously, dude?” Taters asks.

I drag my hand over my face. “No,” I groan. “But I didn’t trust Josh, I still don’t.”

“You say this as if you know him,” Taters says.

Posey glances at me, giving me a knowing look. Sighing, I say, “I do know him. He’s my half-brother.”

All the boys, besides Posey, turn toward me. Hornsby is the first to say something. “Your half-brother? Are you fucking serious with that shit?”

“Yes,” I say. “I thought I recognized Winnie. I couldn’t place her at first, but when I did, it was like everything clicked. The guy, who was a dick to her, who made her second-guess everything about herself. That was Josh.”

“Holy shit,” Hornsby mutters.

“Did you talk to him about it?” Holmes asks.

“He’s been trying to get in touch with me for a few weeks now. I think to tell me he had cancer. I don’t know, I’ve ignored his attempts. But we did share a text thread where he called me out for being with Winnie. He must have seen a picture on social media or something. Who fucking knows, but I told him he had no right to even talk about her after what he had done. He didn’t take it well, I guess in my mind, I thought he was trying to steal her back.”

“Jesus Christ,” Taters mutters. “That’s the stupidest piece of crap I’ve ever heard. Have you seen the way the girl looks at you? Nothing is going to change that, especially some lame attempt at a grocery store—if that is even what he was doing, which I doubt that it was.”

“I know,” I groan. “Fuck. I was in a shit headspace yesterday and when I saw them together, I just saw black, and no matter what, there was no way of getting me out of that headspace. Not until I watched Winnie walk out the door. By then, it was too late.”

“Never too late to chase after the girl,” Posey says, his voice pained from how much food he scarfed down.

“He’s right. Chasing after her would’ve been ideal,” Hornsby says. “Could’ve been like a movie.” He holds his arm out and says in a dramatic fashion, “No, don’t go. I—I love you.”

“You’re an asshole,” I say.

“No, he’s got a point,” Taters says. “Chasing after her would’ve been a very smart move.”

“Ideal,” Posey says.

“Well, I didn’t. So let’s drop it.” I reach for another beer but Hornsby swats my hand away.

“You’ve had enough. Plus, beer isn’t going to fix your problem. What you need is an action plan.”

“What?” I ask, completely exhausted from having to recount everything from yesterday and listening to the boys berate me for being a dumbass. I knew they liked Winnie, but I didn’t think they liked her this much.

“Wait.” Posey lifts his finger in the air. “We first need to ask him—does he want the girl back? That’s how this goes. I’ve seen it many times. Boy meets girl, boy falls for girl, boy is a jackass and loses girl, boy confides in bros and tells them what a jackass he is, then boy CONFESSES his need for girl, and boy creates action plan with bros to get girl back. We need the confession before we can move on.”