Page 5 of Bronco
“It’s worth a try. Just think about it for now,” I tell her.
She fights a yawn, looking so exhausted that I’m mad at myself for not stomping over here weeks ago to demand to know what was happening. I’ve known for a while something was going on, but I kept thinking that she’d tell me if she needed help. But she’s so independent and strong that it probably never occurred to her to ask for my help.
“Try to get some sleep for a few hours,” I tell her, turning my attention back to the wall and leaky pipe. The water has stopped thanks to the shut off valve, and we’ve gotten most of the wet drywall out of the way. Now, I just have to saw through pipes, clamp them and get the water turned back on. Not a bad way to keep my hands busy when I’m around Lauren.
“But you’re still working,” she protests.
“Take your pillows and your blankets. Bunk on the couch,” I insist. “Problems like the retirement center rarely get solved at three in the morning.”
She finally surrenders to the yawn. She stands on shaky legs, pausing to put her weight on my shoulder as she does. I barely breathe, content just to feel her leaning on me. When she straightens, I feel a chill all over from the loss of her touching me.
She grabs her pillows and blankets, trudging out of the room without a word. Her couch creaks and groans as she settles. But by the time I’ve started working on the pipes, I can hear the soft sound of her snores.
“You should be here, buddy,” I say into the silence, talking aloud to Vale, like I sometimes do. She’s convinced he’s gone. But I swear there are moments when I feel his presence so strongly, as if he were standing right beside me. That’s when I tend to talk to him.
Maybe it’s his presence. Maybe it’s his ghost. I don’t know. All I know is I’d trade places with him in a heartbeat if it meant bringing a smile back to Lauren’s sweet face.
She’s been through so much. She’s already lost a lot of people. It’s unfair that her brother was taken from her when I’m still here. No one would miss me if I’d been the one on the final mission.
By the time her phone rings a few hours later, signaling that it’s time for her to wake up and get ready for work, I’ve already finished in her bedroom. I got a gator bite to hold the piece until I can come back and complete it later. I’ll get to that today, after I do some chores at the farm.
Lauren smashes her phone, silencing the alarm with a soft groan. She sits up slowly and drops the now quiet device back on the antique coffee table with a huff.
Her pillow has creased her cheek, and her hair is wild. Her eyes have that soft, glassy look of someone who’s still half asleep. When she gazes at me, I can tell her normal defense is lowered.
I could swear in this moment she almost feels for me what I feel for her. But then she blinks, and the look is gone. I’m back to being her brother’s annoying friend. The realization is like ice water down my back, cold and cruel but a much-needed refresher.
“You’re still here,” she croaks out, voice thick from sleep.
“Just finished patching it together. The water is back on for now.” The task wasn’t hard, but it did take me a lot longer than I thought it would. It’s going to be a hell of a repair job. If I weren’t so possessive over Lauren, I’d bring someone along for an extra set of hands. But I can’t stand the idea of another man in her home. I’m the only one who should be here.
She scrambles to her feet. “Cool, then I can grab a shower before I go into work.”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” I take her elbow before she can walk out of the living room. I tug her toward the tiny kitchenette with the round table and the two little chairs that look barely big enough for a fairy.
I’ve already prepared a breakfast spread for her, and I point to it. “First, you’re going to have some breakfast.”
“You cooked for me?” She looks up at me, her gaze doing that thing where her eyes go soft again. Doesn’t mean anything. Doesn’t mean a fucking thing. She’s just stressed and grateful someone took the time to care.
“I’ve been told my cooking is passable,” I answer, not wanting to make it into a big deal. A man can cook a huge breakfast spread for his friend’s little sister. It doesn’t have to mean anything at all.
I take a seat, carefully testing it under my weight. When I’m content the tiny thing will hold me, I relax and point to the one across from me.
She takes a seat but doesn’t make a move. I figure she must not be a morning person, so I load up her plate with cheesy scrambled eggs, a chocolate chip muffin, and a few pieces of bacon. I push a glass of orange juice and another one of ice water to her side.
She twists her hands together. “Look, about what I told you yesterday. I don’t want you to worry about me. I’m going to be just fine.” She gives me a sunny smile, or at least she tries to, but she’s not fooling either of us. The weight of yesterday is still sitting on her shoulders.
“Eat,” I tell her.
She nibbles at the food, pushing it around more than actually consuming it, though she does take a bite of the chocolate chip muffin, letting out a loud moan when she tastes it. “This is amazing.”
Her satisfaction fills me with pride, and I wish she’d let me satisfy her in other areas, too. Like the bedroom.
I force my gaze down to my plate, so she can’t see the longing on my face. She doesn’t need that right now. She needs a friend, which I can be. A horny friend, but still, a friend. “The secret is to use more egg whites than the recipe calls for. Makes them extra fluffy.”
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t have any of these ingredients in my kitchen,” she says, gesturing at the food.
I had to make a run to the store, though I don’t tell her that. She had a few saltine packets and a couple of cheese sticks here. That’s it. It hurts my heart to think that she’s probably been doing without. If the community center is in trouble, it wouldn’t surprise me if she were working without pay to help every penny go as far as it can. That’s the kind of heart she has.
