“Roddy’s fiancé has a brother.”
Joe blocked access to my backpack, his large frame waiting expectantly. Held hostage by him and the script he seemed determined to follow, I groaned.
“Not interested.”
“But—”
“Even if Iwaslooking—which I’m not—the last thing I’m going to do while I’m home is entertain the idea of hooking up with thebride’sbrother.”
“He’s…cute.” He winced, like he knew exactly how painful this was for both of us but was determined to follow through with it anyway.
“Cute isn’t my type.”
Joe’s brow furrowed. “Huh,” he said, rather eloquently.
He dropped the subject.
Thank God.
I was drained enough already—from the drama of this whole damn trip—and I did not need to add “man troubles” to the mix.
I could hear the party that was raging in our backyard before I saw it. Frowning, I turned to Joe. “Mom went all out with the barbecue,” he said in explanation.
“Barbecue?”
“It’s a welcome-home-George-congrats-Roddy-party. To kick off the celebration.” He nudged me conspiratorially with one of his ginormous shoulders, nearly bowling me over.
I stumbled, trying not to fall flat on the pavement.
“Mom bought your favorite brand of pickles.”
My heart fluttered, light chasing away the shadows Brendon’s texts had left behind. “Oh.” I bit back a smile. Ilovedpickles. And no, that wasn’t aeuphemism.
Apparently, Joe had forgotten that I’d told him I would handle my own backpack. Because before I could catch my balance, the blond giant stopped blocking the trunk and pulled it out.
He didn’t give it to me.
Instead, he slung it over his shoulder, and I sighed, sulking after him as he headed toward the white wooden gate that separated the front from the backyard. Small butterflies flitted along the shrubbery. A tall, drooping maple tree cast a puddle of shade across the grass. Cricket song croaked somewhere in the bushes, the whistle of a summer breeze carrying it through the air.
Dodging a wayward grasshopper, I eyed my backpack distrustfully. I knew, realistically, Neil wasn’t going to jump out all on his own, but I was still truly terrified he’d make a second appearance.
I had to fight back the urge to reach out and yank the damn thing off of Joe’s back.
No one is going to open your bag without permission,I reassured myself.It’s fine.
“I’m assuming Roderick is already here?” I grimaced, glancing behind to check the house across the street. Just looking at it made my heart hurt. I’d grown up there as much as I’d grown up inside my own childhood home. Roderick and I had been friends for far longer than we’d dated. It felt strange to look at his home through the lens of thirty-three-year-old George.
I didn’t want Roderick. Not anymore.
That wasn’t a pain I still carried.
“Yep.” Joe said. “Is that weird?”
It was definitely weird.
“No,” I replied as we finally reached the gate. “Why would it be weird?”
Joe leveled me with a look that made it clear he thought I was being an idiot.