Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Grinning is instant, but when I catch a view of Thayne openly laughing, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, the expression falls to the pit of my stomach right alongside my aching heart.
Is this separation not killing him?
Is he over me?
Is this over?
Am I about to become a real-life 112 heartbreak anthem?!
M flips the phone back around and mirthfully grouses, “How do they have no balance on dryland?”
I try my hardest to smile again.
“Talk,” my big brother airily demands prior to sitting completely at attention. “Something’s very wrong.”
Letting my mouth crack open releases a small, familiar sound.
“Don’t try to lie to me, Gilly,” M sweetly scolds. “I can tell when something’s off.”
I force the expanding knot down the back of my dry throat. “You got a sec?”
“I’d make one if I didn’t.”
“M.”
“We’ve got a small delay in plane maintenance which is why the boys are fucking off in that field, and I have plenty of time to hear about whatever has my little sister not sleeping lately.”
“How do you-”
“Same way you know.” His head tilts firmly to one side. “Now, talk.” Eagerness to help swiftly spreads through his stare. “You clearly need an apple.”
The reference to an assist has me bashfully nodding. “I do.”
“With work? I mean I’m not a doctor like you, but I know some doctor shit.”
“You know some doctor shit because I’m a doctor.”
“And because I know how to use the internet.”
“Which worked out super well for you, when you thought you had tremors caused by mercury poisoning from having salmon three times in one week instead of the outlandish amount of energy drinks you had started consuming to keep up with your new coaching responsibilities.”
My brother twitches an amused glare.
“Relax, it’s not work ish.”
“Ship?”
This time there’s hesitation to my nodding.
“You two drop the gloves?”
“Not physically.”
“Of course not physically, otherwise the pigeon would be dead and buried in the Sunshine Bend woods by now, aye.”
The corner of my lips helplessly kicks upwards.
“What’s the tilly?”
“Um…” fiddling with the edge of my cup is done to distract from the pending awkwardness, “you.”
“Me?!” A grunt of disbelief is thrown out. “What about me?”
“He…thinks…I’m…purposely…putting off…you two…meeting.”
“You are,” M instantaneously concurs.
“Excuse you!”
His dark trench coat covered shoulders innocently bounce. “It’s the truthskies, baby sis.”
“It’s not-” Cutting myself off is accompanied by attaching my gaze to his on a hiccup. “But see-”
He shifts his eyebrows to the sky.
“I just…” another hiccup springs loose.
M obnoxiously leans forward with two fingers from his free hand cupping his ear.
“Ugh,” I huff and slink further down in my chair, “fuck, fine. Yes. Yes, I have been putting it off, but for good reasons!”
Another sarcastic expression is tossed at me.
“They have been! In the beginning it was super new-”
“And then it wasn’t.”
“You weren’t home-”
“And then I was.”
“You had family ish-”
“And you are part of my family too.”
“Then barn fires to put out-”
“I’m always gonna have fires to put out, Gilly,” lightly chortles my best friend. “Comes with bein’ the bench boss.” He shakes his head in amusement and disapproval alike. “You’re making excuses.” I don’t even manage to think about arguing. “You’re making excuses to me…about me…which tells me you’ve been the doing the same and worse to him.”
My lips guiltily press together, suppressing the lie building sound exposer.
“Circumstances are never gonna be perfect, Gilly, and you trying to wait until they theoretically are is just your way of further pushing off the inevitable of us meeting likely ‘cause you’re afraid I won’t love the bud like you do.”
“Please don’t love him exactly like I do,” I good naturedly tease while toying with my jukebox necklace. “That’s not my type of porn.”
“Dude on dude?”
“Bro on my dude.” Small sniggers can’t be stopped. “That’s wincest and never been my double click preference.”
“Mine either.”
More chuckles are exchanged, luring my entire frame to relax and the ball of apprehension clogging my cords to dissolve.
“Time to nut up, aye,” M casually commands. “Time to put us in the same room with a round of wings and brewskies and let us faceoff.” Yelling in the background is promptly followed by him announcing, “Plane’s ready. I gotta go. But…” He points a firm finger into the camera. “We’re on a four-day homestead starting tomorrow, so we’re gonna make this shit happen. Pick a date. A place. Confirm with him. Text me the deets. Got it?”
Reluctance to cave is hard to ignore.
“Gillian.”
His use of my full name tied to the tone has me sticking my tongue out before surrendering, “Got it.”
“Atta girl,” he laughs. “All the love.”
“Me too.”
Our call ends yet again leaving me with the undeniable, ugly truth.
They’re right.
I’ve been avoiding the sitch like a cavity I swear I can just live with despite how miserable it makes me, and it’s time to put an end to it.
It’s time to do the super hard thing and let M finally know that I’m not just banging one of his players.