Irreparably Broken (Irreparable 1)

I glance down at his black shorts with neon yellow smiley faces on them, and raise my eyebrows. “I’m thinking you’re not meeting any ladies in those shorts. Seriously, Tug, those things are loud.”

Chin in the air, he grins proudly. “The clothing fits the man.”

“Well, I can’t argue that one, little brother.”

Once the skis are latched down and secure, we load a cooler full of food and beer – mostly beer – and put it in the bed of my truck. Tug directs me out of the driveway and then climbs in.

As we drive to Jesse’s, I’m reminded of how much Tug talks. We used to call him “Jabber Jaws,” and now I remember why. He talks about school, his friends, girls, and, hell, he even talks about rocks. While his rambling is endless, it’s nothing terribly annoying until he brings up our mother. “What’s the deal with you and Mom?”

White-knuckling the steering wheel, I inhale long and deep – reminding myself that Tug doesn’t know anything – and choose my words carefully. “The deal, Tug, is I’m not living up to Mom’s plan as quickly as she’d like me to. You know how she is.”

His hand lands on my shoulder and he shakes it. “You’re as bad at lying as Mom.”

I loosen my grip on the wheel, and laugh. “And you’re as nosy as Liv.” He laughs now too. “It’s not a big deal, and it honestly does have to do with what she thinks I should be doing with my life. The problem’s the part where I disagree with her.”

He looks as though a light has gone on, and I mentally give myself props for my choice of wording. “You disagreed with Mom? Wow! Bro, you’ve got some giant elephant-size balls.”

Since I owe him one for this morning anyway, I reach across the seat to sock him in the arm.

Chapter 9

Tori

After Liv spent hours on the phone talking with the newest object of her affection, we finally start our pampering. Once we’ve finished soaking and filing, it’s time for polish. I decide on a French manicure, and of course Liv goes with neon pink. I pick up the bottle of clear polish and twist the top off.

Liv paints the glowing pink color across her big toe, her chin resting on her knee. “You know, if Tug is driving you crazy, I can talk to him about it.”

She’s worried, and I have to reassure her I’m fine with Tug and his constant innuendos. “Are you kidding? I love Tug to death. Besides, if he stops asking me out all the time, I’ll be offended. Or at least my ego will be.”

She shakes her head and makes a puke face. “As sick as you sound right now, I’m relieved to hear it.”

“Do you remember when we were little and Tug used to run around the house in his Spiderman Underoos with a cape around his neck, yelling, ‘I’ll save you, girls. Spidey to the rescue’? He’s always been hilarious.”

“Correction, he’s always been a dork, but you just gave me a delightfully evil idea.” She rises to her feet, and walks on her heels so as not smudge the polish on her toes. She leaves the room and returns a minute later with a box of photos. She sits down next to me, then lifts the lid, and starts shuffling through the box. “There is a picture of Spidey-Tug in here somewhere. That’s total blackmail material. I have to find it.”

“That’s awful, Liv.”

Both her eyebrows raise, and she snorts out laughter. “No, it’s ammunition. I won’t do anything with it unless he pushes my buttons.”

Poor Tug, he’s doomed. She should just plaster it all over the Internet now. I’m positive the next time the two of them talk, he’ll push at least one of her buttons. “Be nice. He’s a good brother.”

She laughs and picks up a few photos.

There are a lot of her with her family. Some of them are much older, her parents as children. I spot a photo of her mom with her arm around another woman. They look to be high school age. The woman with Mrs. Hunter is striking, with the most intriguing green eyes that light up the photo. “Who is this with your mom?” I pick up the photo, and stare at the woman before turning the photo so Liv can see. “She’s beautiful.”

Liv looks at her hands, and her face scrunches up. She takes the photo from my hand and smiles at it endearingly. “This is my Aunt Mona.” The tone in her voice is sad and apprehensive.

“Your mom’s sister?” She nods. “I never knew she had siblings.”

“Just Mona. She died before I was born. From what I understand, my mom was devastated. She doesn’t like to talk about Mona. I’ve asked about her before, and my mom is vague. I can tell it’s painful for her, so I don’t push it.”

Liv and I are not blood-related, but I can understand Mrs. Hunter’s pain. I’d be a mess if anything ever happened to Liv. “I’m sure it’s hard for her.”

“It is. The only thing I know about her I learned from my dad. I brought the photo to him once when Mom wasn’t home and asked a few questions. He told me Mona was three years older than my mom. They’re half-sisters. My mom has a different father. Mona’s father was killed in a car accident, and my grandmother married my grandfather a year later. My dad said Mom and Mona were extremely close, and Mona put my dad through the third degree when he and my mother first met. That’s about all I know. I’d like to know more about her, but not enough to hurt my mom by bringing it up.”

“Do you know if she had any children? Maybe you have cousins out there you could ask about her, since talking about her is too painful for your mom?”

“No. She was never married and doesn’t have any children.” Liv frowns and sets the photo aside. Her fingers flip through more photos in the box.