Page 162 of Really Truly Yours

He nods slowly. “Sam mentioned you.”

“Did your brother also happen to mention that Sydnee doesn’t want to see you?”

A flash of pain stirs in his eyes. But he juts his chin. “Who’s he?”

I incline my head. “This is my brother.”

Uncertainty bordering on fear settles in his features. Uh-huh. He needs to consider his next move very carefully.

“Where is Sydnee?” I take a step. “You better not have her cornered in there.” Can’t let it show, but my world pauses for his answer.

Anger spits through his expression, but almost as quickly gives way to dejection. Resignation, at the least.

Not buying it. Can’t afford to, and it doesn’t matter. This loser isn’t getting anywhere near my Sydnee.

“I don’t know where she is. Been waiting here a couple hours.”

“Did Sam drop you off?” Because if he did, he’s hearing from me next.

Max shakes his head. “I walked over myself. He told me she was out of town, and I guess I’m starting to believe him.”

Score one point for Sam. Maybe he warned Sydnee off. “So you’re here even though you know you’re not welcome?”

“I gotta talk to her!”

My face feels like steel. “No, you don’t. It’s time to play by her rules.”

He takes a drawn-out look at me. “You two really are dating.” He dashes his head. “Wow.”

“We’re more than dating. We’re getting married.” Oh, really?

I swear I catch a sharp intake of air from my unflappable big brother on guard duty over my shoulder. Yeah, okay, that flew off my tongue a touch precipitously, but it was also the result of many recent thoughts happening to coalesce, balling into a pearl of truth I long to be reality.

Max’s eyes bug. “No way.”

I cock my knee and my chin. “You got a problem with that?”

The heartbeat of quiet lasts only a second. “No. I’m happy for her. She needs someone.”

“Not really. She’s smart and tough as nails.”

He nods only once but appears sincere.

“Seems life has required that of her.” I make it a personal dig with the launch of an eyebrow.

His countenance caves. “She’s told you stuff.”

“You better believe she has.” Not nearly enough, though. We’ve barely scratched the surface of each other’s lives. I mean to change that.

If she’ll let me. Please, God, let her let me.

He pleads with his eyes and hands. “I was messed up then. You’ve gotta believe me. I wasn’t thinking straight. If I had been, I wouldn’t have done it. I’d never want her hurt!”

The guy’s almost convincing. “Not what I heard. I heard you practically made a profession out of giving her a hard time.”

He digs his fingers into his hair, then drops his hands. “That’s fair. I was a jerky big brother.”

“Even before the drugs?” I want to hear the truth from his own lousy lips.

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