Can't Let You Go: A Wheeler Brothers Novel (8 page)

"Bryce, don't start. I don't want to get into this again."

He leans back in his chair. "So where are you and the newscaster going tonight? His country club?"

I toss my napkin at him. "Stop it. He's not a newscaster. And he's not rich. Well, compared to me he is, but compared to other people he's not. His mom's a nurse and his dad's an accountant. That's how he got the internship. His dad set it up. Anyway, we're just going to dinner. I don't want to be out late. I'm tired." I nudge his foot. "You kept me up too late."

"You're the one who invited me over." He smiles.

I smile back. "Uh, no. You invited yourself over."

"You could've told me to leave."

"I think I did."

"Guess I didn't hear you. So what did you and Old Man Pants do last night?"

I laugh again. "Stop making up names for him. His name is Chad. And we didn't go out last night. I ended up going to my mom's house instead." I pause to think. "Do you even own a pair of khaki pants?"

"Hell no. You know what I own. You picked out most of it."

It's true. Bryce has no interest in shopping and if he did it himself, he'd own ten pairs of jeans, all the same brand and style, and ten black t-shirts. When his mom was alive, she'd help him shop for clothes, but after she died, I volunteered to do it. I go to the mall and scope out what I like, then I take Bryce with me and make him try stuff on, which he hates, but he still does it.

Sometimes I make him try on clothes he'd never wear just so I can see how he'd look in them. Last time we went shopping, I made him try on a pair of black dress pants and a dress shirt. And damn, he looked good. The pants fit his ass perfectly and the shirt was an athletic fit that conformed to his broad shoulders and v-shaped torso. I told him he should get the shirt and pants to wear to my graduation, so he did. He'll probably only wear them on graduation day and then they'll just sit in his closet forever.

My phone rings and when I see who it is, I get that nervous stomach feeling I get whenever she calls. I wish she didn't make me feel that way.

"It's my mom," I say to Bryce. "I'll make it quick." I answer the call. "Hey, Mom."

"Hi, darlin'. How's your day?" She's being overly nice, which is never a good sign. It usually means she wants something.

"It's fine, but I have to get to class soon. What do you need?"

Bryce mumbles something and shakes his head.

"I found some money for that parking ticket. So you just give it on back. Your mama will take care of it." She says it like she's doing me a favor, like it's my ticket and not hers.

"What do you mean you found money? From where?"

"You let me worry about that. Just drop it off tonight."

"I'm going out tonight."

"With Bryce?"

"No. A guy from class." The sick feeling in my stomach is getting worse. "Mom, tell me you didn't...do something with the neighbor."

She laughs. "I haven't even seen him for days."

"Just tell me where you got the money." My feet are now tapping the floor, my nerves completely on edge.

"Give me the phone," Bryce says, holding out his hand.

"Why?"

"Just give it to me." He takes it from me. "Hey, Rita, it's Bryce." He listens for several long seconds, his eyes on me the entire time. His face tenses up and his jaw clenches and I'm prepared for him to yell at her but instead he says, "Yeah, got it. I'll tell her." Then he ends the call.

"What did she say?"

"She said to tell you goodbye and to have a good day."

"I'm talking about the ticket." I take my phone back. "What did she say?"

"That she sold one of her ugly trinkets and got some cash. Enough to pay for the ticket."

"That doesn't make sense. If she got money, she'd use it to go out and buy clothes, or cigarettes, or she'd get her nails done or go to the tanning place. The last thing she'd do is pay that ticket."

He shrugs. "Maybe she decided to be an adult for once. I can go to your apartment and get it, then swing by and drop it off at your mom's house on my way back to work."

"Could you? Because I don't want to go there again. After yesterday, I need a break from her."

"Is the ticket still sitting on the table?"

"It's on the kitchen counter." I check the time. "I really need to go or I'll be late."

We get up and Bryce brings our trays to the trash. I notice some girls checking him out. This happens wherever we go and I hate it. He's tall and muscular and has gorgeous blue eyes, so I get why girls stare but I don't want them looking at him. I want him to be mine, not theirs.

When we get outside, I hug him. "Thanks for lunch. And thanks for dropping off the ticket. You're the best friend ever."

He pulls away. "You better get to class."

"Yeah. Okay. Bye." I take my backpack from him and head toward campus.

I still have that sick feeling in my stomach. I'm so stressed right now. And it's not just my mom causing the stress. It's everything. Classes. Work. Trying to find a job for after I graduate. And Bryce. He's a big source of my stress because he won't tell me how he feels. He knows I'm looking for jobs all over the country and yet he hasn't said anything about it. Why isn't he telling me to stay in Chicago? We're best friends. Does he really want me to go?

Before I go into the business building, I call my friend, Callie, who's engaged to Bryce's older brother, Nash. "Hey, what are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Bringing dinner to the guys. They're helping Bryce out with that kitchen remodel. Why?"

"I could really use a girls' night out."

"Okay. Let's do it. Where do you want to go?"

"Maybe to a club? I don't know. I just have to get out and do something."

"Did something happen with Bryce?"

Callie knows about my issues with Bryce. We talk about him all the time.

"No. Well, kind of. It's also my mom. And school. And just a lot of things. And it's the start of spring break. I feel like I need to go out."

"That's right. I forgot it was spring break." Callie goes to a different college and had spring break weeks ago. "I'll come pick you up on my way to meet the guys. We'll have dinner with them and then head out. Sound good?"

"Yeah. I have to get to class. I'll call you later."

I wasn't planning to see Bryce tomorrow but I guess I'm going to. Callie's always trying to find ways to get Bryce and me together. So are his brothers, and his dad. They're constantly telling him to date me. But Bryce isn't interested, which is why I'm going out with Chad tonight. I'm trying to move on and give other guys a chance but I'm not really looking forward to this date tonight.

Chad picks me up at exactly seven-thirty. I don't invite him in. I'm in a hurry to get the date started so it can end. That's a horrible attitude, I know, but I'm really tired from class and work and don't feel like going out.

We go to a local brewery that's not far from campus. They have great food and I like the atmosphere. The only problem is I usually come here with Bryce, so it's strange being here with someone else.

We order our food and each get a beer, and then the awkward silence begins. I'm so bad on first dates. I never know what to say. Chad isn't saying much either. We talk in class but it's different when it's a date.

"Ready for the test tomorrow?" he asks.

"I think so. I studied a couple hours this morning after work."

The waitress drops off our beers.

"What time did you have to work?" Chad asks.

"From five to nine. I always have the breakfast shift on weekdays." I take a drink of my beer.

"I thought you said you had to work this afternoon."

"That was my job at the bookstore. I worked there from four-thirty to seven."

"And you also work at the library? How do you work all those jobs and also go to class?"

"I've been doing it for years so I'm used to it. Next week I only have the restaurant job. I don't know what I'll do with all that free time."

"Sleep." He smiles.

I smile back. "Yeah, I could use some sleep." I reach for his beer but then stop myself. When Bryce and I come here, we always get different beers and I take a sip of his to taste it and he does the same with mine. We always share drinks when we go out.

"Could I try yours?" I point to Chad's beer.

He looks at me funny. "Um, I guess." He slides the glass over an inch. It's clear he doesn't want me drinking it.

"That's okay. It's fine. I'd just never tried that one before."

"I can order you one."

"No. Never mind. I'm good." I take another drink of my beer. "So you're going to Miami next week?"

"Yeah. I've got some friends there. They have a boat so we'll get out on the water, hang out on the beach."

When he said 'boat' I imagined his hair not moving as the boat sped through the water. I shouldn't be thinking that, but I'm staring at his hair and it's so stiff. It's like it's plastered to his head. And that big side part is way too old of a style for him. Bryce spikes his up in front, like other guys his age do. Why can't Chad do that? At least he wore jeans tonight instead of those khaki pants.

Our meals arrive and the conversation goes back to talking about our classes and then he tells me about his internship. Instead of a date, it feels like we're back at school, waiting for class to start. We have nothing else to talk about but our classes. By the time we're done eating, I think we both know this isn't going anywhere.

"Well, I should get home," I say. "I want to study a little more before tomorrow."

"Good idea. I should do the same."

As he's driving me back to my apartment, he says, "So who were you having lunch with today?"

For a minute I almost forgot I saw Chad there. "That was Bryce. He's a friend of mine."

"I'm guessing he's not a student."

"No. He works for his dad." I get my keys out because we're almost at my apartment. "So why did you assume he wasn't a student?"

"He doesn't look like one."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He laughs a little. "The guy's covered in tattoos."

"So if a guy has tattoos he can't go to college?"

"That's not what I'm saying. But look around. Do you ever see guys like him on campus?"

"That doesn't mean he couldn't go to college. Bryce is just as smart as anyone else."

"Maybe, but nobody's going to take him seriously covered in all that ink."

Chad pulls up next to my apartment building. He keeps the engine running because he knows I'm not inviting him inside. The evening wasn't horrible, but it took a turn for the worse when he said those things about Bryce. Chad can tell that I'm mad.

"Thanks for dinner." I open the door and get out. "See you after spring break." I close his door a little too hard, then hurry inside.

As soon as I get up to my apartment I call Bryce. Whenever I'm angry or sad, and need to talk to someone, he's the one I call.

"Hey, it's me," I say when he picks up. "Are you still at work?"

"Yeah. Why? Do you need something?"

"I just wanted to see if you made it to my mom's house earlier."

"Yeah. I dropped off the ticket."

"Did you guys talk?"

"No. I was in a hurry to get back here."

I hear Jake and Nash talking in the background and then the sound of a drill.

"I should let you go. I know you're busy. I'll just talk to—"

"Jen, no. It's fine. Just let me go outside where it's not so loud." I hear a door open and close and then it's quiet. "So what happened? Is this about your date? Was Khaki Pants being an ass?"

I laugh. "He didn't wear those tonight. He wore jeans. And he was fine. We just didn't click." I'm not going to tell Bryce what Chad said about him, but in that regard, yes, he
was
an ass.

"So you're home now?"

"Yeah. I have to study. I have a test tomorrow. I just wanted to say hi." It's more than that. I called because I wanted to hear his voice, because just hearing it makes me feel better.

"Jen, what's wrong?"

He always knows when something's wrong. He can tell by just the slightest change in my voice or my body language or the words I use. He knows me better than anyone else.

"I just..." Without warning, I start crying. Like a complete idiot. I don't even know why I'm doing it. Maybe because I'm still upset that Chad made that comment about Bryce not being college material.

I'm very protective of Bryce, just like he's protective of me. I don't stand for people putting him down, and the whole school thing is a sensitive topic. Bryce struggled all through school, and some of the kids made fun of him for it, so I get really upset when someone implies he's not smart.

"Jen, I'm coming over." Bryce has that frantic tone he gets whenever he's worried something's happened to me.

"No, don't. I'm fine." I sniffle and take a breath.

"You're not fine. You're crying. What's wrong? Is it your mom?"

"No. I'm just stressed. Between classes and work and all the tests I've had this week, I'm just really tired. I need to study and then go to sleep."

I hear his truck engine starting up. "I'm still coming over."

"No. Bryce. I'm fine. Really. Go back to work."

"You sure? Because I can—"

"I'm sure. Nothing's wrong. It's just stress. This week has totally drained me."

"Why don't we hang out this weekend? I'll go over there and we'll watch movies and pig out on junk food."

"You have to work this weekend."

"Shit, that's right. I forgot. How about next week? You don't have class. I could take Monday off. After all the hours I've put in this week, I could use a day off. What do you think?"

"Maybe. I have to check my schedule at the restaurant. My hours are changing because of spring break. We'll talk about it later." I smile. "Thanks for listening to me ramble on like a crazy person. Sorry I cried."

"You don't have to be sorry. And you're not crazy. Get some sleep. And if you can't sleep, call me back. I'll tell you about all the different types of drill bits. That'll put you to sleep within seconds."

I laugh. "Okay. Goodnight, Bryce."