Page 64 of The Wild Card
“Aw, look at you admitting it,” I say, laughing when he squeezes me tighter.
I am a hugger. It’s my kryptonite. If anyone wants something from me, whether it be help with moving, a ride somewhere, or an alibi, I’d do it for a hug. Even a sweaty one.
This is the kind of hug I rarely get from Chase anymore. Mostly because I rarelyseehim. Which might change now that I’ll be closer. The idea makes me excited.
“I love you, Molo,” Chase says, resurrecting his old nickname for me. “And I’m sorry for being so?—”
“Obnoxious? Irrational? Overbearing?”
“Unreasonable?” Harper offers. “Incorrigible?”
Chase snorts. “How aboutoverly invested in your welfare.”
“I thinkunreasonably invested in my personal businessworks better.”
“Sure, okay,” he says. “In any case, I’m glad you’re moving closer. I just … don’t think this is the way I expected you to go about it.”
“Yeah, well—that makes two of us.”
“How did Dad take the news of you moving?” Chase asks, and I stiffen.
“Uh, not great. He prefers me close and doing whatever he says,” I keep my tone light, not wanting Chase to press me for more.
“I want in on this hug,” Harper says, and steps up behind me to sandwich me between them.
Hugs from Harper are rare. I know she doesn’t always love them—or touch in general—so it feels like a special gift just for me. I spend almost a full minute just enjoying the warm security of both of them surrounding me.
Even with the sweat, it’s totally worth it.
Then, I notice some movement and stiffen. “Harper—are you grabbing my brother’s butt right now in the middle of this group hug?” I ask, wiggling out from between them.
Harper jumps back. “What? No!”
But her flushed cheeks and Chase’s wide grin tell a different story. Especially when he tugs Harper into his chest and nuzzles the side of her neck. “We’re married,” he says. “Married people kiss. Andother things.”
“Ew! You can’t talk aboutother thingsin front of your sister!”
Harper turns with a grin and holds out a set of keys. “Speaking of talking about things, we decided to let you borrow my car.”
I felt bad that they were basically going to have to turn around and drive me back to Sheet Cake again this afternoon. But this is way too much.
“I can’t borrow your car.” But even as I protest, I take the keys when Harper rolls her eyes and shakes them at me.
“At least until you have a chance to go back home and drive yours back down,” Chase says.
That isn’t happening. I’d rather ride a bike or walk everywhere than go back to Kansas for anything at all.
My father wouldn’t lock me in the house or anything—he wouldn’t need to. He’s not Rapunzel’s mother, literally locking me in a tower. The control he exercises over me is way more subtle than that, and he’s successful because I’m not good at standing up to him.
“Are you sure? I feel bad.”
“It’s fine,” Harper says. “Chase and I don’t really need two.”
I try to shove down the feelings of guilt over needing so much help when I’m trying to stand on my own. Since Tank will be in Austin for a while, he offered to let me stay in the loft where I stayed with Collin the other night. Which is really nice of Tank—even if it will remind me of Collin. Now Harper is letting me borrow her car.
I’m grateful for people’s generosity and kindness. Even if I wish the start of adulting required less help. Right now, it feels a little bit like the process requires a whole team of people basically yanking me up by my armpits and then carrying me.
Unlike my father, though, these offers don’t come with tight strings.
