Page 65 of The Older Brother
A strained silence settles between us, but it’s not long before my father feels it.
“So, it’s over for good between you and Caleb, huh?” My dad’s gaze drifts toward Rowan, at least I think it does. Maybe I’m reading too much into things.
“Oh, that’s definitely done. He and I are in different places. And I’m so fine with that.” Even if Rowan weren’t in the picture, I think I’d feel relief not being tied to Caleb anymore.
“It’s good you know who you are. And things with Rowan and you aren’t weird? What with the breakup, I mean.”
My insides spike with adrenaline, but I fight to maintain a calm exterior, blinking slowly before bringing my gaze back up to meet his. I shake my head and twist my lips, uttering, “Nah. We’re fine.”
His eyes narrow a hint, his brow lowering the way it does when he’s putting me through the famous Jason Kelly litmus test. I might need to sell this harder.
Scrunching up my nose, I glance in Rowan’s direction, then back to my dad. “I don’t think Rowan likes his brother very much, so in a way, he’s on my side.”
My dad chews at the inside of his mouth, nodding after a torturously long second.
“Uh huh.” His mouth curves the tiniest hint, but I hold my ground, mentally yelling at my facial muscles to stay locked and steady. “Well, that’s good then, I guess. You two seem like you’ve become . . . friends.”
Fuck.
I nod my way through to the end.
“We have.”
If I keep this up the entire time the boys are checking out my dad’s truck, I’m going to end up running back to the bathroom in stomach distress. Rather than torturing myself, I shift the topic to the one thing I know my father will get lost in for as long as I need him to—music. More pointedly,hismusic.
After twenty minutes of explaining the second leg of his band’s tour schedule to me, my dad pulls out his phone to start playing me a few of their recent live recordings. I’ve heard most of them from the live streams they post on social media, but Ipretend like they’re brand new to me anyway. I think my dad gets just as much joy showing off for me as I always have for him.
Sometimes I wish I had spent my high school years taking classes online and living on the road with my dad. He always said I’d get bored, but I don’t know. I picture myself existing in the stories he tells, and I always see a place for me. I know the reality isn’t very practical, but I’m so tired of reality. So tired of rules. Plans. Expectations.
An hour in the garage with him flies by, and I’m disappointed when the slam of his truck hood breaks up our good time.
When my dad gets to his feet, I scramble to mine, suddenly overcome with panic that he’s leaving. I’m fully aware that he’s here for two more days, and that I’m seeing him again on Saturday, but that suddenly doesn’t feel like enough. I snuggle in at his side, and he loops his arm around my shoulders, hugging me as we stroll toward his idling truck. When he kisses the top of my head, I’m instantly transported to years ago, when I was daddy’s little girl.
“Well? What’s the verdict?” My dad bends an ear closer to the hood then chuckles.
“Yeah, these things are tanks. They sound the same even when they’re not running like a river of honey,” Rowan says. It’s a strange analogy, and my dad and I both snort laugh in sync.
“Does that mean I’m not driving a river of honey?” my dad asks, shaking his head.
“No, no. I’d say your honey is just right. The river is full,” Rowan says, sticking with this comparison.Way to commit.
“Well, that’s good. Now tell me, what do I owe ya?” My father pulls his wallet from the back pocket of his deep gray jeans, but Rowan waves the offer off. Miguel doesn’t protest either.
“Oh, come on. You can’t keep giving friends and family discounts away to everyone. I’m doing pretty good now. I insist.”My dad holds out a gold credit card, but Rowan rests his hand over my dad’s, pushing it down as he shakes his head.
“Your money’s no good here,” Miguel adds.
My dad’s gaze bobs between the two, his tongue held at the edge of his teeth. He finally leans his head to the side and utters, “Alright.” He slips the card back into his wallet and shakes Miguel’s hand before stepping toward Rowan.
“I meant what I said. You’re a good man for that. I’m proud of you, what you’ve got going here.” My dad’s eyes lock on Rowan’s for a beat before he brings him in for a short hug. Rowan’s hands struggle with where to rest, his fingers barely grazing my father’s back as he embraces him. I don’t think Rowan’s father has ever hugged anyone, and that makes me sad.
“Thank you, Sir.” Rowan’s gaze flits from my father’s face the second after they break apart, and he immediately begins cleaning around the shop while I hug my dad once more and remind him to save me the best seat in the house for Saturday night.
“Two of them,” I add as he gets into his truck. I glance over my shoulder, where Rowan is nervously buzzing around the space. My dad follows my gaze and chuckles, but his laugh is short, and his expression instantly morphs into one of caution, his mouth tight and nostrils flared.
“Just don’t lose yourself, Saylor. Okay?” He studies my face for a moment as I nod slowly, promising him I won’t. I hang in the spot I’m in as he reverses slowly, rolling up his window by hand, then holding up an open palm as a silent goodbye.
Miguel’s already buried himself behind the counter again, slipping the laptop back out from the safe while Rowan runs a broom over the slick garage floor. The place is spotless, so unless he has some strange superpower that lets him see invisible dirt and grime, I’d say this is classic avoidance. I know we haven’t defined what we are, and I know it’s only been weeks, butI believe our connection is something more than two young people passing time. I want to believe that because the thought of not having Rowan in my life this way—with the closeness we’ve built—hurts. I don’t want to go back to our roles from before, childhood friends, the little sister with a crush on her babysitter. I like being a woman in his eyes.
