No Damaged Goods - Page 85

She opens her mouth to answer, but I don’t let her.

“We should go.” I flick a narrow-eyed look at my brother. “I’m her ride home.”

Holt’s brows rise slowly. He just gives me a long look, his smile changing, turning sly, dark, as if to say two words that make me want to smash his face in.

Challenge accepted.

“Are you?” he asks softly, nearly purring, mocking and low.

I growl in the back of my throat, my tongue feeling thick.

But now it’s Peace who cuts me off, her eyes flashing as she glares up at me with her mouth firming.

“Actually,” she says, “I’ll be staying a bit to talk chords with Ember. I think I need some more coffee to clear my head anyway.” She flashes us both a tight, hard-edged smile. “So I’ll say goodnight, gents. Blake, you can find your own way home.”

Before she turns away, her shoulders stiffen. Then she tosses her hair and weaves her way through the crowd toward where Ember’s relocated herself at the coffee bar, talking to Felicity.

Leaving me standing there like the jolly green jackass I am.

What the fuck was I thinking, barging in like this? Getting so jealous?

Acting like I have any right to be possessive?

Fuck, even if she was mine, I just made a huge swinging dick of myself.

My fists clench. Closing my eyes, I sigh.

“Way to go, Blake,” Holt mocks. “I see you still have a sweet way with the ladies.”

“Don’t.” I open my eyes, fixing him with a hard look. “Not in the mood for your bullshit.”

I need to get the hell out of here.

“Watch yourself,” I warn him. “Because I’m watching you.”

Then I turn and walk away, shoving the door to the café open hard enough to make the bell jingle wildly.

The cold air is a slap in the face, punishment for everything.

Mostly, how I took a beautiful moment and turned it ugly.

All because I don’t trust my brother, and I can’t keep that old buried resentment under control.

I know it ain’t really him I’m mad at. Not even after everything he did with Abby. Not even my present suspicions about him and the fires, either.

It’s Ma.

But Holt’s here.

Ma ain’t.

And I can’t quite let go of the way we grew up.

* * *

Many Years Ago

I don’t think I’ve slept in a week.

Been too busy studying. Getting my shit together.

I’m gonna graduate at the top of my class.

Well, not quite. I’m not even going to be second in class.

I ain’t dumb, but I ain’t Albert Einstein either, and sometimes I don’t wanna do homework.

But I’m gonna at least pull off straight As for this semester, ’cause that looks real good on transcripts when I’m applying to college.

And if I get those straight As, maybe Ma will…

I don’t know.

Cut the fucking umbilical?

Damn, did I ace my finals. I know I did. I’m just waiting for the scores to come through while I get ready for graduation—checking in homeroom every day, looking for that report card. Being a goody two-shoes.

Hell, I even turned down taking Sally Jenkins to the dance because even though I like that girl so much, this whole idea’s got its hooks in me.

Maybe I’m losing it.

I just know when my homeroom teacher sends me home on the very last day of school for seniors, with my report card in my hand, I’m nearly beaming at the line of straight As.

And I go bursting into the house, calling “Ma? Ma! I got my report card!”

I don’t realize Holt’s already there, perched with a girl he’s so proud of because she could’ve belonged to me.

Not till I see him sitting on the sofa with Sally Jenkins, his arm around her waist, and she’s got her cute little shirt undone one extra button in the front even though Ma’s there, too.

Right there, fawning on Holt, stroking his hair while she looks at his report card. “You did so good, baby. Look at this, when you had all Cs—you even managed to get this one up to a B, son!”

A frigging B.

Holt’s almost flunked an entire semester, but she’s petting him like a smug cat over a single fuckin’ B.

And not even looking at me.

I step forward, offering her my report card.

“Ma,” I say breathlessly. “Look.”

It takes a few seconds for her to even see me.

And I know by now when she does that, it’s on purpose.

So it’ll cut deeper, harder.

So it’ll hurt more, and I’ll know she wants to make me feel invisible.

I feel Sally staring at me. Like I’m some pathetic weirdo, desperate for attention, and she’s just now seeing me and realizing she picked the right brother. Not this loser gawking at his ma, eyes wide and breathing hard.

Ma slowly lifts her head, looking at me with a sigh like I’m bothering her, the smile on her lips turning into a tired grimace.

Tags: Nicole Snow Romance
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