Yeah, right. Unlikely story.
Air rushes from my lungs when I manage to escape the house unscathed. I glance at the sports watch adorning my wrist. If we’re lucky, we can take off and head back to school in about an hour.
The only problem will be finding a way to break it to Lucus that his new hero wasn’t serious about the football tickets. Ugh. I really wish he hadn’t thrown out the offer. Brayden has no idea that this will be all my brother talks about for the next couple of weeks. When he ends up forgetting and ultimately not delivering on his promise, Lucus will be devastated.
That’s the thing about my brother. If you tell him you’re going to do something, you damn well better follow through with it. Don’t dole out empty promises just to shut him up or impress him, because it’ll only cause more damage in the long run.
I glance around the basketball court, relieved to find that Mom is holding Caden and is now embroiled in a conversation with Juliette.
When Brayden’s gaze catches mine, I hold up both bottles. He says something to Lucus before patting him on the shoulder, and then they’re both heading in my direction. My brother is pink-cheeked as his chest rises and falls with labored breaths. There’s a happy light filling his eyes. No matter how I try to steel myself against it, everything inside me softens.
If there’s a quick way to my heart, it’s through Lucus.
Even though I’m eighteen months younger than my brother, I’ve taken on the role of protective sister. I’ve spent years watching out and sticking up for him. What I learned at an early age is that kids can be real assholes. Especially in middle and high school. There were at least a dozen times when I ended up in the principal’s office for getting into a fight. If some jerks were going to pick on Lucus, then they could expect to get their asses kicked.
The first couple of times it happened, my parents tried to convince me that I shouldn’t let my classmates make me so angry. But what did they expect me to do? Stand idly by and listen to these assholes spew crap? With four older brothers and one with a genetic disorder, you learn to stand up for yourself and not take shit from anyone. It’s the not taking shit part that gets me into trouble to this very day.
Regardless of how old I am, I’ll always stick up for my family. Especially when they aren’t strong enough to do it for themselves. That kind of loyalty extends to my friends. Once a person burrows beneath my skin and into my heart, I’ll defend them to the death. That’s just how I roll. Demi can attest to that.
Brayden points toward a bottle. “I hope one of those is for me.”
Knocked from my thoughts, I blink back to the present before thrusting a plastic container at him. That familiar zip of energy buzzes through me as our fingertips brush. I quickly draw away and shift my attention toward my brother before holding out the second one.
“Are you thirsty?” I ask.
He nods before wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Then he twists off the cap and guzzles down every last drop. Brayden and I stand by and watch with amused expressions.
“I need another water,” he says, sounding winded.
“Sure. There’s more in the fridge.”
Lucus nods before taking off without another word, leaving me to stand alone with Brayden in the driveway. It doesn’t take long for awkwardness to descend, and I find myself shifting my stance, racking my brain for something to fill the growing void.
Brayden’s gaze stays locked on mine as he takes another drink. Once he finishes, he says, “If I had realized I’d be playing basketball all afternoon, I would have worn athletic shorts and a T-shirt. Or at least brought a change of clothes.”
Whatever tension had been swirling through the air, ratcheting up in intensity, thankfully dissipates.
My teeth sink into my lower lip as I survey his appearance. I almost feel bad—the guy really is a sweaty mess. Albeit a handsome, sweaty mess. Even with the slight wind that wafts over us, his hair is damp. Bits and pieces of it stick to his forehead. The urge to run my fingers through it and push the dark strands away from his eyes thrums through me.
Instead of giving in to the impulse, I tighten my fingers and force my gaze away. “Thanks for playing with my brother. I can tell that he’s having fun.”
He steps toward me, swallowing up some of the distance between us. My attention skitters back to him only to realize that I have to crane my neck to meet his steady gaze.