that guy, so mostly I’d tuned him out. I’d gotten the gist. And that gist was that he and his friends could handle their own against a lot of enemies. They weren’t afraid to piss someone off, and they weren’t afraid to fight.
Right.
Respect there, but I didn’t give a fuck in this situation.
The more I’d listened to Aspen talk last night, the more furious I’d become.
This fucker. He and his parents—all fucks.
“Graduation is tomorrow,” I growled.
His nostrils flared, but that was only his reaction.
“She’s gotta go. She has to do it for him.”
He still didn’t say a word.
I snorted. Whatever. This guy was going to help Aspen make a mistake she’d regret.
Fine. Moving on ’cause I had more. I had a whole bunch more.
“Your parents know Aspen hasn’t been in school the entire last week? I’ve slept here more than I should’ve been without one of them knowing, and guess who has noticed? Sandy. Guess who hasn’t told the people who should be told? Sandy.” Yeah. I was saying shit I shouldn’t be saying. Aspen would be so pissed at me, but I was seeing red.
I was seeing the girl she must’ve been after her car accident.
I was hearing her words in my ears.
“…I wished it’d been me, not him.”
“…why I was proud of having no one.”
I was gritting my teeth.
Anger, furious and blistering white-hot anger was racing through me, boiling my blood.
“It’s better to have no one to lose than … wish it’d been you instead.”
“She needs her family. She needs to not be proud not to have anyone.”
His jaw was clenched. He was scowling at me.
I forced myself to stop, because crap, I’d said too much. I showed her hand, my girl’s hand and she could be royally livid with me if she wanted.
I prayed she wouldn’t. I hoped she’d understand.
“When’s it my turn to get pushed away?”
I winced, hearing her words against me come back again.
Never, I vowed. I’d never push her away. I’d hold on, hold on as long as I possibly could keep her.
I had to get out of there or I’d say more and anything I’d say now would not be beneficial for my relationship.
“She’s smart, you know.”
I turned back.
He looked down his nose at me, holding his coffee and leaning against the counter as if he hadn’t a worry in the world.
He took a sip, speaking like I was dirt. “She’s smarter than you’ll ever be. She’s the genius in the family.”
“I’m aware.” I flashed him a hard grin. “Smarter than both of us.”
He grunted, but his mouth twitched. “Look, she’ll be tortured if she goes to that ceremony tomorrow. And I get why she didn’t want our parents to know. She and Owen were close, like, really close. It’s the only reason I was able to leave them, ’cause I knew they’d have each other.”
Anger sparked in me. “But that’s not a thing now, so where the fuck have you been all year?”
He went still, eerily still. “You might want to watch your tone with me.”
“You might want to clue in about your sister. She’s been alone all year.”
His nostrils flared again, and his head lowered.
He thought he could pin me down? Make me scared?
He’d never dealt with me.
“She’s got no friends—had no friends,” I continued. “And where is her family? Miss Sandy. Benny. They’re her family. They’re the ones who’ve met me. I’ve had meals with them. They know how I like my coffee.” I lifted my chin. “And you’re a special class of brother if you think she should skip her own graduation because of the brother who’s go—”
“What?” he suddenly demanded.
I paused.
I’d gone too far.
His voice came back low. “Her graduation?”
I paused.
I frowned. “Yeah. Her graduation. She graduates tomorrow.” Then it fell into place. He didn’t know. “She was moved up a year. She told me last night.”
His hand jerked, spilling coffee over his shirt.
He didn’t move. He didn’t seem to notice the coffee.
“She’s graduating tomorrow?” He looked down. “When?”
Dude. “Tomorrow.”
He looked back up. “Not the graduation, dipshit. When did she move up a grade?”
I opened my mouth…
And Aspen answered from the doorway. “The year after you left us.”
Damn. Regret seared through me, and I turned to her.
Her eyes weren’t on me, though. They were on her brother, and they were full of pain.
“Aspen.” I moved toward her.
She held a hand up. “You told him I don’t have friends. You told him everything. That wasn’t your information to share.”
I held still.
I had.
If I held still long enough, could I