Page 12 of Faking it With the Player Next Door

The man reached for the door handle, opened it, and slipped away. I turned my attention back to Hunter and inhaled to control my anger. I’m not sure why I was so mad, but I was not going to allow my brother to run my life. I was twenty-five years old and didn’t need him to be my keeper.

“What I do is my business,” I glowered and crossed my arms. “I don’t need, or want, you to tell me what I can, or can’t do.”

“Taylor,” Hunter shook his head and began pacing around the deck.

“Hunter,” Van broke in. “It was all innocent.”

“Innocent?” Hunter scoffed and stopped walking. “I saw my best friend kissing my little sister, who, if I remind you, is still getting over a bad relationship.”

“I know that,” Van replied.

“You do?” I frowned, glancing at Van.

How did he know? I never told anyone but Hunter.

“I do,” Van replied, not taking his eyes off Hunter.

“How?” I gasped. “Did you tell him?” I darted my eyes to my brother. “What did you tell him?”

Mortification filled my body, and tears welled up in my eyes. If Hunter had told Van, or anyone else in town what happened between Travis and me, I would be so embarrassed.

“Just that Travis hurt you,” Hunter replied.

“Oh, Hunter!” I threw my hands up and walked away from the two of them. “Why would you do that!”

I followed where Pastor Pierce had disappeared into the house, slamming the door in my wake. I marched through the kitchen, ran up the stairs, and stomped into my bedroom. Walking to the window, I glanced down at the back deck and saw Hunter still talking to Van.

Hunter’s anger seemed less evident, and Van seemed to be explaining the situation. Van was pacing the back deck, tossing his hands in the air every so often as he spoke, and every so usually Hunter would say a few words.

Watching the two of them softened my anger, and I sighed. Hunter had always been the best brother to me, from protecting me when we were kids and I was being teased to making sure I was taking my studies seriously when I was in college.

When Gram passed away, Hunter drove to my school and picked me up. He didn’t want me to drive the long distancealone, and I was grateful. I was devastated by Gram’s passing and remembered crying back to Coleman, as Hunter held my hand across the front seat console.

He began telling stories from our childhood, and the silly things Gram would say or do. By the time we arrived in her driveway hours later, we were laughing so hard we were crying—tears of happiness and love instead of sadness and pain.

When we exited Hunter’s car, Van was standing on Gram’s front porch waiting for us. He strode to Hunter first, shook his hand and they hugged. They whispered to one another, then Van walked up to me.

He opened his arms, and I immediately fell into his embrace. He held me for what seemed like an eternity, and when we parted, he took my face in his hands and smiled. I’ll never forget the way his dark brown eyes connected with mine that night.

Van was not only Hunter’s best friend, but I also considered him one of my closest friends. He knew most of my secrets and was my second protector when Hunter wasn’t around. Van was there when I accidentally crashed my bicycle into the hedges down the road and was a tangled and scraped-up mess.

He helped me get my bike tires out of the bush and wiped away my tears. He carried my bike home, as the front tire frame was bent beyond being ridden again. After we got into Gram’s garage, Van promised to fix the bike for me, and I told him not to bother. I was never going to ride that bike again.

Glancing at the garage, I wondered if that pink bike, with a banana seat and purple glitter tassels hanging from the handlebars, was still in there. Bent tire frame and all.

Van walking back to his childhood home broke me from my reverie, and I saw Hunter glance up at my bedroom window. He didn’t smile. He didn’t wave. He didn’t acknowledge I was watching him. He just shook his head and walked into the house.

I heard the screen door slam behind him and was waiting for his stomping up the stairs, leading to the bedrooms. Seconds later, I closed my eyes and held my breath. I was half hoping Hunter would come up here so I could go off on him more about sharing my private circumstances with Travis and the breakup.

Revving up my anger again, I listened for Hunter’s arrival. When I heard the front door close, my eyes sprung open and I actually felt relief. As much as I wanted to have my say, and let my brother know how mad I was at him, I knew having this conversation now would result in some words that I shouldn’t say.

The last thing I wanted was for everyone to know that Travis had a drug problem and that I was agoody-two-shoesfor not wanting to be with him because of it. It just wasn’t my preferred way to have a relationship, or marriage, with someone with an addiction.

I was amazed that Travis had hidden his illegal habit from me for who knows how long. When his father learned about what happened after I called off the wedding, he blew up. I had been in my office, which was next to Travis’ when his father barreled into his offspring’s office.

I could hear Duncan’s booming voice through the walls, and I shuttered. After about five minutes, Duncan’s voice disappeared and I heard a door slam. Hearing the abrupt noise caused me to jump in my seat. I expected Duncan to slam through my door, and I recalled sitting behind my desk, holding my breath and waiting.

When my office door remained closed and the towering man didn’t evolve in front of me, I released the breath I’d been holding.

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