Page 11 of Daddy's Mail Order Mate

I roll my eyes and throw up a hand, cutting him off with a dry retort.

“We’ve done this song and dance for years. How about we get to the part where we agree it’s not worth fighting about and spare us both the energy. I’ve got way too much on my plate and you don’t want to have come all this way just to lose an argument with me.”

“I don’tloseour arguments—”

“You do,” I state plainly. “And we’ve hadthisargument before. So, do you want to do it again, or do you want to go get lunch?”

His expression sours, but I know my brother, and just give him the trace of a smirk as I stand up.

“Gimme five to look like something resembling a human being, and I’ll be ready to go.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

And with that, I excuse myself to the narrow little bathroom to slip into a clean set of clothes, comb out my hair, and at least brush my teeth. And I sure as hell didn’t have it in me to fuss around with anything more than the bare essentials. Once I get my shoes slid on and myself sorted, we head down the dingy stairwell. By the time we get to the ground floor, all I can think about is how I am not gonna miss the sour melange of mold and mildew this place always reeks of.

“I managed to get a decent spot,” he remarks, leading me outside towards a brand new red truck, kitted out with lifted tires and all.

I shoot him a bland, almost exasperated look.

“Really?”

Lucas just shrugs and grins.

“Hey man. I like it, the girls like it, and I never belly out with all the backwoods roads.”

His keys jostle as he rounds to the driver’s side and unlocks it for us.

“Must be a pain for the city, though.”

“Yeah… Parking’s been a nightmare. All the more reason for me to be happy my big sis might be leaving for somewhere quieter?” The question curls with a leading half-jesting tone, his charming jovial smile, and a carefully playful quirk of the brows.

I scoff in dry amusement, shake my head, and rid myself of the quiet smile he managed to get out of me as we both load into the cabin.

“Leave it to you to leverage the grim news of my eviction like that.”

“Likewhat?” His tone is mockingly obtuse, and damn it, I can’t help but chuckle.

“Like the cheeky little brat you’ve always been,” I answer, reaching across to playfully smack him on the back of the head.

“Hey! Keep that up and I’m turning this truck around.”

“We haven’t even left park yet.”

“I’ll turn it on just to turn it around.”

And that makes me cave into a proper round of laughter, loosening a bit of the stress gnarling in my chest. But when I see the glow of his satisfied grin, I sober by reflex into a slightly dour, narrow glare.

“Well, don’t you look all puffed up and pleased with yourself, mister.”

“Of course. I got you to laugh for once in your goddamn life.”

“I routinely laugh. I just need things to actually be funny enough to make me laugh.”

“Hey,” he pouts as he starts the truck, “I’mexceptionallyfunny.”

“Seems odd that you’d need to justify it, if that was really the case.”

He glares over at me and my mouth twitches towards a smirk. But then he throws up his hands, shakes his head, and begins to pull the truck out onto the street proper.

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