Page 67 of Tell Me When It's Over

I definitely interrupted something. “Too much information, Mia. Way too much. And the answer is no. Wait—”

“Don’t be such a prude.”

“I’m not.” Who wants to hear about their sibling’s sex lives? I sure as fuck don’t. “What was that thing about being jealous?”

She snorts. “You picked up on that, huh. Come on, Kyler. There’s a reason you got so worked up about her dating, and it’s more than you being overprotective.”

“That’s not—”

“You care about her.”

“Of course I care about her!”

“As more than a brother.”

Silence.

“Hear me out, Ky—”

“No. What the hell, Mia?”

Her sigh is heavy. “Are you really going to pretend you don’t have any kind of feelings for her? You got upset over one date. One. She never even told you there’d be another. Only that there may be in the future. And you went off.”

“I know,” I grind out, “I was there.”

“So, tell me why that is. Because it’s not as simple as you looking out for her. It’s not because Chase is Garrick’s little brother. You said so yourself that he seems like a decent person. You can tell me anything. I won’t judge you for what you’re thinking or feeling.”

Feeling. Christ. What I’m feeling is beyond me. The thoughts in my head that have been swirling around since I’ve watched Leighton walk around the house, cooking, cleaning, watching fucking television, have been confusing. Seeing her in those microscopic shorts that might as well have been underwear was a breaking point. She’s beautiful. Always has been, but it’s different now. She’s quick to fight back because she’s learned there’s no other way to be heard, but she’s still her—still shy at times and timid about certain things, and I love that she hasn’t changed that much.

Books and $0.98 macaroni and cheese still excite her more than fancy dinners and clothes. She doesn’t want to constantly talk about me and my music and doesn’t mind falling into silence when it’s just us.

What am I thinking? I shake my head, palming my face before gripping my neck, which is stiff from this turn of conversation. I never thought there was a bad age to be until Leighton turned eighteen. That’s what I’m thinking. Because eighteen means a lot of different things. It means adulthood. Independence. It means she’s legal.

But I refuse to tell my sister any of those things, no matter what she already suspects. What will she think of me if I admit that I’m pissed the fuck off that Lenny is out with Chase? That they’re probably holding hands and laughing over some inside joke between them? I don’t want to know, don’t want to wonder what kind of person that makes me.

“Your silence says a lot more than your words do, you know?” My sister’s words make my shoulders stiffen more. “Listen, I love you and I love Lenny. I want you both to be happy.”

“Well, she’s happy with Chase, and I’m perfectly content with where my life is at now.”

“Really, because I call bullshit.”

“Mia, drop it.”

“Why won’t you admit it?”

“There’s nothing to admit.”

For a moment, she’s silent. “Fine. Then you need to get laid, baby bro. When is the last time you went out?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

Her snort makes her sound like a pig doing a line, but I know telling her that would get me castrated over the phone. Pregnancy hormones are no joke. “You’re sexually frustrated and taking it out on poor Lenny. Maybe if you got some—” I groan. “—then you’d be fine if Leighton—”

“No,” I rasp. I want to block my ears from this convers

ation completely. “Nope. We are not talking about her in that way. I will hang up right now if you continue that sentence.”

She’s laughing so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if she pisses herself, and I hope she does. All over her white fucking carpets. “Yeah, you don’t care about her at all. You need to open your eyes, Kyler.”

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