Page 35 of Really Truly Yours

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Page 35 of Really Truly Yours

An angry crazy person.

An arrogant, annoying, angry crazy person. “You’re going to have to, you know.”

“I will. Next time.”

“I hope there is a next time.”

Donny jerks his chin, receding after years of poor dental hygiene and consequential bone loss. “That boy of mine’s got a temper, but he’ll be back.”

He’s got a stubborn streak, too. As I dial the brand new air conditioner to low, thirty dollars burn a hole in the pocket of my sweater.

Grr.

Donny’s hands wring in his lap. “You think I seen the last of him?”

“I hope not, for everybody’s sake.”

“Everybody, eh? That include you, hon?” He casts me a speaking look.

“Me?” I squeal, my heart suddenly pounding.

No, not all that suddenly. It’s been drumming away since Gray—Grayson—and I got too close and almost too personal last night.

What was I thinking, touching him?

Probably that he’s tall and…solid. Funny and warm. Last night, I literally could have discovered what a real kiss tastes like.

“Sydnee?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Donny sits forward, elbows on the rests, hands joined in front of him. His eyes gleam. “You got a thing for my boy?”

“What? No!” I snatch the mug off his TV tray for a refill.

When I return from the kitchen, head high, I clear a wad of used tissues to make a spot for the water. Eew. Typical man. Can’t use the waste basket six inches away.

“I seen he was at your house last night. Everything go okay?”

I was hoping Donny didn’t notice. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it?”

Again, I find an enigmatic look, like he can’t decide which way to jump. Is the idea of something between me and his son—absurd, I know—favorable or no?

“He mind himself with you?”

I toss another tissue from the floor into the wicker basket, extending my hand off to the side until I can get to soap and water.

“What’d he do, hon? I’ll bust his tail.”

Wouldn’t that be a sight? “He didn’t do anything, Donny, promise.”

Well, not precisely. He was obnoxious was all. And maddeningly charming. “We talked.”

He ponders, then lets it go. “If he don’t come back, will you go again, Sydnee? See him for me?”

And drop the second bomb? I still feel the heat of the first blast. “I don’t know, Donny, I—”

A well-known rumble rattles the thin windows, followed by a honk. I glance at the cheap clock I placed above the television where Donny can easily see it. It’s so like my brother to be on the dot when it’s he who needs something.




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