Page 73 of Someone to Have
He glances over my shoulder toward Eric.
“Hell, no.” Eric holds up his hands. “Don’t look at me for rescue. I fucked up with my sister way worse than you. But listen to what she’s saying, okay?”
“What do you think of the house, Taylor?” Toby grumbles.
“I think there’s a lot of updating to be done, but it’s got good bones. The kitchen is perfect just the way it is, which will savemoney. The tile in both bathrooms is neutral and in decent shape, so most of the work there is cosmetic. You’ll need an oil-based primer for this paneling, both because it’s dark and smells like a decade’s worth of Marlboro Light cartons died in the walls.”
I take a breath but continue before Toby can stop me. “Nothing on the inside gives me any pause. I haven’t looked at the plumbing or electrical, but?—”
“They’re in good shape,” he says, sounding slightly gob-smacked.
“What about the foundation and roof?”
“Both solid.” He reaches out and grabs me around the neck, pulling me forward and rubbing the knuckles of his free hand against the top of my head. “Just like my baby sister. You nailed it, Tink.”
“Stop, Toby,” I squirm against his grip, my dignity dissolving with every passing second, but he holds tight. “I hate noogies.”
“You love mine. Don’t lie. I’m legit impressed, lil sis. We should have put you on the payroll years ago.”
“I have zero desire to work for the business.” I reach around to pinch the skin under his armpit. He lets out a yelp of pain and releases me. “But it would be nice for you all to admit on occasion that I might have something to contribute above and beyond being the punchline of most of the family jokes.”
“Weteaseyou,” he says as I straighten my hair and pretend my fingers aren’t shaking. I’ve never called either of my siblings out on how they treat me like I don’t matter, or how much it bothers me. To be honest, I’ve always worried that if I didn’t take the ribbing from them, I wouldn’t have any place in my family. “It’s all in good fun. You know that, right?”
I don’t answer. I can’t because I’m trying hard not to cry.
“Jesus, Tink, you’re the best part of this family. You’re smarter than any of us, and...well, we love you. Duh.”
“Duh,” I whisper. “I love you, too.”
“You seriously nailed all the things.” He glances at Eric again then back at me. “Which is the only thing getting nailed, right?”
My cheeks bloom with color, which I hope he attributes to him making a public spectacle of me again and not the secret I’m keeping. I swat his arm. “Don’t be a jackass, Toby. You know fuckboy athletes aren’t my type.”
The awful words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. It’s nerves and fear about my brother’s reaction that cause them, but as I meet Eric’s steady gaze, I hate myself for going so far. “No offense,” I mutter, like that should make a difference.
His smile holds no humor. “None taken.” The response is casual, but I don’t miss the muscle ticking in his jaw.
“A fuckboy.” Toby laughs and shakes his head. “Our girl Tink has teeth. Who knew?” He chucks me on the shoulder. “Nice burn,” he says, then turns to Eric. “She started it, so feel free to let loose on how granny-panty-wearing bookworms aren’t your type either.”
Here it comes. I steel myself for the retaliatory burn. One that I deserve.
He stares at me for a long beat then shrugs. “I need to drop a form off at the high school on my way back to the job site. Can you drop your sister at the library?” He makes a show of checking his watch. “I think her lunch hour is over.”
My stomach twists with guilt as Eric walks away. The distance in his eyes feels like a wall I’ve built with my own stupid words. He has to know I didn’t mean it, but I can’t help but think I’ve ruined something special before it really had a chance to begin.
22
TAYLOR
Despite the messI made with Eric this afternoon, I did awesome at tonight’s rehearsal. Don’t get me wrong, the brightest Broadway stars have nothing to worry about. But we ran through the scene where I have five solo lines, and I delivered them without stuttering or hyperventilating.
I even managed to speak loudly enough that Myrna, sitting in the back row, gave me a fist pump and confirmed to Bryan that she heard every word.
When I came off stage, my head and heart were buzzing. Several other supporting cast members crowded around me for hugs and back slaps—way more encouragement than the moment warranted.
It brought front and center how much time and energy I spend focusing on the lack of support in my life.
The highlight reel of my embarrassing life moments haunts me. I’ve let fear live rent-free inside my mind for so long, and I’m still afraid. Afraid I’ll do well at rehearsal, but it won’t translate to opening night. Afraid the people supporting me are secretly talking about what a pathetic loser I am behind my back. Afraid that I’ll never be enough.
