Page 84 of Past the Broken Bridges

Picking up my phone, I don’t think about the time before hitting a favorited number in my contacts.

Bentley picks up after two rings. “Are you okay?”

He sounds wide awake at…damn.Almost two in the morning. “Were you gaming?”

I can hear something in the background before he mutters a quiet, “Maybe.”

Smiling to myself, I curl into the blankets. “I know Mom isn’t going to be happy if you fight her when she tries getting you up for church tomorrow.”

“I’m about to go to bed.”

Somehow, I doubt that.

“Are you… How are you feeling?” he asks, worry in his tone. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to call him. I don’t want him to concern himself over me.

“I miss you,” I start, nuzzling my cheek into the warm pillow, choosing not to tell him about yesterday’s incident. If Mom finds out that we talked, she’ll berate him until he admits what I’ve said. It’s better they don’t know about the days I struggle. “But I’m okay. I got to see a Mardi Gras parade, and I didn’t even need to show anybody my boobs.”

My little brother gags, which is exactly the response I hoped I’d get. “I’m sure Dad will be happy to hear that.”

I giggle. “How’s skiing going? Mom hasn’t said anything about you wiping out yet.”

The thirteen-year-old groans. “I’m terrible. I don’t know why I signed up. I can’t even get off the bunny slope.”

It’s hard to refrain from laughing. Would I be any better? I’m not so sure. “Whydidyou join?”

For a long moment, he’s quiet. I hear rustling and then a door closing before he says, “I think Mom and Dad worry about me.”

The answer makes me frown. “Why would you think that?”

“Because I don’t have any friends,” he murmurs, causing my frown to deepen. “I don’t think they minded as much when you were around because we’d go out together. But since you left…”

Closing my eyes, I stifle a sigh. “I’m sure they’re not worriedthe way you think. They just want you to be happy. Why else would they have let me come all the way down here?”

Bentley doesn’t answer right away, but when he does, my stomach dips. “It’s not the same for us, and you know it. They feel bad because of what you went through. They know that you…” He doesn’t finish his train of thought, but I have a feeling I know where it’s going.

“For the record, I never wanted their sympathy.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want yours either,” I add. I’ve always preferred it when he gave me crap. It made me feel normal to banter with somebody who wasn’t afraid to dish it back.

Maybe that’s why I like Banks so much.

Bentley doesn’t say anything right away. “I guess that’s good because it’d probably kill me to be nice to you.”

My grin returns. “Try not to eat shit during your next ski trip. It’d suck if you fell and made yourself uglier.”

He snorts. “Then I’d look more like you.”

“Goodnight, dweeb.”

“Goodnight, loser.”

When we hang up, I feel lighter.

As I plug my phone back into the charger, I stare up at the ceiling. The last thing I remember is Banks driving us to the apartment building and walking all of us in. Dixie followed me to my apartment while the boys stayed downstairs and murmured in quiet conversation among themselves. I’d fallen asleep watching reality TV with Dixie only hours after getting back.

I don’t remember getting into bed.

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