Page 39 of Caught Up In You

But I can’t complain. The rent is cheap, and when hedoesmanage to finish a project, it always turns out spectacularly. Like the outdoor kitchen with a gas grill, flat top, brick oven, and weatherproof sixty-five-inch television with surround sound.The first time he grilled steaks while we watched the Cubs opening day, I forgave him for all the early mornings he woke me up hammering on the wall outside my bedroom.

But when he does things like turning the water off without telling me, I get testy.

“Where’s the water, dude?” I ask, kicking the sole of his dirty work boot. “And also your costume? We’re supposed to leave in ten.”

Felix gives whatever tool he’s holding a final twist, then slides across the partially stripped wood floor of our kitchen.

“Needed to fix this leak, so I shut off the water. But it’s fine now, so I can turn it back on.” He wipes his hands on a rag and looks up at me. “Good look, Goose.”

“I’m Maverick,” I scoff. “Goose dies. What the hell are you?”

My twin brother is wearing a pair of jeans, a plaid pearl-snap shirt, and dusty, beat-up old work boots.

Which is what he wears every day to the jobsite.

“I’m the guy fromFootloose. Kevin Bacon?”

I roll my eyes. “Kevin Bacon is the actor. And that’s a weak costume, bro. Those are your regular clothes.”

Felix shrugs. “You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it. Going to be kind of hard to drag Wyatt Hart to the janitor’s closet when you’re wearing a onesie.”

“It’s a flight suit,” I say, glancing down at my costume. “And don’t talk about Wyatt like that.”

Felix’s eyes shoot up at the heat in my tone.

“’Sup, Goose,” Dan says as he strolls into the kitchen.

“I’m Maverick!” I tap the patch on my chest where I wrote it out in Sharpie. “Where’s your costume?”

Dan is wearing his usual crisp black suit, tailored within an inch of its life. The only variation on his usual workwear is the blue-and-white-striped dress shirt, paisley tie, and matching suspenders.

“This is my costume,” he grunts. “I’m Gordon Gecko. FromWall Street.”

“You guys have no sense of fun,” I grumble.

“What the hell are you two supposed to be?” Archer, our oldest brother, booms as he walks in, studying Dan and Felix. He’s dressed as a ghostbuster in a light beige jumpsuit, complete with a homemade laser gun on his back.

“Sweet proton pack,” Felix says.

Archer spins to show off the blue and red lights that actually glow.

“Betsy made it,” he says, his grin wide, as it is whenever the twelve-year-old daughter of his beautiful next door neighbor comes up. She’s become the joy of my brother’s life these last few months. “That kid is so fucking creative, unlike you jokers.Footlooseand Gordon Gecko? Snooze.”

And then, without breaking eye contact, he holds up a hand and silently high-fives me.

“Where are Betsy and Madeline, anyway?” Felix asks.

“They’re meeting us there. Betsy wanted her costume to be a surprise.”

“You guys are hanging out again?” I ask. The last time I drove by, I noticed that the BMW that’s been in Madeline’s driveway the last few weeks has disappeared.

Archer shifts in his work boots. “Same as always,” he replies, and before I can pepper him with more questions, he raises his eyebrow. “You hanging out with Wyatt Hart?”

Archer and I glare at each other.I’ll show you mine if you show me yours, he’s saying silently.

Not a chance in hell, I reply with my eyes.

“Good talk,” I finally say.

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