Page 48 of Never You

“I hardly believe that.”

“Just drop it.”

“Come on, babe. We have a very long road ahead of us. You’re gonna ignore me the entire way?”

Her head snaps my way. “You’re gonna keep talking my ear off if I do?”

“You bet your ass I am.”

“I hate you.” Her eyes narrow, and her nose scrunches like before, resulting in a warm fuzzy feeling forming inside of me as I look into her adorable face.

“I highly doubt that. Nobody can hate me,” I pipe up with a smirk.

“Your mother,” Bodi chimes in from the backseat. “Leo from tenth grade. The mailman you keep calling names. I bet Emily hates you right now. Really, the list is endless.”

I glare over my shoulder, meeting his smug smile with those gleaming eyes.

Asshole.

“Okay, we get it.” Turning back, I glance at Rae staring at me with her mouth open in shock. “What?”

“Your mother hates you?”

“Not sure if she hates me—”

“She hates him,” Bodi interrupts while his fingers never stop typing.

“Thank you for your input, Australian dickhead,” I seethe, then answer Rae’s question. “We don’t really get along.”

Though that might be the understatement of the year.

Kathleen Jensen always adored her oldest boy, the good-looking boy that knew how to behave and when. I think she might love my seventeen-year-old sister Della, motivated by the fact that she can treat her as her own personal clone. But I was the boy that came home with dirt on his clothes, split lips, and messy hair. I was the one who always messed up her plans, even when I didn’t mean to, and she never tried to hide her resentment.

“How come?” Genuine curiosity is written on her face, along with a pinch of pity that annoys me.

I don’t want pity from anyone.

“Because I’m not my brother? Because I don’t do everything she wants? Because I annoy her?” I shrug. “Who knows, really?”

“You annoy everyone. That’s not enough reason to hate someone.”

“Gee,thanks.Are both of you done insulting me?”

“Never.”

I roll my eyes, then hold her gaze for a few seconds. “So, youdon’thate me anymore?”

“Don’t change the subject.” She scowls, though I can see amusement etched on her lips.

“Tell you what,” I start, “how about I tell you about my mother and you tell me about Johnny?”

A heavy grunt rumbles from her throat as she rolls her eyes, then slouches down in her seat like a child.

“Fine.”

“You go first.”

“What? Why?!” she cries, giving me a wary look.

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