Page 94 of Bring You Back

“Same.”

A silent laugh hits my stomach, but dies as quick as it comes. That word. Her touch. The shared smiles, even though we can barely see them—it all hits me at once, and I feel it, that ache returning, and I know. The bruises Camille left me with are just bruises. They can heal. I can heal. We can heal.

But the thing they don’t tell you about healing … it hurts, too.

“AHA!”

A figure collides into my door, rocking the Jeep, and Camille and I practically jump out of our skin. Banks’s laughter carries through the closed window as he doubles over, his head popping in and out of view with a few finger points in his fit.

“I swear to God,” Camille says, threatening, as Banks rights himself and presses his face to the glass with a sly grin.

“Isn’t this romantic,” he teases, and I realize my hand is still holding Camille’s. They’re now raised in the air, on display, the scare having made us hold tighter. We share a quick look as reality hits, then we break apart. She’s out the door first, but I’m right behind her, shoving Banks back with mine.

“What the fuck, man?” I watch Camille storm off to the house with a sigh.

“Me?You were looking mighty cozy in there,” he continues to tease, bending to look through the window again. “Is Blondie hiding in there, too?” He starts to laugh at his joke, but my smack cuts him off, and he springs back up with an “Ow!”

“We weren’t doing anything,” I declare in a stern effort to get the words through his head so he doesn’t go say something to Reyna. Weweren’tdoing anything. Not anything worth having Banks running his mouth.

“I’m just saying,” he says, hands up. “I don’t hold hands with a girl likethat”—he smashes his fingers together—“until the bedroom.”

I chuckle despite myself. “So, immediately.”

He points at me. “Hey, I’m not judging. Unlike some people,” he adds on a mutter. “Do both, don’t do both, but if you’re doing both, you could at least let me have a shot at Blondie.” He smiles and waggles his brows, attempting to sway me, and I laugh. Of course this leads back to his infatuation with Reyna.

“You’re obsessed,” I state and his face goes flat.

“I’m notobsessed,” he denies, then waves me off. “Whatever. Bobby’s looking for you.”

I stare at him, stifling more laughter. He finally gets his cousin’s name right when he’s referring to my father. “Yeah? When’d he get in town?”

He looks at me likeI’mthe dumbass. “Dude, he’sbeenhere.”

I release my laughter as I make my way around him and to the house, Banks’s jovial feet behind me the whole way, his mouth running random questions. The last one registers when we reach the door.

“You ever swallow upside down? That shit’s no joke.”

I pause at the sound of my mom’s voice as Banks pushes into me to keep going.

“What made you do it? Telling our son—”

“Dude—”

I hush Banks as he tries to push past me, my ear reaching for more of my mother’s words.

“Eighteen years, Brent. And you tell himnow—”

“Dude, I gotta shit,” Banks hisses, giving me one last shove, but he doesn’t have to try very hard because I step as far away as possible as he rushes inside, effectively interrupting my parents’ conversation.

Why the fuck did my dad have to park behind me?

I walk in, stopping inside the door. My parents are already facing my direction, the island between them. I almost laugh at the sight. They probably wouldn’t mind having a real island between them.

My dad opens his mouth to speak, but none of us get to hear the words, because the grunts and groans of Banks’s shitting carries out from the guest room. That cake is being a pain in the ass.

“That kid,” Mom sighs at the sounds.

“Nice to see the two of you have made up,” Dad adds, and I focus on the movement of my feet as I leave to the hall to avoid laughing at his subtle sarcasm. I don’t want to miss him any more than I already do. “Julian.” I keep walking. “Hey.” He’s closer. “Iwantto talk to you—”

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