Page 66 of Love in Tandem
“What are you doing?” he wheezed.
“Trying to get down.”
“Pretty sure this is an illegal wrestling move.”
“I don’t want to fall.”
“We’re both going to fall if you suffocate me to death. Why were you crying?”
“If my tears were such a concern, why didn’t you ask me about them last night?”
“Because I was too busy trying not to cry over the pigs.”
He swung her around his torso as if they were swing dancing, then clutched her against his chest like she was a mischievous toddler.
“Well, this is just awkward,” Charlotte said, wiggling to break free.
He squeezed tighter. “Just tell me why you were crying, then I’ll let go.”
“I’ll only tell you why I was crying if you tell me why you’ve put up this wall between us.”
“I haven’t put up a wall between us.”
“Then I guess I wasn’t crying.” Charlotte shoved against his chest. He lost his grip on her, then fumbled to retrieve her again as if she were a football. This was ridiculous.
“Oh my goodness, you are seriously not going to let this go.” Or let her go. He had wrapped his arms around her from behind, clutching her to his chest again. “Fine. Being up there on that roof last night reminded me of a time my brother and his friend who lived out on a farm tied me up and left me in an empty horse stall. There. Happy?”
He held her for several breaths, not saying a word. Finally, he loosened his grip, his voice quiet but fierce. “Your brother and his friend did what?”
“It wasn’t like that. I mean, I let them tie me up. Up until then I could always get loose in a few minutes, like I was Houdini. That time, I don’t know, they used smaller ropes. I . . . had a lot more trouble.”
“How long did they leave you like that?”
Tears started to burn at the back of Charlotte’s eyes. “I don’t know. It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter. Eventually I got free.” After she’d wet her pants, but she wasn’t about to mention that.
“How old were you?”
“I think I’ve held up my end of the arrangement. It’s your turn to start talking.”
“How old were you?” he asked again.
She swiped her phone from the ground, then took off at a brisk pace to get away from him. She should have known better than to try and make him talk. He was too much like his brother. Good at asking questions. Even better at avoiding answers.
“How old, Charlotte?”
“Why does it matter?” she said over her shoulder. “Is there a certain age cutoff that would have made it acceptable?”
“No.” His footsteps trailed after her. “I just want to know how hard to beat up your brother the next time I see him.”
“Which is exactly why I’m not telling you. I think there’s been enough black eyes between you and Will throughout the years.”
“There’s going to be at least one more. Tell me how old.”
Charlotte spun around. “Not happening. You don’t get to hear me talk about my stuff if you refuse to talk about your stuff.”
“My stuff is gone.”
“Oh, knock it off. You have stuff. Everybody has stuff.”
