Page 142 of Text Me Baby One More Time

My palms are sweaty,knees weak, arms are heavy—but I most definitely do not have my mom’s spaghetti vomit on my sweater, especially considering she’s still pretty fucking pissed at me.

I rub my hands down my jeans for the millionth time. My nerves are absolutely shot right now, and I can’t bring myself to do anything other than stand around like a moron.

The door in front of me swings open.

“How long are you going to stand out here? You’re starting to creep out my neighbors. Janet called to tell me there’s a ‘strapping young man looking ready to faint’ on my front porch. Since I’m not about to perform CPR on your ass and I’m too goddamn stubborn to call 911, why don’t you just come in already?”

Zach stands before me, brows furrowed and jaw set with anger.

This is going to be fun.

He steps aside, waving me into his home for the first time in…well, way too fucking long for siblings who live in the same town half the year.

“Thanks, man,” I say as I step over the threshold.

“Take your shoes off.”

He leaves me standing in the foyer feeling unwelcome and awkward as hell.

See? It’s already fun.

As I’m toeing off my shoes, an all-white pygmy goat wearing Ryan GoslingHey Girljammies and a diaper comes running up to me, butting his head against my shin in a way that almost hurts.

“Knock it off, you little shit.”

“He’s a really good judge of character.”

I glance up to see Delia making her way down the hall. She has a small smile playing on her lips, but I know it’s not for me.

My right cheek begins to tingle when I see her, and I know that’s just the permanent reminder of the slap she gave me when Caleb dragged me to her apartment to “apologize”. We both knew back then it wasn’t much of an apology, but she let it slide anyway. I don’t get how she let me off so easily because I deserved so much worse, and she deserved so much better than that half-assed apology I gave her.

Why am I just now realizing this?

“Yeah,” I say. “I can see that.”

“Leave him be, Marshy.” She bends down and scoops up the goat then drops him off in a bed set up beside the stairs. “You can follow me.”

I trail behind her as she leads us into the kitchen, where Zach is moving around the space like it’s his domain.

“We’re having personal pizzas for dinner. Hope you brought your own.”

“Zachary!” Delia chides.

“Sorry, not sorry,” my brother mumbles, pulling open the fridge and grabbing two bottles of water.

He hands one to Delia and pops open the other for himself, not offering me anything.

Yep. Fun, fun, fun.

“I’m guessing you’re here because Denver found out about you fucking over my girl.” Zach takes a swig of his water then pushes out one of those obnoxious exaggeratedaahs. “Here to kiss some ass and show her you’re not a total tool?”

I slide into a chair at their granite-topped island, take my cap off my head, and then scrub a hand through my hair.

“At first, yeah, I was only coming here for her, but then I saw Delia in the hallway and my cheek started tingling like it always does when she’s around.”

“Slapped ya that good, huh?”

“You did,” I tell her. “And it reminded me of that shitty apology I gave you back then and how I never truly gave you a real one, the kind you deserved. If I were coming here for Denver, it would be the exact same thing again. So, no, I’m not here for her—or for me, for that matter. I’m here for you, Delia.”

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