“Nothing to worry about, Mike.” Kaleb tried to play the disagreement off, but his voice remained tight. “No harm, no foul. No strings.”
“I know.” Michael stood, his tone challenging. I wanted to cover his mouth with my hands. Something told me I didn’t want to be within a ten-mile radius if they started fighting. “It’s like all your relationships. Hit-and-run.”
“Watch it.” Kaleb’s gaze darted in my direction again as he stood and took a step toward Michael. “I don’t need a big brother or a babysitter.”
“You did last night.”
Jumping between them was as smart as jumping into the middle of a cage match, but I did it anyway, putting a hand on each of their chests. Even in the heat of the moment I had to appreciate the muscle tone of both.
“Stop!” My voice broke, so I tried again. “Stop! I know you don’t really want to do this, either one of you. Quit acting like babies.”
It had been my experience that accusing a boy of being a baby was as effective as throwing a bucket of water on the Wicked Witch of the West. Just as she did after the Scarecrow took aim, the tension melted. Michael sat back down, and Kaleb dropped into the desk chair. Placing one arm on the seat back, Kaleb eyed me. “Hey, bro, do you think you can put Shorty back on her chain?”
I stepped forward with my hands on my hips, only slightly intimidated to find Kaleb almost eye level with me when he was seated and I was standing.
“First of all, no one is the boss of me but me. Secondly, if you ever reference my ‘chain’ again, I will kick your ass.” I jabbed him hard in the chest with my finger. Possibly breaking it. “And thirdly, don’t call me Shorty.”
Kaleb sat silently for a second, his eyes wide as he looked at Michael. “Where did you find her? Can you get me one?”
I blew out a loud, frustrated sigh and dropped down beside Michael, who didn’t even try to hide his smile. “You should probably apologize to Emerson.”
“I am sorry.” Kaleb grinned at me. “Sorry I didn’t meet you first.”
Chapter 33
I don’t want anything!”
The three of us had relocated to the kitchen. Michael peered into the fridge, trying to find something Kaleb would eat. Kaleb responded by putting his face down on the table and covering his head with his arms, only peeking out occasionally to look at me and smile. He definitely had charm.
In spades.
“I’m sure Nate wouldn’t mind sharing a half dozen or so of his eggs. Oh yum, you know what would settle your stomach? Baaaacon.” Michael drew the word out as he opened the package and waved it in our direction, smiling widely.
Kaleb let out a groan as the scent wafted over to the table. Michael winked at me as if I were his coconspirator. I envied the level of comfort between the two of them, especially after a fight that almost came to blows.
I realized that I was comfortable here, too. I looked at Michael, still digging around in the fridge, and at Kaleb beside me. It felt right. They felt right. I hadn’t come here expecting to find a place to belong.
Team Freak. Wonder if we could get jerseys.
The warm feeling of camaraderie faded a little bit when I reflected on the truth. Michael didn’t know everything, not really. If he discovered what my life was like four years ago … it hadn’t been a life. It had barely been an existence.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Ava swung around the corner into the kitchen, her stilettos hitting the hardwood like tiny hammers tapping the floor. She made brief eye contact with me, offering a tight smile before she turned her attention elsewhere.
“Michael?” Ava asked impatiently.
He jumped before pulling his head out of the refrigerator. “Ava. How are you this morning?”
“We need to firm up our Thanksgiving plans.” She’d yet to acknowledge Kaleb. “I want to book our flight to L.A. Assuming you’re going to accept my invitation?”
Michael looked as nervous as a deer caught in the headlights of a semitruck hauling hazardous waste. “We already talked about that.”
“No, we didn’t.” She frowned, looking genuinely confused.
“It was a couple of days ago. I told you I don’t—”
“Just come upstairs, and we’ll look at flight schedules. If you’re done with”—she waved her hand in the general direction of the table—“that.”
Kaleb smirked. “Oh, if you need him, Ava, I’m sure he’s ‘all done’ with me. Michael, make sure you wash your hands before you spread any of my cooties to the Sh—Ava.”
Ava cut her eyes around to Kaleb, tilting her head in a challenge. “Drunk,” she said.
“Shrew,” he replied.
“Kids!” Michael held up his hands in a T shape. “Time out.”
Ava shot Kaleb a dirty look and left the kitchen. Michael followed.
He didn’t look back.
“Why don’t you tell her how you really feel?” I asked Kaleb when they were gone.
“I have from the beginning.” Kaleb put his arms on the table and propped his chin on his fist, gazing at me. “Kind of like I’m about to tell you that I might be in love with you.”
“Really?” I laughed. “Because of all of our deep conversations and the quality time we’ve spent together? Or was it just love at first sight?”
“Something like that,” he said, teasing.
I thought.
I lost myself in his eyes for a second. When I realized he was waiting for me to say something, I cleared my throat. “So do you have nicknames for everyone? Shorty, Mike … the Shining?”
“I guess Mike told you the backstory on that one?”
I nodded, and his grin spread across his face slowly, like honey dripping from a comb. I bet he was used to girls staring. I wonder if he always enjoyed it as much as he appeared to be right now.
“I have nicknames for the people I love and the ones I love to hate.”
I wondered if there was some deep, hidden significance to “Shorty.” “And Ava’s on the hate list.”
“We’ve never gotten along.” Kaleb’s smile disappeared. He slid his arms across the table and leaned his head toward mine. “Maybe because something inside her seems off, and I can’t get past it. She doesn’t even know how she feels half the time.”
“You’d know, right?” I returned. “I hope you don’t mind. Michael told me. About your ability.”
“I don’t mind. I know all about you. It’s only fair you should know about me, I guess.” He sat up, the moment of intimacy broken. “No big.”
“You don’t know everything about me.”
“I’d love to hear it all,” he said, playing our conversation off as casual, flirty. I didn’t bite.
“I don’t know about that. The road to where I am now was … rough. But I’ll give you the details. If you’re interested.”
Uncertainty clouded Kaleb’s eyes as the mood shifted. Staring out the window over the kitchen sink, he said, “I’m listening.”
“My parents died in an accident right after I started seeing rips. I was committed to an institution because I let it slip to a grief counselor that I thought I was seeing dead people. Oh, and also because I lost it so completely in the school cafeteria that my best friend had to carry me to the nurse.” I gauged his reaction, wondering how much I could tell him. “No one knew what to do with me, so they drugged me into oblivion.”
