My Brother’s Best Friend
Chapter One
Marla
I was six-years-old the first time I fell in love with Tank Gunderson. But, who could blame me? Everyone loved Tank. I just loved him more.
The first day of first grade and I’m being teased and bullied by two third graders. I can still feel the warm tears rolling down my cheek. My young life in ruins. And out of nowhere, Tank flies through the air and tackles the two of them. Taking them out like a true superhero.
What girl wouldn’t fall in love?
I was twelve the next time I fell in love with Tank.
You’ve got to understand. Tank had always been a part of my life. One of the Lakeland boys. My older brother Jason’s best friends. The four of them had grown up together. Jason, Tank, Nick, and Luke. They had always been there.
And our house, being the magnet house in the neighborhood. Seemed to draw them like bugs to a zapper.
So, I was confused about a lot of things. Especially when I was twelve. Tank was Tank. Kind, funny, and as solid as a rock. I couldn’t imagine a life without Tank in it.
Then something happened with his father. I didn’t know what. My parents would stop whispering whenever I came into the room. But I could tell it was serious. Jason didn’t even know what happened. But one day, Tank’s father was gone.
I don’t mean divorced type gone. Where Tank got to see him on the weekends. I mean gone, as in no one was allowed to talk about him type gone.
Then, it looked like Tank, and his mom were going to leave, and for the first time in a long time, I realized the truth. My world wouldn’t be right unless Tank was a part of it.
I can still remember the ache in my heart when the U-Haul pulled up outside their house. I stood on our porch and watched. Unable to take my eyes away as my heart melted into a glob of sadness.
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t get my mind wrapped around the idea that Tank was leaving. Then I saw him walk out of his house and stare at the truck. His shoulders were slumped, and he kept looking at the ground like he was having trouble coming to grips with what was going on.
I don’t know why. I don’t know how. But my feet took me down the street to his house. I didn’t think about it as I stepped up next to him as we watched the men load the truck. I just reached out and took his hand. It was all I could think to do.
He didn’t look at me, but his hand held mine in a firm grasp as we just stood there.
Then, out of nowhere, he said, “He stole. My dad took a bunch of money from where he works.”
I gasped. No one had said.
Tank’s shoulders began to shake a little as he continued, “He had a girlfriend in Seattle, paying for her apartment, and stuff. I can’t believe it. He’s going to prison.”
The pain in his voice would have cut through steel.
I knew that Tank’s father had always been tough on him. A big, boisterous man who always thought he was right. And his son never seemed to be enough.
Nothing physical. At least nothing we could see. But verbal stuff. It would tear Tank apart. He worshiped his father. He tried to be perfect. But it never seemed to be enough.
Now, to learn the great man was a thief. It must have torn Tank apart. I never knew anyone more honorable than Tank. To think his own father was a thief must have ripped his soul.
I just stood there and held his hand. What more could I do? I wanted to hug him. I wanted to make his pain go away. But, instead. I just stood there with him. Silently letting him know that things would be all right.
The day that truck pulled away from their house had to be the worst day of my life. I can still remember the hollow, sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
For a week, it felt like a heavy fog had drifted in to cover all of Lakeland Estates.
Then, without anybody saying anything. Tank and his mom came back. Almost like they were sneaking back into their own house. I learned later that his uncle had bought their house and let them live there.
I didn’t care as long as it meant Tank got to stay.
My heart soared when I saw him jump down from the truck. Then I looked up and saw the pain hidden behind his eyes. This really didn’t fix his problems, I realized. Nothing would ever make that sense of betrayal go away. Nothing could.
Later that night, I thought about Tank and what he meant to me. It wouldn’t have been the same if it had been Luke or Nick. No. This was Tank.
He was always there. When mom took everyone to the Drive-in, he made Jason share his popcorn with me. When I stood on the sidelines and watched them play basketball in our driveway. He would pass me the ball occasionally and let me shoot.
I know, it wasn’t much. But at the time, it seemed like everything. You’ve got to understand. My brother and his friends ruled our neighborhood. They had the best adventures. They got to do everything first.
Me, I was the sidekick that got in the way. The annoying pest that Jason was forced to take along or mom wouldn’t let him go.
But Tank never treated me that way. Nick and Luke would tease me, gently. Like a little sister. But if they got out of hand Tank would stick up for me. Not Jason. My brother was oblivious. But not Tank.
I was almost sixteen the third time I fell in love with Tank Gunderson. And this was a different kind of falling. A head over heels hurt that I was pretty sure was never going to go away.
That unrequited love that burns your soul and leaves you in ashes kind of hurt.
My mom and I and my two little brothers had just finished shopping for school clothes when she decided to surprise my father at his work site.
She drove through McDonald's and picked up a dozen cheeseburgers. Both Tank and Jason were working for my dad that summer. Building houses on the other side of town.
I can still remember the way my heart had raced when Mom told me we were going to drop in on them. It wasn’t Jason, or even my dad I was excited to see, it was Tank.
And see him I did.
He was helping Jason hang rafters. My heart slid to a sudden stop when I spotted him. He was dressed in work boots, cutoff jeans, and no shirt with a tool belt hung low on his hips.
I fell like a ton of bricks.
Long, lean, and tan. With a hammer in his hand and a smirk on his face.
The boy was pure male. Everything about him pulled at me. Those wide shoulders. The way he looked down from the top of the house and smiled at us. As if we were important and special. The way he moved, nimbly stepping from rafter to rafter like he was walking across a football field and not fifteen feet in the air.
For a guy his size, he moved like a big cat. Sure of himself.
It was enough to turn my heart into pure mush.
But then the reality of the situation hit me as if someone had punched me in the gut.
This was Tank. My brother’s best friend. I would always be in the friend zone. Worse, almost in the little sister zone. It was enough to tear a girl’s heart into little pieces.
There was the greatest guy in the world. Sweet, kind, hot beyond belief, and as far out of bounds as a guy could get. Life just wasn’t fair.
“Marla,” my mother yelled from downstairs pulling me out of my daydreams. “Dinner is about ready. Set the table.”
Sighing heavily, I rolled off my bed and headed downstairs. That was my lot in life. Chores, and my head lost in the clouds, thinking about a boy who would never really know I existed.