Until You
Page 16
Mr. Brandt’s company had sent him to Germany last spring, so I’d been checking on the house and collecting mail since May.
Madoc looked at me like I just told him he couldn’t have ice cream for dessert. “Bummer, dude. But she’s probably thrilled,” he added. “She hated us.”
A twinge of amusement crept into my chest. Yeah, she sure did.
When Mr. Brandt had told me about his trip, I’d had another party at my house that night. Instead of getting drunk elsewhere, I had no problem getting wasted at home. And it helped.
I’d expected Tate to be back from France this past June when the school year ended, but when I found out that she wouldn’t be back until December now, I wanted to slam someone against a wall.
I loved hating her, and I wanted her f**king home.
But I just swallowed the ache like I’d been doing since last fall. I’d gotten used to going through the motions and pretending that shit didn’t matter.
And it was time to dive deep again.
“Let’s go.” I grabbed Piper’s hand and started for my car.
“But I’m still wet. I need to change,” she whined.
“Yeah,” I said, smiling, “and I’m going to help.”
The roads were slick as hell. It hadn’t rained much this summer, and all of the oil buildup on the street had me constantly fishtailing.
But it’s not like I had the sense to slow down, either.
I sped up onto my driveway and into the garage, even though I knew I shouldn’t be in a rush. Nothing waiting for me but quiet at my house, and I didn’t like quiet.
Closing the garage, I walked through the door leading to the kitchen, peeled off my black T-shirt, and threw it into the laundry room basket. Piper was all over it.
“Hey, man,” I greeted Madman as he came racing down the stairs. “Come on.”
Opening the backdoor so he could do his business, I left it open and ran upstairs to plug in my dead cell phone.
As soon as I’d turned it on, I saw that I had a voicemail from Tate’s dad.
Why is he calling?
We’d just texted a few days ago. He’d checked in on me and his house.
I wasn’t sure what he wanted now, but either way, I wasn’t calling him back tonight.
I jerked my head, a shrill scratching against my window panes causing me to jump.
“Goddamn tree.” I tossed my phone on the bed and stalked over to pull up the blinds. This tree between Tate’s and my window was a f**king nuisance. We constantly had to trim it, because it was threatening to puncture holes into the house. I’d told my mother this spring to just have it cut down, but it was technically on the Brandt’s property, and I guess they wanted to keep it.
Mr. Brandt kept it trimmed normally, but he never cut it back very far. I could still reach the branches, even after it’d been trimmed.
Pulling up the window and leaning out, I spied the branch sliding against the panes above me. With him gone, I’d have to take care of that tomorrow.
The rain was coming down in sheets and made everything glisten under the bright glow of the streetlights. I let my gaze wander through the maze of branches, shaking off memories of which ones I’d scraped my leg on or which ones I’d sat on with Tate.
I loved the damn tree, and I wanted it cut down.
And then…I didn’t even see the tree anymore.
My eyes caught sunshine in a midnight sky, and I f**king stilled.
Tate?
“What the hell?” I whispered, breathless and not blinking.
She was standing in her bedroom, leaning on the doorframe of her open French doors. And she was staring at me.
What the hell am I seeing right now?
She was supposed to be in Germany with her dad, at least until Christmas.
Every muscle in my body tightened as I supported myself on the window sill, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from her. It was like I was in an alternate universe, starving, and she was a f**king buffet.
She was home.
I closed my eyes for a moment and swallowed down my heartbeat that was creeping up my throat. I was sick, excited, and grateful all at the same time.
Jesus, she’s home.
She wore some little pajama shorts and a white tank top. Not really so different from what I’d noticed she wore to bed a year ago, but for some reason, the sight of her was like a raging fire through my chest. I wanted to rip through the f**king tree and peel all the clothes off of her and love her like the past three years had never happened.
Her hair blew around her, and I could feel her eyes, locked in shadow, on me.
My mouth was dry, and the rush of breath and blood through my body felt so damn good.
Until she backed up and closed the doors.
No. I swallowed, not wanting her to go away.
Go on. Go pick a fight, I told myself, but I shook my head.
No. Just leave her alone. She hasn’t been thinking about me, and I needed to get over it.
I was crawling the walls inside my head, knowing for fact that I needed to grow up and let her be. Let her go to school without rumors and pranks hovering over her. Let her be happy. We were nearly adults now, and this petty shit had to end.
But…
I’d just felt more alive in the past ten seconds than I had in a year.
Seeing that face, knowing I’d wake up to her blaring music and seeing her leave the house to jog in the morning…
My phone buzzed with a text, and I walked over to check it.
It was from Tate’s dad.
Change of plans. Tate’s home. On her own until Christmas. Give her back the house key, and be nice. Or else.
Madoc looked at me like I just told him he couldn’t have ice cream for dessert. “Bummer, dude. But she’s probably thrilled,” he added. “She hated us.”
A twinge of amusement crept into my chest. Yeah, she sure did.
When Mr. Brandt had told me about his trip, I’d had another party at my house that night. Instead of getting drunk elsewhere, I had no problem getting wasted at home. And it helped.
I’d expected Tate to be back from France this past June when the school year ended, but when I found out that she wouldn’t be back until December now, I wanted to slam someone against a wall.
I loved hating her, and I wanted her f**king home.
But I just swallowed the ache like I’d been doing since last fall. I’d gotten used to going through the motions and pretending that shit didn’t matter.
And it was time to dive deep again.
“Let’s go.” I grabbed Piper’s hand and started for my car.
“But I’m still wet. I need to change,” she whined.
“Yeah,” I said, smiling, “and I’m going to help.”
The roads were slick as hell. It hadn’t rained much this summer, and all of the oil buildup on the street had me constantly fishtailing.
But it’s not like I had the sense to slow down, either.
I sped up onto my driveway and into the garage, even though I knew I shouldn’t be in a rush. Nothing waiting for me but quiet at my house, and I didn’t like quiet.
Closing the garage, I walked through the door leading to the kitchen, peeled off my black T-shirt, and threw it into the laundry room basket. Piper was all over it.
“Hey, man,” I greeted Madman as he came racing down the stairs. “Come on.”
Opening the backdoor so he could do his business, I left it open and ran upstairs to plug in my dead cell phone.
As soon as I’d turned it on, I saw that I had a voicemail from Tate’s dad.
Why is he calling?
We’d just texted a few days ago. He’d checked in on me and his house.
I wasn’t sure what he wanted now, but either way, I wasn’t calling him back tonight.
I jerked my head, a shrill scratching against my window panes causing me to jump.
“Goddamn tree.” I tossed my phone on the bed and stalked over to pull up the blinds. This tree between Tate’s and my window was a f**king nuisance. We constantly had to trim it, because it was threatening to puncture holes into the house. I’d told my mother this spring to just have it cut down, but it was technically on the Brandt’s property, and I guess they wanted to keep it.
Mr. Brandt kept it trimmed normally, but he never cut it back very far. I could still reach the branches, even after it’d been trimmed.
Pulling up the window and leaning out, I spied the branch sliding against the panes above me. With him gone, I’d have to take care of that tomorrow.
The rain was coming down in sheets and made everything glisten under the bright glow of the streetlights. I let my gaze wander through the maze of branches, shaking off memories of which ones I’d scraped my leg on or which ones I’d sat on with Tate.
I loved the damn tree, and I wanted it cut down.
And then…I didn’t even see the tree anymore.
My eyes caught sunshine in a midnight sky, and I f**king stilled.
Tate?
“What the hell?” I whispered, breathless and not blinking.
She was standing in her bedroom, leaning on the doorframe of her open French doors. And she was staring at me.
What the hell am I seeing right now?
She was supposed to be in Germany with her dad, at least until Christmas.
Every muscle in my body tightened as I supported myself on the window sill, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from her. It was like I was in an alternate universe, starving, and she was a f**king buffet.
She was home.
I closed my eyes for a moment and swallowed down my heartbeat that was creeping up my throat. I was sick, excited, and grateful all at the same time.
Jesus, she’s home.
She wore some little pajama shorts and a white tank top. Not really so different from what I’d noticed she wore to bed a year ago, but for some reason, the sight of her was like a raging fire through my chest. I wanted to rip through the f**king tree and peel all the clothes off of her and love her like the past three years had never happened.
Her hair blew around her, and I could feel her eyes, locked in shadow, on me.
My mouth was dry, and the rush of breath and blood through my body felt so damn good.
Until she backed up and closed the doors.
No. I swallowed, not wanting her to go away.
Go on. Go pick a fight, I told myself, but I shook my head.
No. Just leave her alone. She hasn’t been thinking about me, and I needed to get over it.
I was crawling the walls inside my head, knowing for fact that I needed to grow up and let her be. Let her go to school without rumors and pranks hovering over her. Let her be happy. We were nearly adults now, and this petty shit had to end.
But…
I’d just felt more alive in the past ten seconds than I had in a year.
Seeing that face, knowing I’d wake up to her blaring music and seeing her leave the house to jog in the morning…
My phone buzzed with a text, and I walked over to check it.
It was from Tate’s dad.
Change of plans. Tate’s home. On her own until Christmas. Give her back the house key, and be nice. Or else.
