Page 6 of Home in the Country
“You busy?”
He pauses, and I know he’s debating if he can dodge my question. Fun fact? He can’t.
“Good. Pick me up in ten,” I say without giving him any more time to respond.
“Dude, it’s fucking pouring.”
“I’m well aware it’s pouring; I was just out in it.” I scrub a hand over my face and let out a tired breath. “I need to get out.”
He’s quiet for a long minute before responding.
“Fine, but I’m not carrying your drunk ass inside later.”
I snort. “Liar.”
He grumbles something under his breath and then hangs up. I almost smile. Sorren and I were never super close growing up. He’s a little older than I am and primarily hung out with Waylon growing up.
Sorren and his sister, Marlee, came to live with their grandparents—our neighbors—when they were still kids. Blood or not, they’ve always been family to me.
He’d joined the Marine Corps after Marlee started college, and he’d finally seemed settled. But an injury overseas, just a few years after extending his contract, had him being medically discharged. It had understandably changed him, and we’d all taken to looking out for him in different ways.
I usually dragged him with me to places he didn’t want to go. There was always a forty percent chance he’d have a decent time.
The roar of a truck sounds outside as I grab my keys, wallet, and phone. Why I need my keys is a mystery considering my twin brother, Case, and I never lock our door. It just isn’t done here. Still, it’s a habit over anything else.
Taking a breath, I run through the rain and throw myself inside the cab of the truck.
“Why do you have Waylon’s truck?”
“Because I don’t want you ruining my nice pristine leather.” Honestly, I can’t even blame him. I wouldn’t want me in that car either.
“You know Waylon has boned your sister in here, right?”
“You seriously want me to leave you in a ditch somewhere?”
“Just sayin’.”
He studies me. “You look like shit.”
“Shut up.”
His lips twitch as we turn out of the driveway and onto the road. We ride in silence. Sorren isn’t particularly chatty and that suits me just fine. Usually, I’d keep a running commentary of anything to fill the space, but I just don’t have it in me right now.
My world has been knocked off its fucking axis, and I don’t know how to make it right. I need answers, but that’s going to have to wait.
Sorren heads out of town in the direction of Blackstone Falls, and I’m grateful that he knows I don’t need an audience tonight.
“I heard Colt went to visit Rhea last time he was in town. He’s a cool dude; I wonder if he asked her out.”
I really shouldn’t be such a dick, but I want to see his reaction. Since Waylon and Marlee got married, Sorren has been increasingly protective of Rhea—like his focus shifted from his sister to mine.
I’m dying to know if it’s platonic or if there’s something else going on. His jaw clenches but that’s pretty standard, especially if he’s aggravated. I’ll have to try harder next time.
Instead of answering, Sorren pulls into a parking spot and turns off the truck.
“Are you going to be like this all night?” he asks like he knows I’m intentionally aggravating him.
“Probably.” It’s fun and I need the distraction.
