Page 53 of Sunday Morning
After I closed the stand, I was itching to play Isaac’s guitar again. Since he was still nowhere in sight, I figured chances were slim that he would look for it before I returned it. As I tiptoed up the stairs, I listened carefully for signs of anyone. I didn’t need a repeat.
Securing the guitar in my arms, I hugged it with more passion than I’d hugged myassholeboyfriend. Then I skittered out of the house to my car. I peeled around the circle drive to make my escape but slammed on the brakes when Isaac stepped in front of my car.
My heart lurched into my throat as he eyed me for a few seconds before stepping to the side and opening the passenger’s door.
“What are you doing? I nearly ran you over!”
“You are a thief.” He pulled the guitar case from my back seat. “A delinquent, fucking criminal.”
Isaac slammed the door and marched toward the house. I should have stepped on the gas and gotten my butt out of there, but I wanted—needed—to borrow the guitar again. I had songs to write. So I set the emergency brake, killed the engine, and chased after him. Really, I was only chasing the guitar.
“You know darn well you’re not even going to use it tonight. You can’t say that you covet me and then hog your guitar.” I caught up to him just as he stepped inside the screened-in porch.
When I tried to grab the guitar case, Isaac glanced back at me with a wrinkled nose as if he didn’t expect my level of determination. “Let. Go.” He jerked it out of my grip. “You’re way out of your league, little girl.” He continued into the house and up the stairs.
“I’m not a little girl. I’m a woman. And I’m going to be something someday, and I’m giving you the chance to be part of it. You can tell all your friends that it was your guitar that I used to write my best songs.”
Isaac deposited the guitar into his closet and shut the door, standing guard in front of it with his arms crossed over his chest.
I should have given up and walked away. The bear didn’t need to be poked anymore, but I had a proverbial stick in my hand, and I couldn’t resist.
“But like … I know that won’t happen because you don’t have any friends.”
Isaac’s scowl morphed into something worse: a smile. His vengeful smirk was so confident that I nearly evaporated like a drip of water hitting a hot pan.
“Sunday Morning,you’remy friend.”
I shook my head a half dozen times. “I’m notyouranything if you don’t let me borrow your guitar.”
“Well,” Isaac pursed his lips, “you’re my future sister-in-law. Right?”
Satan ruined everything good, which wasn’t breaking news. After all, my dad had been preaching about sin and the devil since before I was born. Still, seeing evil in the flesh confirmed all the warnings were valid. Before Isaac came home, I spent most of my free time dreaming of Matt and music. One always led to the other. Matt and I wanted to play under bright lights with throngs of adoring fans—his baseball, mine music.
I blamed Isaac for ruining everything I saw in Matt.
“You’re an awful brother.”
His dark eyes widened. “What did I do? I love Matty.”
“If you loved him, you wouldn’t call him Matty. You wouldn’t treat his good behavior like a flaw. You wouldn’t get his girlfriend drunk and say inappropriate things to her. You wouldn’t ruin his sex life. You wouldn’t write your name on my boob. And you wouldn’t smoke because it’s gross.” I clenched my jaw.
Evil danced in his eyes. “Let’s back up. How did I ruin his sex life? I bought condoms.” Isaac straightened his posture, as if he really needed to exude any more confidence. “And I didn’t askhim to pay me back.”
“That’s”—I wrinkled my nose and shook my head—“not what I meant.”
“Was the sex bad?” He narrowed his eyes, but it didn’t erase the amusement on his face.
“I’m going home.” I spun in the opposite direction. “Keep your stupid guitar, you selfish jerk.” I jogged down the stairs.
“I’ll talk to him,” Isaac said, moseying down the stairs, knowing that he didn’t have to catch me to make me stop. He just needed to say the right thing.
I halted at the front door and backtracked to the stairs, reaching the bottom at the same time as Isaac. “Don’tsay a word to him.”
“So itwasbad. What happened?” He rubbed his chin.
Despite not being raised to hate anyone or anything, I harbored intense hatred towards Isaac and everything about him.
Because he liked to be an instigator.