hand. “Are you going to call Tom?”
“Yeah. I’ll let him know what happened last night so he’s prepared in case they call when they’re done unpacking the car.”
I nodded. Yes, that would be soon. It didn’t look like they had much more to do. “I suppose you should call now.”
“Yeah.”
But he wasn’t. And I wasn’t leaving.
We stood there. I watched my front door. He watched me. We sounded normal. We probably even looked normal, but one of us was very much not normal.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked.
An irritated huff came from him. “Is this the same thing as last night? You and me?”
“You and me, you being nice to me, doing this. Are you going to get in trouble?”
“The only one who might get in trouble is you. Tom will cover, say he stopped by earlier for food and that’s it. Trust me. This isn’t our first rodeo.”
But why was he being nice to me? Why was he going out of his way to help me? We didn’t even kiss, so he wasn’t doing it for an easy hookup. He was just sleeping next to me.
“Stop. Okay? Stop.” He touched both of my arms, coming to stand in front of me. “I can see the wheels going in there. Stop.”
“But why—”
He cut me off, his hands squeezing once before falling away. He stepped back. “Because I want to.”
“But why do—”
“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know either. I . . . I don’t know either. It is what it is. I don’t want to think about it any more than that.”
And that was the end of it. The questions plaguing me went away as if he’d silenced them. We didn’t have a formal goodbye. I nodded and slipped inside my house. The door was unlocked and the alarm off, so one of my parents had already been outside this morning. Once I was inside, I went to the living room window and watched. Ryan continued to stand in our driveway a moment longer before heading back down the road.
“Good morning, honey.” My mom sailed past me on her way to the kitchen.
No, “Oh, you’re up,” or “Where were you last night?” or “When did you get home?” Just “Good morning, honey.”
I followed her to the kitchen and stared. She never looked at me—not while she filled her coffee cup, not while she put a piece of bread in the toaster, not while she poured some orange juice in a glass. Her head remained down as she buttered the toast.
“Would you like some breakfast?” she asked. “I’m making some for Robbie. I can put more bread in the machine for you.”
My stomach had rumbled last night, so I said, “Sure. Yeah.”
And she did, putting two pieces in before pushing the lever down. Then she picked up the plate with Robbie’s toast and the orange juice.
“Be right back for my coffee,” she said over her shoulder as she left.
She took him his food. She was coming back for her coffee, and me? I buttered my own toast.
“I know you snuck out last night. I saw you.”
My door was open an inch, and Robbie was there. I would’ve teased him about being a creeper except for the sadness, yearning, and caution that filled his eyes.
“Hey, kiddo.” I was at my desk and slid the chair over enough to toe open the door. “You come around these parts often?”
A soft giggle was my reward, and he came in, bouncing to a seat on the bed. His eyes calmed.
“So you caught me, huh?” I smiled, leaning back in my chair. “What do I owe you? You didn’t rat me out to Mom and Dad.”
He rested his hands next to his legs and lifted his shoulders. “You were with Ryan. I knew you were safe.”
“Yeah?”
His cheeks pinked, and he looked down at his lap. “Ryan’s cool.”
“I agree.”
“Did you sleep together again?”
For a moment, I had no words. It sounded wrong, that sentence coming from my eleven-year-old brother.
“Uh . . . what?”
“Sleeping next to him helps you sleep. I overheard at the Jensens’ house, and I assumed there was a reason you were in his bed.” He lifted his hands, folding them in his lap. “Is that why you left last night? So you could sleep?”
He thought I left to sleep. Then again, maybe he was right. It wasn’t about seeing Ryan or sneaking out and giving a silent middle finger to my parents. I sighed. Robbie was too young to deal with any of