Page 2 of Wright Kind of Trouble

Which was fair.

Our family was…complicated.

To say the least.

See, our dad was a cheating bastard. In fact, he’d had a whole other family in Vancouver for years before he ever found our mom on a business trip in Seattle for Wright Construction, our family’s namesake. Jordan and his younger brother, Julian, were his kids from his “real” family, and Whitt, West, and I were his dirty little secret. We’d all discovered it a few years ago and confronted Dad about it. I never wanted to talk to his lying face ever again. The boys were more conflicted. Though I didn’t see what was conflicting about it. I’d never let someone treat me the way Owen Wright had treated my mom.

As luck would have it, Jordan and Julian had moved out of Vancouver to dry, dusty Lubbock, Texas, where the headquarters for the family business were located. West followed while pursuing his music. Then, I got a full-ride scholarship to Texas Tech University, and with the prospect of me leaving, Whitt had agreed to come too.

I’d felt bad leaving Mom behind in Seattle. We’d even tried to convince her to come with, but her job and friends and aging parents still lived in town. She’d spent her whole life there. Even if she wanted to move for us, she couldn’t. Not yet at least.

“Hey, Mom!” West said, veering into the picture and waving.

Her eyes lit up. “West. I heard that you and your brother were bickering.”

Whitt leaned over. “We were doing no such thing.”

“Correct,” West agreed. “Whitt was trying to dictate what I should wear.”

Our mom’s eyes raked his tie-less button-up. “Are you wearing Converse?”

Whitt and I both cracked up and said, “Yes,” at the same time.

West shot us a dirty look.

“It’s fine, Mom,” he grumbled.

“I want you to dress appropriate for your brother’s wedding,” she said.

“You should have come,” I told her. “Bonus mom!”

She laughed at that addition. “I’ll come back down eventually. Just couldn’t get away from work and Grandma.”

I exchanged a look with my brothers. Grandma and Grandpa’s health had been in decline for years. It was running Mom ragged. We all worried and missed her. The only time she’d come to visit was to move me into my dorm.

“Next time,” Whitt said tactfully. “We should get going.”

“Okay. Love you three. Have fun and send me pictures when you can!”

We all agreed that we would.

I hung up the phone and put it back in my purse. “Shall we?”

The boys nodded, and then we headed out to my little Kia. Mom had wanted to get me something fancier for the fucking horrid twenty-seven-hour drive from Seattle to Lubbock. But I knew that fancier meant money from Owen, which meant strings attached, which meant hell. So, I’d been happy with what we could afford. She’d served me well enough so far.

Not that Whitt agreed. “I should just drive the Lexus,” he said, looking mournfully toward the garage where his shiny silver car rested.

“Sure,” I said automatically. A wicked smile coming to my face. “And since I’m the DD, I can drive you all home in it later.”

Whitt blanched. “Fine. No. You’re not driving my car.”

Whitt didn’t let anyone drive his big-boy car. So, it was my Kia after all.

West piled into the backseat, and Whitt took the passenger as I sank into the driver’s side and connected my phone. David Bowie blared through the speakers.

Whitt jerked to life and reached for the stereo. “Christ, do you even have eardrums at that volume?”

I blinked at him lazily. “Earsplitting is the only volume to listen to David Bowie.”

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