But it was different now. I couldn’t very well throw her over my shoulder and beat my chest like a caveman. I’d lost my right to claim her a long time ago. Actually, I’d given it up. She wasn’t my girl anymore, despite what I was feeling.
“Real smooth,” my brother teased as we watched her drive away, I could just make out the taillights through the cloud of dust her dark gray Subaru was making. “She got out of here like her ass was on fire.”
“Maybe she was trying to get away from you two clowns,” I rebutted. But I knew better. I’d made some stupid comment and run her off, when I should have been groveling just to talk to her. I should have asked for a chance to apologize for the way things ended between us. My brother served as a good sounding board from time to time, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to admit that to Brett. As much as we razzed each other, the last thing I wanted to do was give him ammo. “Especially Sally over here… ‘The illustrious Nora,’” I mocked. “What the hell was that?”
“That was my way of letting her know that you think about her all the time,” he replied. “Pretty smooth if I do say so myself. You. Are. Welcome,” he smiled cheekily.
“You. Are. Insane,” I laughed, I had to—to save face and all that. “I don’t think about her all the time.” I couldn’t remember the last time I talked about her. “I don’t recall having any conversations about her with you.”
“Dude, seriously.” He ran a hand through his shaggy blonde hair and pushed it from his face. “And, I said you think about her all the time. Not talk.” He had me there. I did think about her. How could I not? She was the first girl I ever loved. Maybe it made me a chick, but she had a special place in my heart. Not to mention she was fine as fuck and God help me, I would never forget the first time I got to actually fuck her. Or the second. Or third. Or any of the times for that matter… everyone since had sort of fallen… short.
“You do,” Hoyt agreed when I looked to him for some brotherly support. “Think about her.”
Traitor.
Brett continued, “I’ve known you for what, eight, nine years now? Every time her name is mentioned or someone talks about having a girlfriend or settling down, you get this pussified look on your face and we all know exactly who you’re thinking about. Hell, when you first moved to Texas, every time you stayed over and you saw one of my mom’s Nora Roberts books sitting on the coffee table, you’d rub your finger over her name on the cover for a good ten minutes. Remember that?”
“I remember throwing a book at your head on more than one occasion.”
“Pretty sure you gave him a black eye once,” Hoyt interjected. He held up his hand for a fist bump and I couldn’t leave him hanging.
“You did,” he confirmed. “But do you remember why exactly?”
“No.” I had given Brett a black eye on more than one occasion. That’s just what guys do. We beat each other up sometimes for shits and giggles and then we move on with our lives.
“The first time was because I suggested that you hook up with someone else to get her out of your system. The second time was because I asked if you’d left your dick back in Illinois and had any plans of retrieving it.” He held up his hands defensively, when I took a step toward him. I was starting to remember exactly why I hurled that book at his head. I clenched my fists and kept my hand at my side. “And the black eye incident we were just speaking of was a result of me joking about taking a trip to Halstead and getting a piece of whatever ass was responsible for turning you inside out.” He kept his hands up.
He left out the part where he’d said, “She must be one hell of a fuck if you’re still this worked up over her. I really need some of that in my life.” I remembered though. It had pissed me off then and just remembering it now apparently had the same effect all these years later. No one got away with talking about Nora that way. Not even my best friend.
“Not that I ever would have,” Brett insisted. “I was just busting your chops.”