Page 55 of The Bro Date
“Is everything okay?” he asks.
“No. I need to make a pit stop at my mom’s place on the way home.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
TOBY
I’m worried about Shane. He bottles up negative emotions like a shaken soda can ready to pop. He was never taught to express his feelings in a healthy manner, suppressing them for years on end.Just like me.
We pull into the driveway behind a pickup truck older than Shane’s. He grips the steering wheel, squeezing tightly. “You’ve got to be kidding . . .”
“What?” I ask, slightly alarmed. “What’s wrong?”
“That motherfucker is seriously here right now?”
“Who?” I sound like a parrot, but Shane isn’t telling me anything.
“Buck. My mom’s ex-boyfriend and soon-to-be dead man.”
“Shane, stop. Don’t say that.”
Dark, fathomless eyes turn to me, shining with long-repressed pain and anger. “Stay here.”
“What?!” I shout at such a ludicrous request. “No way, Shane. I’m not letting you do something stupid, not after we just had an amazing date. Irefuseto let it end like this.”
“I won’t do anything stupid. Just gonna talk to him,” he tries to reason, but I know him better than that. For being so calm and mellow, Shane has been in a few fights over the years.
“Then I’ll come with you,” I retort stubbornly. “Since you’re just going to talk.”
“Toby,” Shane growls under his breath.
“Oh, come on. I haven’t seen your mom in forever. I wanna check on her, too,” I insist. “Let me have your back like you always have mine.”
Shane stares at me for a moment, contemplating his next move before he darts forward, kissing me unexpectedly and resting his forehead against mine. “Stay next to me,” he whispers.
I peck his lips one last time before we hop out of the truck and walk up to the tiny, unkempt house that Shane grew up in. Dead bushes line the front porch, and the grass is mostly dirt and sand. The roof is missing half its shingles, and the front shutters are hanging on by a couple of nails. It almost looks like it came out of a horror movie, and that’s what it feels like when Buck answers the door with an evil, smug grin on his face.
“You need to call before ya just stop by like this, boy,” he sneers. “Go away.”
Shane sticks his foot in the doorway, stopping it from shutting. “You don’t live here, Buck. Now move out of my way. Where’s my mom?” Shane pushes his way inside the house, and I follow, practically glued to his back and nearly tripping over his heels.
“She’s taking a nap,” Buck says, acting shifty and blocking the bedroom door.
“Move, creep,” Shane growls.
We push past him and barge into Shane’s mom’s bedroom, where she’s resting in bed with her ankle propped up on a pillow.
“We just had a disagreement, is all,” Buck says defensively, folding his arms across his chest and resting them on top of his beer belly.
“Shaney? What are you doing here?” his mom asks groggily.
“Checking on you, Mom. What the hell is going on? What’shedoing here?”
“Show some respect, boy,” Buck retorts, and the sound of his slimy voice makes my skin crawl.
Shane will never respect the asshole who purposely burned his entire origami collection last winter when they ran out of firewood, claiming he thought it was a box of trash. I helped Shane grab the rest of his shit after that, not leaving a single thing behind. Luckily, our house on campus has an attic, so he can store all of his belongings.
“Don’t speak to me like that,” Shane growls, practically vibrating next to me. I grab his wrist for a second, stopping him from stepping up to Buck. I refuse to let this amazing date end with violence. He looks down at me for a second, saying a million things to me without even moving his mouth.
