I laugh, tying off the husks and moving to the next pillar. “Back to how hot I am, huh? Can’t let that go?”
“I can . . . it’s just that”—she pauses and then gestures at me—“you’re so big. You were never that big when we were together.”
“I wasn’t a shrimp either,” I state, trying to defend my younger self.
“No, you weren’t, but now it’s like . . . do you have any shirts that don’t look like they’re about to pop open with every move you make?”
“You know, Amelia, if I didn’t know any better, I would say you’ve been checking me out.” And that makes me feel fucking good.
“Oh please,” she huffs. “I have a boyfriend, so I don’t need to check you out.”
And there is the confirmation I didn’t want to hear. It’s funny how casually she said it, but how desperately horrible it makes me feel. Seeing her again, spending moments with her, reinforces how much I lost. Now? I wish we could start again. I hated letting her go, but I’m justified, because she achieved her dreams. She wanted to work with kids and she’s there. She wouldn’t have that had she stayed with me. I did the right thing. And now? Now there are a million roadblocks to getting her again. Instead of getting frustrated, I try to breeze past her confession.
“Still doesn’t mean you don’t check me out.” I spin toward her real quick where her eyes snap to mine. “See, right there, you were just checking out my ass.”
“What? Was not?” She stands taller.
“I saw you.”
“No, you didn’t. I wasn’t staring at anything.”
“Okay, keep telling yourself that, babe.” I give her a quick wink and turn back to my work.
For the rest of the time together, we work in silence, stretching cobwebs all over her front porch, bushes, and oak tree, strategically placing the giant spiders in spots that will startle the trick-or-treaters. It’s perfect. I’m actually pretty jealous of her setup.
“Damn, I should have done this for my yard. Its badass.”
She glances over at my house that’s lit up by a porch light. I went with the theme, Land of the Pumpkins, which is basically pumpkins everywhere and used in every which way. “Yeah, yours doesn’t have the scare factor.”
I place my hands on my hips and assess my yard. “It will have the scare factor when I put a flame thrower on the side of my house so whenever someone rings the bell, a blast of fire shoots near them.”
“Good luck getting a flame thrower on such short notice.”
“Eh, I know people,” I say nonchalantly. I know no one.
She chuckles and yawns while stretching her arms above her head, revealing a small patch of her beautiful olive skin. “I better go to bed. Thanks for your help tonight. Still seems ridiculous that I had to do this to fit in with the elderly folk, but I guess it does look pretty badass.”
“It really does and believe me when I say you’re going to have praises sung about you by the neighbors. You might have the best house on the block.”
“Let’s not get carried away. Seriously though, thank you.”
“Don’t sweat it.” I walk backward and wink at her. “Night, Amelia.”
“Wait,” she calls out. “I have a rent check for you.”
Is it bad that for a brief second I thought she was telling me to wait for entirely different reasons?
I set my tools on the ground and jog to her house. She holds the door open for me and says, “Come in, I’ll be a second.” I walk into her house and try not to look around too much but curiosity gets the best of me. “You don’t mind taking it to Mrs. Ferguson, do you?” she calls out from the kitchen.
“Not at all.”
Hands in my pockets, I take in the house, and immediately I’m hit with Amelia. She’s decorated this house to suit her perfectly. Bright colors, flowers, pillows . . . rugs. It’s warm and inviting and so Amelia. I glance around, seeing her knickknacks, pictures, and magazines scattered over the coffee table. Some things never change.
I chuckle to myself and turn toward the fireplace, where there are picture frames propped up on the mantel. Curious, I take a look at them. One with her father from her college graduation. There’s a picture of her with her sister, who I didn’t know well because she lives in Rochester. And then there’s one with a man.
That must be him.
Looking behind me, I check for Amelia. She’s still working on the check so I step closer, wanting to size up the man she’s dating. I want to know if he’s good enough, if he looks like a douche, or if he has kind features, the type of man I know would take good care of Amelia.
My heart skips a beat and my breath catches in my throat. Total numbness encompasses me as my mind starts to swirl around in one giant what-the-fuck moment.
“No fucking way,” I whisper, snagging the picture from the mantel and bringing it closer to get a better look.
Blue eyes stare back at me. The same shade of blue as mine, and the same that belong to my mom. “Holy shit.” I rub the man’s face over the glass, trying to make sure I’m not just seeing things, but I’m not . . .
It’s clear as day.
Amelia is dating my brother.
Tyke.
My fucking brother.
Unable to comprehend this is real, I stare at the picture long and hard, taking in their smiling faces, the way his hand is wrapped around her shoulders . . . He’s fucking touching her.
Just the thought of his hands on her causes my mind to spiral into a pit of dark thoughts.
They’re dating.
They’ve kissed.
They’ve had sex.
My brother has had sex with my Amelia.
I pull on the strands of my hair, rage starting to boil deep inside me.
“Hey, here you go,” Amelia says, causing me to whip around, still holding the frame in my hand. When she looks at it, her smile fades and a look of guilt crosses her features. She shouldn’t feel guilty, but fuck if I don’t want her to. “Snooping?” I can see she’s trying to break the tension crackling between us.
“Uh, just looking around.” Needing confirmation, I ask, “Is this your boyfriend?”
Lovingly, she takes the picture from me and holds it against her chest. “Yes, that’s Trey.”
Trey.
Fucking Trey.
With the mention of his name, it’s like the memory floodgates open. Picture after picture flash in my head. Trey at Disney World. Trey playing baseball. Trey riding his bike. Trey being hugged lovingly by his parents. Trey with a brand new car. Trey graduating college. And now, just to top off that wonderful slideshow? Trey . . . with Amelia.
He’s had everything I always wanted, so naturally, he has Amelia too.
I nod and try to plaster on a smile. There is no way in hell I’m going to tell her. For one, she doesn’t know I have brothers, and for another, I don’t want her to see how angry this makes me, how I’m about to snap in half right now from the thought of my brother having one more goddamn thing I want.