“Funny.” She smiles. “Just let me know if you find out I have any nieces or nephews. You know how I like to do my Christmas shopping early.”
“Is there a reason why you’re still sitting here?” I ask, tilting my head with a glare. “Shouldn’t you be at home . . . with Dick?”
She scowls, wrapping her blonde hair up into a messy knot on top of her head. “His name is Richard.”
“Which is another name for Dick.”
“Why don’t you like him? Is it because we’re dating?”
I stand, carrying my cup over to the sink.
Not only is my sister constantly in my nonexistent love life, she’s also always trying to involve me in hers somehow. I couldn’t care less who she dates, just as long as they treat her good.
“He’s a shit worker. That’s why I don’t like him,” I reply with my back to her as I wash out my cup. “He knows damn well he needs to get his ass to the job site by 6:00 a.m., and he’s always late. Then when he does finally show up, he’s walking around like a fucking zombie.”
“A zombie?”
“Yeah,” I reply, turning around after drying my hands with the towel hanging on the stove. I brace myself with my hands gripping the counter. “A love-sick zombie. He looks like an idiot.”
My sister blinks rapidly, and reaches up to adjust her glasses. “Really?” she asks quietly with a trembling lip.
Oh, Christ.
“He’s never actually told me he loves me. Do you really think he does?”
I lean back, grimacing. “How the hell should I know how he feels about you?”
“Don’t you guys talk while you’re at the shop? Or when you’re on your lunch break?”
“No,” I answer, flatly. “The only thing I say to Dick is why the fuck are you late? and go do something. He’s lucky I’m desperate for laborers right now, or I would’ve fired his ass already.”
She gives me a cunning smile, and I know exactly what she’s silently suggesting.
“I’m not asking him.”
Her head falls back with a loud grunt. “You suck as a big brother. If this situation were reversed, I would totally find out how some chick felt about you.”
“I know exactly how chicks feel about me. They’re usually pretty damn vocal when I’m . . .”
She holds her hand up. “Okay. Thanks. That’s . . .” She shakes her head. “I don’t want to know.”
I laugh as the heat burns across her cheeks.
Riley is always quick to embarrass. Since we’re related, and she bugs the shit outta me about stuff, I push her buttons any chance I get.
She stands, sliding her chair back under the table.
“You leaving?”
Her head drops into quick nods, her eyes casted to the floor. She doesn’t move, doesn’t make any attempts to leave the spot she’s suddenly glued to. She’s nervous about something. Going as far as to avoid eye-contact.
“What?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest. “Did that asshole say something to you about asking me for another raise? He’s not getting one. Tell him to start showing up on time and maybe I’ll consider it.”
Her eyes slowly reach mine, and she winces before saying, “I ran into Molly at Costco.”
My stomach drops to the floor.
I don’t want to react to that name. Nine fucking years should’ve made it so I don’t give a damn about any woman named Molly, but every muscle in my body tenses. My forearms begin to burn as my arms lock, tightening against my body.
Fucking shit.
Riley frowns, takes in the reaction I’m doing a shit job at hiding, and lets out a loud, brusque exhale. “I know. If it makes you feel any better, I contemplated ramming into her with my grocery cart. But, I had eggs in there.”
“She’s not back here, is she?”
Last I heard, four years ago from some asshole I went to high school with who decided I wanted to know this information, Molly graduated from Virginia Tech but decided to stay there instead of moving back home. I like her being ten hours away. I’d like a greater distance if I could get it.
China. Australia. Fucking Mars would be awesome.
“I have no idea,” Riley answers, taking a step forward. “But, she was shopping at a store where you buy items in bulk. I don’t think people do that if they’re just here for a visit.”
“You didn’t talk to her?”
Her eyes widen in shock. “No way. Why would I? As soon as I saw her, I turned and went down another aisle. I don’t have anything to say to her.”
I close my eyes, raking both hands down my face.
This fucking sucks for several reasons. One, we’re talking about Molly, and I don’t fucking talk about Molly to anyone. I don’t like thinking about that bitch, and talking about her makes that a problem. Two, my sister knows this shit affects me, and I hate that. She’s practically rubbing my back, telling me everything is going to be okay with the sympathetic look she’s giving me. Fuck that. This shouldn’t bother me! She knew, even before she said it, this would get to me, and that pisses me off. I shouldn’t care. My sister shouldn’t know this will affect me. I should be over this.
What. The. Fuck.