Four Letter Word (Dirty Deeds 1)

“You seem better,” she whispered from beside me. “That’s good, Brian. Really good. I’m happy to see that.”

Shit.

I didn’t want to get into this. I never did. Especially not with Jenna.

I moved a little so I was ahead of her and kept my eyes to the living room when I spoke.

“Come on. Stop.”

“Stop what?” she asked, moving with me, fucking typical, only this time spinning when she reached my side again so she could look up at my face. “I’m just saying it’s good to see you laughing and smiling again. You should be laughing and smiling, Brian. None of it was your fault.”

I sat my can on the counter and rubbed my face with both hands, then kept avoiding her deeply compassionate eyes, which I knew she had on me, and remained staring into the living room when I replied.

“Not getting into this with you, Jen. Had a nice dinner with you and the kids and I’d like to leave here still thinking it was a nice dinner and not a pain in my ass ’cause you’re hitting me with this bullshit again. I don’t want to hear it.” Then I looked down at her to say, “You weren’t there. You don’t get to weigh in. And you’re wasting your breath anyway. We both know that.”

She touched my elbow, her cool fingers wrapping around it.

“I was just commenting on how nice it is seeing you this way again. I’ve missed it.” She bit her lip. “And I thought maybe you had come around to thinking what I know is to be true.”

“That’s not it,” I interrupted.

“Or,” she continued, letting go of my arm as the lip she was biting started twitching. “If maybe you’re happy because of something else …”

I raised my brows.

“Like?”

“Like, a girl maybe?”

Arms crossing over my chest, I moved my eyes up and over to the living room again, huffing out a breath.

“Oh, my God,” Jenna whispered.

“Not talking about this with you.”

She popped up on her toes and leaned closer, pointing at me.

“I don’t even care. You’re totally admitting to me right now there is a girl and she’s the one making you happy.”

I shook my head, but I did it smiling.

Big mistake.

“Brian!” she squealed, jumping up and down while gripping my biceps.

Oliver’s head popped up from in front of the couch.

“What’s going on?”

Olivia’s followed.

“Yeah, what’s going on in there?”

“Nothin’,” I answered, stepping back and out of Jenna’s grip, then swatting at her hand when she reached for me again.

Jenna smiled up at me, baring white teeth ready to sink in for the kill.

“Uncle Brian has a girlfriend and he loves her.”

I glared at my sister.

She smiled bigger.

“Never said that,” I growled.

“You smiled,” she shot back arrogantly with a cock of her hip. “And I didn’t miss it.”

“Cool,” Oliver muttered before sliding down the couch and disappearing again, the game on the TV unpausing.

“Super cool!” Olivia yelled, with a grin matching her mother’s. “She pretty?”

Jenna was nodding like she fucking knew the answer to that question.

It was time for me to go.

“I’ll see you guys later,” I called out as I made for the door, hoping I wouldn’t upset Olivia for ignoring her.

“Brian, wait!” Jenna yelled behind my back. “You’re still babysitting for me next week, right? I have that date.”

“Yeah, Uncle Brian!” Olivia shouted. “We’re coming over to play, remember?”

“Yeah, Liv,” I said, looking back at her and then turning to give Jenna a smile. “’Bout time, too.”

She scrunched up her nose and made a face.

After waving and saying my good-byes, I got into my Jeep and drove home, where I called my girl the second I cut the engine.

With her in my ear, I smiled some more.

And I let her have it.

Chapter Ten

SYDNEY

My mother used to tell me not to get comfortable being happy.

She said this a lot after Barrett died. To herself and to me, although I think it was mostly to herself when she would sit on the couch and stare off at nothing.

Don’t get comfortable being happy, she would say. It’ll only hurt worse when it’s gone.

I didn’t understand the truth to her statement then. My twelve-year-old mind couldn’t understand it. I just sat there and squeezed her hand or pressed closer, wishing and praying she would get better soon and want to eat popsicles on the porch with me again.

Lime was my favorite. Hers was cherry.

I would’ve eaten cherry every day if it meant getting that back.

Now I realized what my mother meant twelve years ago. And just how true her statement was.

It was Thursday, and it was my day off this week.

I’d worked six straight days and would’ve worked seven, no problem, considering how much I loved my new job and the tips I was getting, the kick-ass, laid-back atmosphere, the cute little uniforms that were super comfy, the people I worked with, okay …everything.

I loved everything.

It felt more like hanging out with my closest friends than work on most days.

I was even starting to consider Stitch a friend now that we’d spent a lot of shifts together and I’d gotten used to his big bad bearded ways, which included him being silent 99 percent of the time while I gabbed about my life and about Brian, figuring he wouldn’t mention it to anyone since he never spoke unless really provoked, those times being few and far between and normally coinciding with something Shay did or said.