32. Skyler

If I could ring Mitch’s skinny little neck without being too obvious about it, I would. Reese is no better. It’s like she’s trying to get a rise out of me.

Mission accomplished.

I’m holding onto this beer so tight it might crack in my hand. I hate seeing another man’s hands on her. Even if it is my little brother who I’m pretty sure isn’t into her. But the longer they sit together, looking altogether too comfortable with each other, the more doubts start to crowd in. She’s beautiful. And funny. Feisty and smart. I don’t know why it took me so long to notice that. Maybe I shouldn’t bank on everybody being as clueless as I was.

I’m usually the guy telling everyone to quiet down so I can watch the game. But it’s almost impossible to pay attention to the screen. I can’t stop sneaking glances, plotting ways to get Reese away from my heartbreaker of a brother.

Cody taps my boot with his shoe. “You up for it?”

I drag my gaze up to his face. “Up for what?”

Cody tosses a football. “Pig in the middle. We need a pig.”

Mitch jostles past him. “Skyler’s perfect for the part.”

“Ha.”

I look around, a little dazed. “Is it half time already?”

Cody laughs. “Dude. Where is your head? Yeah. It’s halftime. If you play with us, I’ll even explain the rules of football. You see, there’s four quarters, total. After the first two quarters, we have something called halftime.”

“Alright, wise ass. Let’s go.”

I hoist myself to my feet, surreptitiously looking around for Reese. Her laugh rings out from the kitchen, one of those delighted cackles that probably means she’s conspiring with her sister-in-law.

I’m all too happy to herd my brother away from her.

It’s gorgeous outside. The sun has warmed the earth and the scent of sunbaked leaves is thick in the air. Cody takes up position on the far side of the yard and Mitch on the other side. It’s impossible to stand here in my best friend’s yard and not see the ghosts of our childhood flocking by. Mitch was usually stuck in the big maple to the west. Cody tagged along behind us like a lost puppy. We logged so many hours playing football on this same ground, I’m surprised our footprints aren’t permanently etched in the dirt.

Maybe they are.

But my nostalgia for simpler times is interrupted by my lovely little brother and cousin discussing their latest dates. The ball flies overhead, easily landing in Mitch’s arms. Asking for physical details of Cody’s last date, he snaps the ball and in a beautiful spiral; it sails overhead. I don’t like hearing them talk like that. With so little regard for the women they’re dating. If I was to really look within, I’d realize I’m not much better. Definitely wasn’t better when I was their age.

But I also never had Josh’s little sister sitting in my lap one minute, discussing another girl’s tits in the next. It pisses me off. Reese isn’t a placeholder. She’s not someone you can cuddle up to, only to cast aside.

Reese is special.

And if someone needs to knock some sense into my brother, I’ll gladly sign up for the job. I’ve been watching the ball fly back and forth, lulling Cody and Mitch into a false sense of security. They’re getting lazy. Forgetting where I’m standing. When Cody tosses the ball, I sprint full speed into Mitch. Body checking him so that he goes flying, I snatch the ball out of the air.

Mitch rolls to his feet. A cloud of anger hangs over his face, but when Cody hoots and laughs from afar, Mitch’s glare falters. He gives me a predatory smile. “Okay, old man. That’s how it’s going to be?”

I laugh. “Who you calling old man?”

“You.”

Mitch takes up residence in the middle. “You gonna be calling your mama in a minute.”

“That’s your mama, too.”

When Cody flings the ball at me, it flies wide, and Mitch is quick to capitalize on the error. We both race for the ball, colliding in a pile of leaves. He tips the ball out of my hand. It rotates end over end, and I manage to juggle it back into my arms. But then we’re both going down hard, with no time to guard against our fall.

Mitch mostly lands on top of me, and my head mostly lands on one of Erin’s garden gnomes. Laughing, Mitch snatches the ball out of my hands and skitters off a few feet, a shit-eating grin on his face.

When I’m slower to sit up, his smile slips. I put my hand on the stinging bump on the back of my head and it comes away covered in blood.

“Oh, shit, Skyler. Are you okay?”

He hustles back to me, offering his hand.

But I’m annoyed with the whole situation. Annoyed that I let the game get physical in the first place. Annoyed by the fact that I’m bleeding. I hate showing weakness in front of other people. “I’m good, dude.”

He shifts his hand to hook it under my arm, and I bat it away. “I said, I’m good!”