“Apparently I don’t,” he said, sounding like he was talking to a child. “So enlighten me.”
“Cut the crap, Matt. You know he and I were friends too. We hung out all the time--”
He scoffed. “Yeah, because you had no job and no car. No life, really. You followed me everywhere.”
I bit my lip. I never wanted to follow my brother. It was Landon was drawn to. Landon I couldn’t get enough of. “God you’re an ass.”
He smiled, crinkling up the edges of his eyes. “You wound me, you really do.”
“You’re impossible.” I crossed the room, flopping down on a kitchen chair. “And quit playing coy. You knew I’d care.”
He leaned back against the kitchen counter, studying me. “But why do you care, that’s the question?”
“I just thought…” I let my voice trail off.
Matt didn’t know that Landon and I became something more, and the way he was eyeballing me right then, he was going to put the pieces together.
“I just feel like you’re being weird these days,” I said, deciding to deflect rather than tell the truth. “And even though I don’t really care that Landon’s in town, I know you do, and I think it’s weird that you didn’t talk about it. Aren’t you excited that your best friend is back?”
He turned to the fridge, taking out two diet cokes and sliding one over to me. “It’s cool. It’ll be good to go golfing with him again. Maybe we won’t even wreck the golf carts this time.”
I laughed. “I hope he’s a better driver by now.”
“We wrecked on purpose,” he said, popping the top of his soda with a hiss.
“You did not!”
“Yes we did,” he said, sipping the soda. “We were playing chicken. Turns out neither of us are chicken.”
I laughed harder. “You guys were such morons.”
“Can’t be that stupid. He’s pretty successful now.”
“I figured that one out. Did you know he’s behind the new sports medicine facility?”
He nodded. “It’s his third, you know. And he’s got two more under construction.”
“Oh.”
Matt continued rattling off facts. “The one in town’s a multi-million dollar facility. It’s already been endorsed by Michael Brant, you know from the Seattle Seahawks? Plus two Seattle Sounders professional soccer players.” He sounded proud.
Meanwhile, I was stunned. I could have Googled the information about Landon but I’d decided a couple years ago to put him out of my mind and try my best to pretend he didn’t exist. Apparently, he did exist, however, and he was having quite the life.
How the hell had he gone from the kid down the street to owner of three world class medical facilities?
“Anyway, I’m going to go take a nap,” Matt said. “I’m beat.”
“Tough day at work?”
“Didn’t sleep well. I’ll catch up with you later,” he said, leaving me alone in the kitchen to ponder just who Landon had become since he left town.
I put my feet up on the rickety chair across from me. It was leaning, one leg splayed out too far.
There was a time my dad would’ve fixed it. Just like the dripping faucet and the crooked cabinet door next to the oven. But that was before Mom passed away, before a couple of dark years where my dad barely held it together.
But things were turning around now. Dad was back at work. Maybe soon he would be back to the honey-do list.
Even if he didn’t have a honey to make the list anymore.
I frowned, ignoring the dark clouds creeping into the back of my mind. I wasn’t going down this path. Not tonight.
Besides, I could fix the stupid chair myself.
I was sitting on the dusty floor of my dad’s workshop, the chair upside down and my fingers practically glued together, staring at my handiwork.
Not bad. It took a whole hour to figure out how to get the leg to line up right and stay that way while the glue dried, yet I couldn’t help but feel a little smug.
Lights splashed across the wall, and a car pulled into the drive.
I stepped outside of the workshop just as my dad switched the lights off and stepped out of his car.
“Hey,” I said, pinching my fingers together to test the tackiness. They stuck, slowly peeling away as I pulled them apart.
“Hey, Ren,” he said, and I smiled involuntarily at the nickname. I’d hated that nickname, once upon a time. In high school when I thought I was too old for childish monikers.
Now, though, it just reminded me of the time before everything fell apart. A time when my family bathed in the glow of love and happiness. We weren’t rich, but we didn’t need to be, either. We had each other.
Before my mother’s cancer yanked it all apart, throwing our lives in a blender.
“What are you doing?” he asked, taking in the open door behind me.
“Just a little fix-it project.”
I led him into the workshop, my eyes adjusting to the dim light.
“You fixed the chair,” he said with some surprise, but approval as well.
“Hopefully.” I grinned. “No guarantees.”
He slung an arm around my shoulders. “You’re a good kid, you know that?”