Chapter 21

Adelaide

“Hey,” Mandy yells from the passenger seat. “No texting and driving. You want to wreck?”

“Like yelling while she’s behind the wheel is any safer,” Renee mumbles from the backseat.

“Give it,” Mandy says, holding her hand out. I place my cell into her upturned palm. “It says ‘Hey, you wanna get together later?’”

I roll my lips between my teeth to keep from smiling.

“Is that Marcus?” Renee chimes in.

“Axton,” Mandy corrects.

“The hell does he want? Like sitting out on the front porch for an hour yesterday wasn’t creepy enough.”

“What do you want me to text back?” Mandy asks, ignoring the cynic in the back.

“Tell him I have a ton of laundry to get done before school starts on Tuesday.”

I keep my eyes on the road as she types out the message, grateful Mandy is the one with my phone and not Renee. If my oldest sister had it, there’s no telling what she’d be typing out.

Mandy chuckles after his return text dings.

“Unbelievable,” Renee mutters, looking over her shoulder.

“What did he say?”

“He said, ‘Cool. I have laundry that needs to be done also.’”

“He can’t be serious,” Renee hisses. “He expects you to do his laundry?”

“What do you want me to tell him?” Mandy looks from my phone back up to me.

“Nothing,” I tell her.

“Yeah, ghost his ass,” Renee adds.

“What is going on with you?” I ask Renee, looking at her through the rearview mirror.

“Nothing,” she mutters, sitting back in the seat. Turning her head to look out the window, she ignores my gaze.

“Spill it, sis.” Mandy joins my team for the first time in as long as I can remember.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s something,” I push. “You’ve been bristly since I got back from Belize.”

“Elijah broke up with me,” she confides after a long moment of silence.

“Because you kept pressuring him to have sex with you?” I’m glad Mandy is able to put both of our thoughts into actual words. There’s no way I could’ve come out and asked my sister that.

Renee huffs, but doesn’t answer right away. “More like we had sex and he regretted it, so he broke up with me.”

My eyes widen, but I manage to keep them on the road.

“Oh, Renee. You didn’t.” Disappointment marks Mandy’s voice.

“You sound just like him!” she hisses. “I made him one drink. He made the choice to keep drinking.”

“Renee! You got him drunk and had sex with him?” I blurt out, unable to hold it in any longer.

“That’s so fucked up,” Mandy whispers loud enough for Renee to hear.

“Yeah, thanks for the support.”

I shake my head, but it’s Mandy who speaks first. “Support? You’re not getting that from me. You know he likes you. You also knew he didn’t want to have sex. If this were Addi, you would go to the guy’s house and burn it down.”

I glance back to the rearview mirror, taking in Renee’s frown. “Yeah…well, it’s done. There’s nothing I can do about it now.”

“You haven’t called him?” I hate the tear that forms at the corner of her eye.

“She just needs to leave him the hell alone,” Mandy says.

I smack her arm with the back of my hand and give my head a small shake. Now is not the time. That she regrets what she did is evident in her pain.

“He’s sent every one of my calls to voicemail, hasn’t responded to my texts, and doesn’t answer the door when I knock. The only boy who ever loved me for me, and I destroyed what we could’ve had.”

The car falls silent at her admission. Most people would probably try to console their sister in this situation, tell her it will all be okay, but saying that when there’s a huge possibility it won’t doesn’t feel right.

We spend the remainder of the trip home lost to our own thoughts, only stopping to grab laundry detergent and dryer sheets.

“It’s going to take me forever to get all my clothes washed,” I lament as I turn onto our street. “I haven’t even unpacked from Belize yet. I probably brought home some creature that’s going to attack me when I open my suitcases.”

“I think you have other things, or shall I say one person in particular, to worry about attacking you first,” Renee says. Looking up, I follow her gaze out the window.

“What’s he doing here?” I ask out loud, though the question is more rhetorical.

“From that grin on his face, I’d say he’s here to drop his laundry off,” Renee observes.

“Stop,” Mandy warns. “Just because you’re in a shit mood doesn’t mean you need to drag everyone else down with you.”

I park the car and get out, grabbing my purchases before heading toward Axton.

“Hey,” he greets, holding up two rolls of quarters. “Figured we could go to the laundry mat together.”

“How domestic,” Renee mutters as she walks past and unlocks the door.

“Good to see you, Renee,” Axton says with a tight smile. “And you, too, Mandy.”

“Hey, Axton,” Mandy says before following our agitated sister into the house.

“Was church really that bad?” he asks as he turns back to me.

“No. There’s some sister stuff going on right now. No big deal.”

“So, you wanna head out and wash clothes?”

“I’m not washing your laundry,” I verify.

“Okay,” he says slowly, drawing out the word. “I didn’t expect you to. I don’t have detergent, though. I got over here as fast as I could and didn’t think to stop and grab some. How about I provide the quarters and you share your detergent?” He beams at me, and I want to kiss his smile.

I turn away quickly, about to turn him down, when I hear a door slam inside. “I think getting out of here is a great idea. You want to come inside while I get everything together?”

Mandy’s raised voice filters outside and his eyes dart from his truck to the front door. “I think I’ll wait in the truck.”

I laugh and hand him the bag with detergent and dryer sheets in it. “I’ll be quick.”

Racing up the front steps into the house, I find Mandy sitting on the couch, red faced and annoyed, and Renee’s bedroom door closed.

“Care to explain?”

“Nope,” Mandy responds. “Did you tell him you weren’t doing his laundry?”

“He came to see if I wanted to do laundry with him. He brought several rolls of quarters.”

She smiles at me. “So, I take it you’re going to the laundry mat?”

I nod. “I don’t really feel like staying here when she’s this cranky.”

“I’ll handle her. You go have fun.”

“It’s laundry,” I say, backing down the hallway.

“Yeah, but you get to find out whether he wears boxers or briefs.”

I’m still chuckling as I gather all my clothes into baskets, humming one of the hymns we sang at church this morning.

“Think we can record a duet?” I gasp, hand raising to my throat as Axton steps inside my room.

“I thought you were waiting in the truck,” I say as my pulse begins to calm.

“I realized how rude it would be to sit in the truck and have you lug all your laundry out. I’m here to be your man servant.” His bright white smile draws my eyes to his mouth, just as it did numerous times at the bar last night.

“I don’t need a servant, but I won’t turn down the help.”

I look back down at my clothes, making sure I have everything I need. When I turn to face him, I catch his throat work on a long swallow as he stares at the clothes stuffed in the basket.

“I bet you look great in lace.” His voice is deeper, husky even. “But I really liked the white cotton panties you had on the day we met.”

My cheeks flush, the heat of my embarrassment washing over my skin.

“Quit staring at my panties, you perv.” I swat at his chest until he takes a step back, then grab a t-shirt to cover the entire top of the basket.

True to what he promised, he doesn’t push the subject. He doesn’t suggest we move the clothes and climb into my bed. He doesn’t say anything that would cross over from a friend. Instead, he grabs one basket and sets it on top of the other so he can carry both. As I follow him out of the house, I find myself wishing he would’ve said something off color. Not so he can prove the misogynistic jerk I met on the side of the road months ago is the same man carrying my laundry to his truck, but because I want to take him up on any offer that comes out of his mouth. I knew I was only kidding myself thinking I could ever be friends with him. My heart is his, and he’s perfectly content with doing as I suggested. Only yesterday, I drew the line at friendship, and he hasn’t crossed it once. How dare he be exactly who I told him he has to be to stay in my life.

As he drives to the newer and nicer laundry mat near campus, I work numerous scenarios through my mind.

“I’ve got it,” he says a minute later when I climb out and reach for my laundry basket. “I can carry them, just grab the door for me.”

After tugging open the door, I stand and watch as he reaches into the backseat, the fabric of his t-shirt stretching across the hidden muscles. My mouth runs dry at the sight.

“Why can’t you be ugly?” I mumble as he begins to make his way back. “Or smell bad?”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing,” I tell him, following close behind after he steps through the door.

“I was thinking,” he says as he places his overloaded basket on one of the tables, “you could come over to my house after we’re done. You know, hang out, grab some Chinese, and watch some TV.”

“That’s—” I begin, but he holds his hand up.

“As friends,” he amends. “No funny business. I promise.”

But I want funny business.

I smile at him, wanting to toy with him, but not wanting to risk the chance of him rescinding his offer. “That’s a great idea.”