Page 128 of Really Truly Yours

“I’m saying that Sydnee isn’t used to your world.”

“I don’t see how that’s a problem.”

“Maybe the problem is her world.”

He’s getting at something.

“Has she told you much about her life? Her family?”

The should-be-easy question pokes like a sticker in the summer grass. “Some.”

He slants his jaw.

I lift my hands and let them plummet to my sides. “Okay, no. I wouldn’t call it a lot. We’re still getting to know each other. And I’m still not getting your point here.”

“My point is that she’s likely to have had drastically different life experiences than you, the kind of experiences that make a person vulnerable.”

I hike my chin. “I’d never hurt her.”

“The kinds of experiences I’m talking about do things to a person, Gray. Close them off. Send them into self-protection mode. You yourself called her prickly.”

For the first time, I’d like to slug this particular brother.

His chest puffs. “Hey, chill, dude. I’m not criticizing either one of you. I know you’d never intentionally hurt Sydnee. I’m only saying that I see some red flags.”

I let the lion’s share of fight slough away. The only thing I dislike about this brother of mine? He sees things. A gift from birth or a skill he learned the hard way and put to use for his job? “Did she say something?” I was so pumped about the win the other night I didn’t follow up.

“No.”

“Tripp?”

Sighing, he swipes his hand down the back of his head. “Nothing I can or will repeat. That’s up to her. It did get me thinking about what her life might have been like.”

A wave of jealousy crashes against the bank of brotherly love. I want Sydnee’s confidences.

“Look, man. It’s not like I’m warning you off or anything. What little I know of her I like. I see why she grabbed your attention. I just have this feeling in my gut that says handle with care. That’s all.”

Because in Sydnee he recognizes a wounded soul? A takes-one-to-know-one sort of thing?

“Her view of the world is likely not the one you have.”

His tone modulates again with a flicker of…envy? It’s escaped before. He paid for others’ sins for years before he got his break. I was taken from our home young and won the lottery, courtesy of a ticket I didn’t have to purchase.

I drop my rear to the comforter, the one I folded over to protect Avery’s décor from my well-traveled luggage. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened back then?”

He’s home early from work, I suspect with the sole purpose of speaking with me before I took off. His gaze drifts to the window. “You don’t want me to tell you, bro.”

“Yes. I do. I know you say you forgive Donny, but anyone can see it’s going to be a long haul. I guess that’s your business, but given the reality of the situation with Donny—our father—I think your attitude toward him affects me too.

A breeze scrapes a branch of shrubbery against the glass panes. At last, he saunters to the puffy easy chair in the corner and sits.

I don’t dare move a muscle in the uneasy air.

He cracks the knuckles on his left fist, then on to the right. “I suppose we’ve established that Donny wasn’t the worst of Mom’s boyfriends.”

Yes, this has been covered more than once, and in a way that autogenerates worst-case scenarios. Now, with the topic broached, my stomach and my heartrate respond accordingly. My brother’s pain is my pain.

His inhale is ragged. “All of them resented the presence of kids. The extra demands on Mom’s attention, the added drain on finances. Most were verbally abusive. A couple used fists, etcetera, etcetera.” Waving it off, he returns his focus to the street outside the glass. “One guy was a real perv. I was a kid, but I knew. Thankfully, he got picked up on outstanding warrants before anything came of that.”

---