Page 30 of Crew
He frowned. "I wasn't expecting that response."
"It's your decision, but do you really want to stay at Jordan's full time?"
He grinned. "Who said I was thinking about Jordan's place?"
I looked at him. An uneasy emotion began in my gut, filling me up until one of those damn knots was back in place. "Mine? My brother would go nuts."
He stretched his legs out and reached for a handful of rocks. He tossed a couple, which sank into the tall grass at the bottom of the hill. "I don't think your brother would notice, but if he did, I think he'd understand. If anyone understood, it'd be him. Besides, your brother loves me. What's the problem?"
I snorted.
Love was a stretch. More like Channing put up with Cross.
He was the least of his worries. Jordan was usually instigating a fight. Zellman was a laughing hyena--Channing's words, not mine. But Cross, he was steady. He was good. He was my best friend, and my brother knew things weren't romantic between us.
Cross was the only one Channing might be okay having live with us. That was a big might though.
"We could sneak you in," I said. "He might like it, actually. I'd be home more than I am now. He's always bitching about that."
Cross laughed. He began flinging the small rocks harder and harder. The last one hit the road, rolling into the middle. He was holding back. He could hurl 'em all the way to my old house's front lawn if he wanted.
"Want me to live in your closet?"
I laughed. "Why not? It's good enough for me."
We shared a grin. I used to curl up in bed with him. That changed around puberty. There were wet dreams, we both smelled, and we had awkward breath in the middle of the night. Cross never asked me to move, but I did. I'd gone through a phase where one zit meant the world was going to end. I liked to think I was more sane now.
But it never had to be the closet. It was his closet, his home, his room. It was him. I felt safe.
"Speaking of that, are you really going to take on Sunday Barnes?" he asked. "Isn't that below us?"
"She was planning the first attack. Rumors. Whispers. That sort of thing. You know, the coward way."
He sighed, tossed the last of the small rocks, and stood up. Offering a hand to me, he nodded toward town. "Come on. Let's go do something about her. I'm in the mood to stir shit up."
I took his hand, stood, and dusted off my jeans. "What do you have in mind?"
"I don't know." He put the whiskey bottle underneath a bush, then led the way back. "I'm improvising."
I trailed behind him, but right where we would've disappeared into the trees, I turned back. My old house remained in my view, and I could see the lights on inside. The mother walked past in an upstairs bedroom, one of the kids in her arms. She had her arms wrapped so lovingly around him. The little boy wore a towel, the yellow hood almost covering his head.
My throat swelled up. Why I had a problem breathing lately was beyond me. It was annoying.
"Bren?"
I swallowed, forcing whatever emotion had been rising away. "Coming."
This had started out as a normal evening for me. I'd been content.
I wasn't anymore.
Now I was ready to stir shit up too.
"Yeah?" Cross was on the phone with his sister.
We'd returned to Jordan's, and all of us now stood around Cross' truck, waiting for the final word.
He bent his head down. "The girls left then?"
