Page 25 of Tell Me When It's Over

Not wanting to think about it, I give him a reassuring smile. “It won’t be that bad, Ky.”

He gives me a disbelieving look that I have to brush off with a smile. One of us has to be optimistic, and I can see it isn’t going to be him.

“Are we friends?” I ask, trying to hide the doubt in my tone. Apparently, I don’t do it well because his eyes cut to mine in narrow slits.

“Why would you ask that?”

My lips rub together. “You didn’t want Garrick to know we were friends back there.”

When his lips part, I expect something, anything, but he closes them instead. He tries again, this time, his Adam’s apple bobbing before hefting a long sigh. “We’re more than that, Lenny. So much more.”

I blink. “We are?”

Looking away for a moment, his gaze scrapes across the floor before he nods once. “We never stopped being family.”

I blink.

Then again.

A third time.

“Oh.”

He looks up, his eyes distant, his jaw ticking, and I have no idea what he’s thinking. He doesn’t sound like he believes it himself, and that crushes me inside.

Because if we aren’t friends or family, then what are we?

“Ouch!” My head is yanked back a little too hard as Kyler fumbles with the color

brush. He curses and loosens his grip, and I don’t have to look over my shoulder to guess he’s making a face over the box dye fumes.

“Shit. Sorry.” He dips it in the mixture I helped him prepare, coating the bristles before moving back to the strands of hair currently in his palm. “Remind me why I’m doing this again,” he grumbles for the third time.

I didn’t entertain him with serious answers before, just the basic “because you love me” and “because you have nothing better to do” which, at least for the latter, is a total lie. I’m sure he’d rather be anywhere but crammed in my bathroom wearing plastic gloves while helping me touch up my hair and simultaneously getting high off the chemicals. “Because Mia backed out,” I say instead.

Technically, Mia’s busy getting ready for her “event” that is “not a party” even though it totally is. I just hope it’s a small one because I’ve seen the crowds she brings. It’s the only reason I spent the money on the hair dye, and why I’m forcing Ky to help me look halfway presentable. Whoever is going to be at her house tonight will undoubtedly look put together. It’s bad enough the best outfit I have is an old dress of Mom’s that isn’t too short or tight, and that’s only because I don’t have the curves or boobs to fill them out like she did.

“I don’t see why you even do this,” he tells me. He probably only says that because it means he’ll get stuck helping me the next time I need to recolor. I know he’ll do it though. He rarely tells me no if I ask him for something, mostly because I rarely ever do.

Since moving in together, I’ve done everything I can to avoid asking for his help. Unfortunately, that didn’t go over well when it involved Garrick driving me home instead of calling him, so I’ve been cautious. Still, I don’t like bothering him more than I need to. Sometimes, he’ll cook us dinner, but more times than not I’ll make myself something to eat so he doesn’t have to. When he goes out to meet with Gordy or other people he’s been working with to sell some music to, he’ll tell me to call him if I run into any problems. Do I? No. Does he expect me to? Probably not.

“It makes me feel good.” I want to say ‘pretty’ instead, but I know the second I do he’ll tell me I don’t need to put chemicals on my hair to achieve that. It goes back to when Mom used to tell me to put makeup on before we all went out together. Ky bit her head off saying I was too young for makeup and didn’t need anything “caked on my face” like her. Harry scolded him, Mia sighed, and Mom just rolled her eyes and gave him the basic “I’m her mother” retort. To which Kyler would always say “could have fooled me.”

This time, though, the man who agreed to the hair-care torture doesn’t give me any crap over my answer. There’s no Pinterest-worthy advice or Full House moment telling me I could feel good without all this. I’m grateful.

“So, about Mia’s thing,” he starts, carefully moving onto the last section of hair. This time, he doesn’t tug. “We won’t stay long. God knows what it’ll be like when we get there.”

He’s obviously thinking the same thing I am, which isn’t unusual. We’re usually on the same track when it comes to everything. Both homebodies. Both hate being out. Sometimes, I wonder why Kyler ever agreed to be part of Single Division in the first place, much less going solo when they split ways. He was always in the spotlight with some story attached to his name. I remember reading about a fight he got into where he punched a guy that was following him and broke his camera…and his nose. That made national news. Ky hated the attention, which only earned him more.

“Promise?” I ask even though I know he isn’t just saying that to appease my worries. It’s no different than the dinner with Harry tonight. He tells me he’ll get us out as soon as he can because neither of us wants to be around him longer than necessary. Unlike with his dad, he loves seeing Mia and his mom, and gets along well with Mia’s husband Dylan too—he even likes the guy. They have a lot to talk about considering they both grew up in similar circumstances. Though I never listened to the band Dylan was in, I know they were good. Popular, even. Just not as popular as Single Division or Violet Wonders. Even though Kyler prefers staying out of big crowds, I know he’d stay as long as Mia wanted because they’re family.

I used to know what that kind of dedication felt like.

Suddenly, my chest gets tight and a piercing throb stabs at my heart. I don’t want to feel jealous. It feels…dirty. Ridiculous. I’m not part of the Bishop circle the way I used to be, and it’s hard to accept that even if Mia and Kyler treat me like nothing has changed. Because it has. Everything has changed, and I have to fight the stinging in my eyes when the realization hits me.

A nudge snaps me out of my isolated pity party, table for one. “What are you thinking about?”

Of course he would notice. “Nothing.” The lie slips out easily but tastes sour in my mouth.

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