"She wasn't really drunk. She was—" I stop, not wanting to explain.
"She was faking it," he says, shaking his head. "Bryce told me. So what was the reason? Was she trying to get you fired?"
Mitch can't stand my mom. He's never come out and actually said that, but it's clear from his tone whenever he talks about her. It's a mix of anger and annoyance.
"I don't know why she did it. Maybe she just wanted attention." Bryce obviously didn't tell Mitch my mom's motive for showing up drunk so I'm not going to tell him either.
"What did your boss say? Did you get in trouble?"
"Yes. But I told him it wouldn't happen again."
"And what if it does?"
I sigh. "I'll get fired."
He stops at a light and looks at me. "She can't keep doing this to you, Jen. You can't let her."
"I can't control her. She does what she wants."
"She uses you. And manipulates you. Which is why I don't want you staying with her."
I sigh again. "Could we please talk about something else? My mom is my least favorite topic."
He smiles. "What would you like to talk about?"
"My car. I don't know what's wrong with it."
"Bryce said it was the battery."
"I think that's it but I don't know."
"I'll check it when we get there. If it's the battery, I'll try to jump-start it. If it's dead, I'll go get a new one and put it in."
"I don't want to take up your whole day. If you can't jump-start it, I'll just get it towed to a garage."
"And how are you going to pay for that?"
I don't answer him, because he's right. I don't have the money.
"It won't take long to change a battery," he says. "If it's not the battery, I'll check some other things and if I can't figure it out, Bryce will have to take a look at it." He reaches over and pats my knee. "We'll get it fixed. Don't worry about it."
I'm so lucky to have the Wheelers in my life. They're always helping me with whatever I need. They pay for stuff too. Like the battery? Mitch will insist on paying for it, even if I beg him not to. And Bryce is always paying for stuff for me. His brothers do too. They all look out for me and take care of me.
When I move away, I won't have that anymore. And I'll miss it. I'll miss my family, because that's what they are to me. Mitch, Nash, Jake, Austin, and Bryce. They're my family and I'll miss them all. But most of all, Bryce.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Bryce
My brothers and I have been working nonstop since we got here this morning and now we're finally done. Our hard work paid off because we finished early. We thought we'd be stuck here until late tonight, but it's only two-fifteen and we're already done.
"How's it coming?" my dad asks as he walks in the kitchen.
"All done," Nash says, going past him. "I'm heading home to spend the rest of the day with my girl. See you guys later." He goes out the door that leads to the garage.
My dad catches the door before it shuts. "Nash," my dad calls after him. "Call me first thing tomorrow. We need to talk about the museum project."
"Will do," he calls back.
My dad shuts the door and glances around. "Great job, Bryce. The owners should be very pleased."
"I couldn't have done it without all the help."
"You owe me a case." Jake smiles as he picks up his toolbox. We always pay each other in beer. "The good stuff. Don't cheap out on me."
I smile. "Got it. Thanks for your help."
"See ya, Dad," Jake says, as he leaves.
Austin walks past him into the kitchen. "Garbage is in your truck," he says to me. "Anything else?"
"No. That's it. Thanks."
"Hey, Dad." Austin goes around him to get his phone which was on the counter. "You ready to go?"
"I want to talk to Bryce for a minute. Wait for me outside."
"Sounds like you're in trouble." Austin laughs and gives me a smart-ass grin. "What'd you do?"
"Austin!" my dad barks.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm going." He heads out the door to the garage.
"So did you get Jen's car running?" I ask.
"No. It's not the battery. It's something else. You'll need to go take a look at it."
"Okay. I'll go over there tomorrow." I put the kitchen chairs back in place around the table.
"Bryce. That's not what I wanted to talk about."
"Then what do you want to talk about?" I already know the answer, but I stand by the counter, staring at him, waiting for the lecture I know is coming.
"Why aren't you letting her stay at your place?"
"Because we're not a couple. Why doesn't anyone get that?"
"Austin said you were acting like a couple at the bar the other night."
I shake my head. "Austin needs to shut the hell up and mind his own business."
"If you're not dating Jen, then you should have no problem with her staying with you." He crosses his arms over his chest. "Or is there some other reason you don't want her there?"
I roll my eyes. "Yeah. Fine. I'm attracted to her. Like you didn't already know that?"
"Of course I know it. Everyone knows it."
"Then you should get why I don't want her staying with me."
"You're not a teenager, Bryce. I think you can control yourself around her for a few days while she stays with you."
Unfortunately I don't think I can control myself around her. Not for a whole week. Even if I slept on the couch, just having her around me for that long will make me want to do things I shouldn't.
"It's not a good idea," I say, taking my leather jacket off the chair and shrugging it on.
"I don't want her staying with Rita."
"Well, I don't know what to tell you. Your house is full. Jake doesn't have room. Neither does Nash. And she can't stay with me. So Rita's her only option."
He huffs and shakes his head. "I'm disappointed in you, Bryce."
I shrug. "That's nothing new."
His brows furrow. "Why would you say that?"
I shrug again. "I don't know. Never mind. I shouldn't have said it."
He walks up to me, his eyes on mine. "You know I'm proud of you. I tell you that all the time. You work hard. You do an excellent job. You did a better job on this kitchen than guys twice your age."
"But I'll never be in charge," I mutter, avoiding his gaze. "I'm not Jake. Or Nash. I fucked up this job. Hired the wrong people. And had to have my brothers come save me."
"Bryce." He waits until my eyes lift back to his. "Everyone makes mistakes. You're only 22. You're going to make a lot of mistakes, even when you're older. Hell, I'm 50 and still making mistakes. And as for being in charge, you will be. Just not yet. Jake wasn't in charge when he was your age. He needed more experience first, and so do you. Being in charge of projects has nothing to do with how I feel about you versus your brothers."
"You don't have to lie to me, Dad. Nash. Jake. Austin. We all know you see us differently."
"Yes, you each have your strengths, but that doesn't mean I'm not proud of you. Or your brothers. Nash is a born leader. He takes charge, but sometimes that's not always a good thing and I've told him he needs to work on learning when to let others take the lead. Jake is a salesman, and he's gotten us a lot of new business, but he tends to over promise on things we can't deliver, so again, he has things he needs to work on. And as for you, you're strength is in construction. You're better at it than any of your brothers and they all know it. You can put something together without even looking at an instruction manual. Even as a kid you could do that."
It's true, but when it comes to business, Nash and Jake are both smarter than me, and when my dad retires, they'll take over the company. They'll be the ones in charge. I'll be part owner, but I'll always feel like I'm working for them instead of being their partner.
"When I said I was disappointed in you," he says, "it had nothing to do with your work. What I meant is that I'm disappointed in how you're treating Jen. She's unha
ppy staying with Rita and it's not good for her to be there. You know that more than anyone. And I know you love Jen. You can deny it all you want but we all know you love her. So the fact that you're making her stay there, unhappy, knowing how Rita treats her, is disappointing to me." He pats my shoulder. "Think about it. I'll see you later."
He leaves me standing in the kitchen, feeling like an ass. Feeling like I should go over to Rita's house and get Jen away from her bitch of a mom, who's probably making Jen scrub her bathroom right now. Or fold her clothes. Or make her dinner. The woman acts like Jen is her own personal servant. But Jen has to learn to say no. She's not a kid. She needs to stand up to her mom, and maybe she'll learn to do that this week. Maybe it'll be good for her to be there.
That's what I tell myself as I pack up and leave and drive back to my apartment. When I get there, I notice it's much cooler than when I left. Jen must've turned the heat down for me.
I go in the kitchen and see that the breakfast I made her is gone and in its place is my dinner, according to the sign she left. She has a bag of potato chips set out, along with some candy, a can of Coke, and a note telling me to heat up the chicken nuggets in the freezer. It's another one of the meals we made up as kids, saying it's what we'd eat when we were adults and could have whatever we wanted for dinner. We made up all kinds of meals. Jen even wrote them down in a notebook. She might even still have it.
I'm sweaty from work so I take a long shower and I swear I smell Jen. Her perfume must've washed off, leaving her scent behind. It makes my mind wander to images of her here with me. In the shower. I shouldn't be thinking about that, and I try not to, but damn, her scent is all around me. Or maybe I'm imagining it.
After the shower, I put on some jeans and a t-shirt and relax on the couch, trying to find something to watch on TV. But my mind keeps going back to Jen. I hate that she's over there at her mom's.
"Shit." I shut the TV off and toss the remote on the table and take out my phone to call Jen.
"Hey, Bryce," she answers. "You still at work?"
"No. We got done early." I get up, grabbing my jacket off the back of the couch. "What are you doing?"
"Hiding in my room. My mom's got her new boyfriend over here. They're making out in the living room. It's disgusting. By now, they're probably having sex on the couch."
"I'm coming to get you." I take my keys from the counter and head out the door.
"What do you mean you're coming to get me? Like for dinner?"
"No. Well, yeah, we can have dinner, but you're not going back there. You're coming here and staying here. At least until your apartment gets fixed." I shove my jacket on as I go out to my truck.
"But I thought—"
"Yeah, I know. I was being an idiot. I should've just had you stay here."
"Bryce, I don't want to get in the way. It's not a very big apartment."
"And you're not a very big person. There's plenty of room. Get your bag packed. I'll be there in a few minutes." I hang up before she can talk me out of it. I still think it's a bad idea for us to live together for a week but I can't let her stay with Rita.
When I get to the house, some guy opens the door. He doesn't look much older than me.
"Who are you?" I ask.
"He's with me." Rita wraps her arm around him, a big grin on her face. "This is Mark. Mark, this is Bryce."
"Hey," Mark grunts, holding his hand out to me. He's about six feet tall, but scrawny, with greasy black hair and a mustache that hasn't fully grown in.
"Hey." I quickly shake his hand.
"You friends with Rita?" he asks.
"Hardly." Rita laughs. "Bryce is Jen's friend."
"I'm here to see her." I try to go past Mark but he blocks my path. What the fuck? I glare at him, eye to eye. "You gonna move?"
"The misses didn't invite you in. Why don't you show some manners?"
Rita laughs again and slaps Mark on the ass. "I like you, sugar. I'm gonna keep you around." She nods at me. "Let him in. He's harmless."
Mark waits a moment, then finally steps aside. I keep my eyes on him as I go past him. I'm four inches taller and have at least seventy pounds on this guy, most of which is muscle. One punch and he'd be knocked unconscious, so I don't know what he's thinking messing with me like that.
I go down to Jen's room and knock on her door. "Jen, it's me."
She opens the door wearing a pair of worn jeans and a hooded sweatshirt with our high school mascot on it. She used to wear that sweatshirt to all my football games. I was a linebacker and Jen went to every game. I'd see her in the stands, waving and cheering. And afterward, we'd go out with some of the other players and their girlfriends and get something to eat.
"Remember this?" She points to her sweatshirt.
"Yeah. I'm surprised you still have it."
"I found it at the bottom of my closet. Still fits." She takes it off and tosses it on the bed, leaving her in a white t-shirt.
"What are you doing? Aren't you going to wear it?"
She smiles. "No. That's embarrassing. I'm not in high school anymore."
"You can still wear it. It looks good on you." I pick it up from her bed and hand it to her. "Put this on. Then when we get back to my place, I'll put on mine and we'll relive high school. We'll watch our favorite movies and eat pizza bagels and Oreos."
She laughs. "We lived on that stuff. Why were we so obsessed with pizza bagels and Oreos?"
"And licorice. Remember when we'd get those giant bags and eat the whole thing before the movie even finished?"
"I don't know how we weren't bouncing off the walls with all that sugar."
"So you want to do it again? We'll stop at the store on the way to my apartment."
"Are you serious?" She's smiling so much it's making me smile.
"Yeah. Let's do it." I go in her closet and grab her duffle bag. "Is this it? Anything else?"
"No, that's it." She races over to her dresser to get her keys. "Oh my God, this is going to be so much fun. I can't wait." She runs over to me, then stops suddenly and whispers, "Did you meet Mark?"
"Yeah, he's an ass. Wouldn't even let me in the door. What the fuck's his problem?"
"I think he's been drinking. I think they're both a little drunk. My mom met him at a bar last night." She shudders. "He's so disgusting. When I walked past him earlier he smacked my ass and called me hot stuff." She laughs. "Who says 'hot stuff'? Only old guys. Mark's only 25."
"He touched you?" I ask, my shoulders stiffening.
"He was just being stupid. It's no big deal."
"He shouldn't have touched you." I drop her bag and head for her door.
"Bryce, no." She gets a tight hold on my arm. "Don't fight with him. Let's just go."
Mark and Rita are laughing in the living room, the TV blaring. It's always too loud. I think Rita's half deaf.
"Bryce, I mean it." She tugs on my arm. "I just want to go. Let's get out of here."
I turn back and see her eyes pleading with me. I go back in her room and get her bag, then take her hand securely in mine, and walk to the living room. A cloud of cigarette smoke greets us and Jen coughs a little. She can't handle the smoke, which is another reason why she shouldn't be staying here.
"Where you going?" Rita yells, her arms and legs draped over Mark as he sits on the couch with her. They both have cigarettes in their hands.
"I'm staying with Bryce," she says.
I pull her to the door, trying to get her out of here as fast as possible. What was I thinking even considering letting her stay at this house? She can't even breathe.
"For how long?" Rita coughs, a deep hacking smoker's cough.
"Until my apartment's fixed."
"I thought you were staying here?"
"I changed my mind."
"That's too bad, darlin'." Mark eyes her body, a sick grin on his hollowed out face. "We'll miss ya."
I want to punch the asshole for looking at Jen that way.
"Jen, let's go." I shove open the
front door and wait for Jen to walk through.
"Make sure to get those groceries tomorrow," Rita yells as we leave.
"You're buying her groceries?" I ask Jen once we're in the truck.
"Just a few things." She puts her seatbelt on. "She gave me a list."
I shake my head. "You need to stop paying for her shit. She needs to pay for it herself."
"It's food, Bryce. I can't let her starve."
"If she has money for the tanning booth, she has money for food."
"I don't want to fight about this. You had me all excited about tonight and now you're bringing down the mood."
"Me? It's your mom who was—"
"Bryce. Please?"
I glance at her and smile. "Bagels or English muffins?"
She smiles back. "We're not getting the frozen ones?"
Back in high school, Jen and I would either make our own pizza bagels or get frozen ones. The frozen ones weren't very good so were reserved for emergencies only, like late night cravings.
"We're going all out. Making our own. So which do you want? Bagels or English muffins?"
"Bagels. Totally. I never liked the English muffins."
"You didn't? Then why did you eat them?"
"Because I thought you liked them."
"I hated them. I only ate them because I thought you liked them."
She laughs. "So we both ate what we didn't like just because we thought the other person did?"
"I guess. Anything else you didn't like?"
"Hmm." She taps her finger on her lips as she thinks, then jumps in her seat. "Oh! When you mix cherry syrup with your Mountain Dew. It's too sweet."
"It's my drink. I can mix it however I want. If you'd stop drinking my pop and get your own it wouldn't bother you."
"I knew you didn't like it when I did that," she mumbles.
"Jen, I'm kidding. If it makes you happy, I'll stop adding the syrup."
"No, you're right. I should get my own drink. I shouldn't keep drinking yours." She looks out the side window.
"Hey." I reach over and take her hand. "I like it when you drink my pop. It's our thing. You've been doing it forever. Just like you've been stealing my french fries forever."
Can't Let You Go: A Wheeler Brothers Novel Page 14