Page 22 of Double Trouble

My heart stops dead in my chest, my breath wheezing out of me. “W-what?” I manage to croak out. Pete puts his hand up subtly, for only me to catch.

“I’m only saying it’s an option if you make it a safe place for her.”

Dad nods, and Mom takes a large gulp of her water. I swivel my eyes around the table to each of my family members. This is some kind of joke, right? But Dad’s considering, Pete is calm and cool in his betrayal toward me, Mom’s eating and ignoring, just like she always does, and Dem…

I thought Dem would snap a no out right away. I thought she’d put a halt in that option, too. But she stays eerily quiet, biting at her bottom lip, refusing to look my way.

My stomach starts to digest everything at this table. Not the meal, since I haven’t put a bite inside me. But the conversation, the idea of Demi moving back to Mom and Dad’s, Pete moving out, and me living by myself for the first time in my life.

And I don’t want that. I want them under my roof, safe and cared for and loved. I want to wrap them both in my arms and refuse to let them go. And I want them to trust that I can provide for them.

Pete’s rambling off the list of things Dad has to prove before Demi even considers moving back. I let the conversation roll around in my head and try to picture the life I’d have without Demi. Every scenario leaves me empty and heartbroken.

“Dem,” I say, interrupting Pete and Dad. I clear my throat, my voice raspy from being caged for so long. “Is that what you want? To move back here?”

It couldn’t possibly. She’s happy with Pete and me, isn’t she?

Dem finally looks up, but she still doesn’t meet my eyes. No, her gaze is on Pete, and a block of dread plummets to my belly.

“Yes.”

Today is the day.

Really, it is.

I’m gonna tell Brink that I love her.

I slam the overhead lights on in the Wheel Zone, and they buzz like they’re tired and want to go back to bed. Candace did her rounds tonight, checking in on me at ten o’clock when she saw the lights on still. I made a show of switching them all off and pretending to leave, then I ducked inside when she went to close out the manager’s office.

The lights take about ten minutes to get to their normal brightness, so I fidget, tilting my weight from one foot to the other while I wait for the knock on the back door.

I had a plan earlier, and I realized that when I have a plan, it all goes to shit. I put some feelers out there in the form of a super vague text when I really just wanted to ask outright,hey, you wanna go on a date later?I had the brilliant idea to take her to Riverside Park, which is skater’s heaven and only open for a couple more weeks. It’s a few hours’ drive, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. I know I don’t.

Instead, she unknowingly rejected my non-existent offer, and I picked up a shift so I could see her tonight. Josh was more than happy to trade.

My phone pings, and a nervous-slash-excited leap goes through my gut at her name on my screen. She’s here, and now I get about two hours of opportunity to blurt it out.

Should I do it right away or wait? Hmm… If she says no, that’ll be a nice way to torture myself. But if I sit with it, that’s another great method of torture. If she says yes, I’ll be completely useless.

Better stick with the torture I’m familiar with.

I press the door open, the clang of the handle echoing in the night. Mad is a freaking rock star, her board settled in the crook of her arm, her helmet hung haphazardly on her mess of hair. But her eyes are puffy… again. She offers me a forced grin, and my smile fades immediately.

“You okay?”

Her forced grin drops, and she shakes her head. “Not really.”

If I was a brave enough person, I’d reach out and hold her. I used to be that guy, but that guy died a while ago. Now I’m stuck with the twitch of my fingers, wanting to reach out to hers.

I take a deep breath and scratch at the back of my head where my baseball cap meets my hair. “You want to board it out or talk it out? I’m up for either.”

A laugh falls from her lips, so softly it’s a whisper in the wind. Her red, puffy eyes lift to meet mine. “Board. Then talk.”

I give her a solitary nod. “Sounds good to me.” I step back and let her inside, the lights still struggling to turn onto full power, but that doesn’t stop her from tightening her helmet strap and rolling her board back and forth with her foot against the smooth floor.

“I brought my GoPro,” she says, diving into the pocket of her ragged jean shorts. The fringe from her light blue tank top hangs over her bare stomach, and I catch the faintest glimpse of her very toned muscles. “Can you help hook it to my helmet?”

“Uh… maybe.” I laugh at myself, eyeing the camera. I film a lot, but I’ve never been so lucky to have one of these. “Does it just hook on, or…?”

---