Repeat - Kylie Scott Page 0,39
a bit of a dog’s breakfast.”
“Is your uncle still alive?”
“No. He passed away a while back. Cancer, the same as your mom,” Ed says. “Only his was lung cancer from smoking a pack of cigarettes a day his whole damn life. The man was lucky to last as long as he did.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
“To Uncle Karl.” Leif raises his glass and Ed and I do likewise. We all drink.
“So.” Leif settles back into his chair once again. “You two aren’t together, but you’re living together? How does that work? Because from what I heard from Mom, the breakup was like Death Star levels of . . .” He mimes something exploding with his hands, throwing in some rather disturbing and violent noises as accompaniment.
“Death Star?” I ask.
“Sci-fi movie. We’ll watch it sometime,” says Ed.
“And I’m not talking the original version either,” Leif continues. “No sir. The digitally remastered one, where you can feel the explosion’s shock wave through your whole body.”
His exuberance only makes me frown harder. “I think I get the picture.”
“It’s just while I get Clem her down payment back and have the deed changed and everything,” said Ed, returning to his brother’s question.
Leif’s brows pull together. “Thought Mom said you had that sorted?”
The expression on Ed’s face . . .
“Jesus,” says Leif, looking to Ed’s face, and mine, and back again. “Brother, my apologies. But I cannot even begin to keep up with what you are and aren’t telling our parents or your ex-girlfriend these days.”
“It’s done?” I ask, setting my glass down on the coffee table.
After swearing under his breath, Ed shoots his brother another foul look. Leif swallows down his whiskey and looks elsewhere. Anywhere that’s not me or Ed.
“Well?” I ask.
He relents. “The money’s in the bank as of a few days ago; I just have to transfer it over to your account. I’ll do it tomorrow. Paperwork’s not ready yet, though. I was waiting on that, but I guess it doesn’t matter.”
“No, we should do it the right way. Wait on the paperwork and everything.”
“So fucking complicated,” mutters Leif. “Remind me to never have a serious girlfriend.”
“Thing is, Clem, I didn’t want you using it as an excuse to leave,” Ed says, gaze troubled. “I know this is awkward, but you’re still safer here with me.”
I frown.
“We’re getting on okay, aren’t we? Basically?”
I don’t know what to say. The truth doesn’t seem wise. And yay me for not blurting it out for once.
“Wait, she’s in danger?” asks Leif.
“We don’t know, and I don’t want to risk it.” Ed downs his drink in one go before rising to go get the bottle. “It’s not a big deal. The reasons for you staying here haven’t changed.”
Leif sits up straight. “What the hell’s going on?”
“Someone trashed my car,” I say. “Took a tire iron to it or something. We don’t know who or why. It may be about Frances being a cop and have nothing to do with me being assaulted at all. But your brother has kindly been babysitting me just in case there’s a big bad dude out to get me.” I look him over and realize something. “You know, you’re not going to fit on the sofa; you’re too tall.”
“I’m six foot two and I’m the runt of the family.” Leif smiles, but it’s a distracted and small thing. “I’ll be okay—don’t worry about me. I’m more worried about you, right now.”
“I can take the sofa. You have the futon in the spare room.”
Ed tops up everyone’s drinks before sitting back down. “You’re not sleeping on the sofa. You heard him: he’ll be fine. And you’re staying here for as long as it takes to make sure you’re safe and okay.”
“We don’t even know if there is a problem.”
“We don’t know that there’s not. Didn’t we just have this argument?”
“That was like twenty-four hours ago,” I say. “It’s clearly time for us to revisit the topic.”
He downs half his drink. “No, we’re good.”
“We’re not. You’re not. You’ve been avoiding me since you walked me to work this morning. You know you have.” Okay, so my gift of blurting has obviously returned.
Leif’s gaze jumps back and forth between us while Gordy whines slightly.
“That’s crazy.” Ed scoffs. “How could I possibly be avoiding you while walking you to work and picking you up again? We’ve been in the same room for the last few hours!”
“Mentally and emotionally you are avoiding me. Not that I blame you.” I hold up a hand. “I do not blame you.