Page 89 of There's No Us Without You
I blink slowly at him. “Ever?”
“Nope.”
“Not even Will?”
He shakes his head. “Not even Will.”
Blowing out a breath, I sink against the couch, taking in what Tyler just said. That’s so sad—almost as sad as him never having tried home-made pizza until the other night, or Emerson never eating Pop-Tarts. Even me and my mum have shared anI love you—usually after she’s insulted me for the tenth time in five minutes.
“Sorry, Ty. That . . . that’s really sad.”
“I don’t know any different,” he says, scratching his forehead. “I’m doing okay. I just wish my brother would see that I’ve changed and I’m not the dickhead I was a couple of years ago.”
I squeeze Tyler’s hand resting on my thigh. “He’ll come around.”
“Yeah . . . maybe. Your turn.”
Right.
“Well—”
Jayden comes barrelling over to us, his mop of dark hair stuck to his sweaty forehead.
“What are you two talking about?” He squeezes himself between Tyler and me, resting his arms on the back of the couch behind our heads.
“Not a lot,” Tyler says, wrinkling his nose. “Why do you smell like you’ve been swimming in a pool full of alcohol?”
Jayden grins and wiggles his eyebrows. “Sculling contest. I won, of course.”
Tyler shakes his head. “I fucking told you to go easy tonight, Jay.”
“Yeah, well, you haven’t been around much to stop me.” Jayden closes his eyes and rests his head on Tyler’s shoulder.
This feels a little personal. Is Jayden the person Tyler is sticking around here for?
Tyler shrugs Jayden off him and stands abruptly. “Don’t be a fucking child,” he says while shoving his friend. “Come on, Eden.” He holds out his hand and nods towards the kitchen. “Let’s go get me fucked up.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Will
When I arrive homethat night, Emerson is on one couch, the Xbox controller in his hands as he concentrates on the TV in front of him. Carter is on the opposite couch, a can of coke between his legs as he leans forward, elbows on his knees, his bottom lip caught between his teeth—also concentrating on theTV. He hasn’t blinked once in the time it’s taken for me to get from the front door to the kitchen.
Every time Emerson darts to the side, following the direction of the movement on the screen, Carter does the same. There are even grunts and curse words to match.
Fucking children.
“Motherfucker.” Emerson drops the controller on the cushion next to him before throwing himself against the back of the couch and raking his hands through his hair. “I was so close . . . so fucking close.”
Carter snorts. “You suck.” While getting up to snatch the controller, he shoves Emerson’s shoulder. “Let me show you how it’s done, big boy.”
“Remember who you’re talking to.”
Carter gives him the finger. “Please. We aren’t on the field, de Silva.”
Emerson shrugs. “Worth a try.”
“Did you get beaten by a six-year-old again?” I say, throwing Carter a quick wink as I place a few grocery bags on the bench and begin to unpack them.
