“Yeah, Edric,” I said lightheartedly. “Enough with the dad jokes. You’re upsetting your sisters.”
Pivoting toward me, Molly cried, “Oh, God, Lucy. Have you heard all his lame dad jokes?”
“I believe I have,” I answered demurely.
She snickered. “They’re bad, aren’t they?”
“So bad.”
“Right?” Her voice pitched higher. “He is the king of dad jokes! How on earth do you put up with our brother?”
I simply shrugged and Edric said, “My Lucy has the patience of Job.” Reaching for my hand, he interlaced our fingers. “And besides, she loves all my jokes.”
His sisters exchanged identical raised eyebrows.
“Has he told you the one about the skunk?” McKenzie asked.
“Yes.” I bit back a smile. “He has. Lovely stuff.”
Edric said smugly, “Can’t go wrong with that one.”
“Sweet suffering Jesus.” Molly groaned. “He tells my friends that joke all the time. It’s freakin’ embarrassing.”
“Oh, please, your friends love it.” Edric laughed good-naturedly. “And I’ve got a new one. You want to hear it?”
McKenzie looked aghast. “Can you not? I almost died when you told my boyfriend the skunk joke.”
“Hold up,” I said with some surprise. “You have a boyfriend?”
As if on cue, her phone dinged and she glanced at the display. “Uh-huh,” she mumbled distractedly.
“That’s probably her boyfriend, Nixin, texting her right now,” Molly supplied. “She’ll text him these super long paragraphs and he’ll respond with a ‘K’” She giggled. “Drives her mental.”
“I can relate,” I said with a smile. “My ex was a one-word texter and it destroyed me.”
“What about my brother?”
“Hmm.” I pondered my response, choosing my words carefully. “How shall I say this nicely? Edric is not a one-word texter, to put it lightly.”
“Can you be more specific?” Molly said wickedly. “And you don’t have to be nice about it. He’s not easily offended. Edric’s got super-thick skin.”
“She’s right,” he acknowledged. “The thickest. Born in it. Molded by it.” He said this like he was some sort of X-Men mutant superhero. “So go for it. Don’t hold anything back at my expense.”
“Okay,” I said coolly. “Edric likes to unleash a logorrheic verbal assault of words in his texts.”
“Logorrheic,” Molly mused aloud. “What does that mean?”
“It’s the pathological excessive talkativeness and incoherent wordiness that’s characteristic of the manic phase of bipolar disorder,” I explained.
“I see,” she said knowingly. “So he texts you a deluge of words. Like verbal diarrhea?”
“Exactly,” I said. “There’s always a verbal diarrhea-like spontaneity to his texts.”
“And you like that?”
“Actually, I do. It’s the sort of humor I like with all the wordplay.” I paused and pondered. “How do I describe it? It’s like this Bugs Bunny-Robin Williams rapid-fire combo, with a dash of Steve Carell.”
“Wow.” Edric stared at me, clearly taken aback. “That’s high praise coming from you.”
“Awww.” Molly beamed her approval. “He is quite loveable, isn’t he?”
“He is.” I gave Edric’s hand a gentle squeeze. “When he’s not meandering around coffee shops and cafes, picking fights with homophobic golfers, he just sort of hangs out at home. He lazes around all day on his sprawling estate, doing absolutely nothing. But he’s also fun and he doesn’t take life too seriously, and part of what makes him so darn lovable is his penchant for saying the worst possible things at the worst possible times. He has no filter and I find that quite endearing, really.”
“Ha ha! That’s my brother!” Molly trilled cheerfully and began peppering me with questions. “Does he do anything romantic?”
“Every morning, he hands me an egg sandwich just as I’m heading out the door.”
“Hmm.” Molly appeared somewhat perplexed. “That’s not really romantic, though.”
“See, I disagree. I think it’s very romantic. Maybe it’s just me but I love the simple things, not the grand gestures.”
Molly didn’t seem satisfied with my answer. “What else?”
“I love how he surprises me with to-go dinners and he always remembers to take the onions off of my In-N-Out burgers when they mess up my order.”
“My brother’s so thoughtful,” she enthused.
“He is. I remember one time my straw was all bent and crimped and I was complaining how I couldn’t suck up my milkshake through the straw. And without a second thought, he pulled the maimed straw from my chocolate shake and put his flawless one in its place.”
“Now that’s pretty romantic,” she granted.
“Oh, the best part was watching him suck extra-hard on my mangled straw. Even though he was struggling and hardly any milkshake was coming out of that straw, he didn’t seem to mind one bit. He didn’t regret his sacrifice or resent me for it. His face was a picture of pure contentment.”
“Ohmigaahd,” Molly gushed. “I love that.”
“Me, too,” I said. “It’s these simple moments I adore. They’re neither grand nor glamorous, but they stay with me.”
“Aww.” She was practically swooning. “Tell me more.”
The scorching heat was sapping my energy to move, much less think. “Ask your brother,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to bring you up to speed.”
“Yo, Edric,” she called.
Nothing. No response. It was clear he’d barely heard a word we’d said. He was far too engrossed with something on McKenzie’s phone.
“Give me that.” He snatched her phone away and began texting, his thumbs working in perfect tandem.
“What are you doing?” she cried.
“This guy’s a scumbag of the highest order.” His anger spiked, rolling off him in waves. “And he needs to know this is no way to talk to a young girl, or any girl for that matter.”
“Teaaaaa.” Molly’s enthusiasm was palpable. “What’d you say to her boyfriend?”
“I told him if he ever says anything inappropriate to Kenz, I will unleash a level of crazy that will make his nightmares seem like a safe place.”
Damn, boy! So intense. Edric wasn’t playing around here. He was straight-up pissed. “What did he say to your sister?” I asked.
“That he wants to eat her ass.” He scowled. “Can you believe that? She’s fourteen! How old is this dude, Kenz?”
“Same age as me!” she snapped and snatched her phone back from her brother.
“Who is this disgusting dingus?” he demanded.
“Just some rando from my school responding to my Instagram story. You know, one of those ‘Type Something’ question stickers.’”
“Is this how boys talk to you? Who raised these losers?”
“Chill out, Edric.” I patted his arm. “They’re just kids.”
Molly merely chuckled. “Oh, we’re used to this. He’s overly protective to a fault.”
“Stay away from that douchebag.” Edric’s face was drawn tight, his jaw clenched. “And be careful who you’re friends with on social media. You may think you’re talking to some young stud, but he could very well be some creepy-ass Crypt Keeper texting you as his saggy balls touch the toilet water.”
“BLERRRGGH.” McKenzie made a gagging noise while Molly snorted in derision.
“Nice, Edric. Real nice.” I cut him a reproachful look. “You’ve scarred them for life.” I tried for a haughtily arched brow, but it was hard to restrain the grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. “I gotta hand it to you, that was pretty good. Oh, God,” I said, tearful from cackling so hard. “Saggy balls touching toilet water... that is gold.”
“I’m just saying.” Some of the anger seemed to leave him and he spoke calmly, evenly. “There are lots of sickos out there in this world and you girls need to b
e more careful on social media.”
“Your brother’s right,” I said when I was interrupted by McKenzie’s phone dinging with an incoming text.
Edric frowned. “What’s your boyfriend saying now?”
She sighed with a certain degree of irritation. “I’ve already told you he’s not my boyfriend. He’s just some random guy who replied to my Instagram story.”
All three of us peered over her shoulder to read this rando’s text.
It simply said: sksksksksksk
“Humph.” Edric grunted. “This boy can’t even string a word together, let alone a sentence. Why are you talking to these dumb yokels who don’t have two brain cells to rub together?”
Another text came through. This one said: sksksksksk sksksksksk
“Wow,” Edric said without inflection. “Douchebag Volume 1 and 2, right here. Must be his greatest hits.”
“Oh, be quiet!” McKenzie glared at her brother before texting away.
It said: Sorry, that was my annoying stepbrother.
Her phone dinged right away with a reply: Tell him to commit scooter ankle. And after that, he can go commit toaster bathtub.
Scooter ankle? Toaster bathtub? I blinked. This is how they talk?
Is all hope lost?!?
“Seriously?” Edric gave a harsh laugh. “That’s all his pea-sized brain could come up with?”
Molly took it upon herself to explain the senseless text. “He’s condemning you to the worst, most vile pain imaginable, and then he’s telling you to go kill yourself.”
What is wrong with the youth of today?
Barely two seconds later, another text came through. “And now he’s telling you to stop bullying him.”
“What?” he barked and swiped her phone away for the second time.
He texted: Go play the world’s smallest violin.
“You’re so petty.” McKenzie shook her head slowly.
Edric handed the phone back to his sister. “He’s the one who sent you a very inappropriate text and then told me to go kill myself. He’s lucky I’m being petty. What I should do is report him to the authorities. That pervo needs to be on the FBI watch list.”
“Calm down. He’s not a predator or a pedophile,” she said flippantly and popped a chewing gum into her mouth. “He’s a harmless kid. I’ll just block him.”
“Yes,” he said. “Do that.”
“Done.”
“Good.”
“Great,” she said, blowing a bubble that burst against her lips with a pop.
FOR THE REST OF THE afternoon, we walked around in the sweltering heat with our stomachs growling. When we weren’t braving the vomit-inducing rides and getting whiplash in the process, we were waiting in line for rides and watching teenagers grind up against the metal dividers.
And then there were the couples with their hands shoved in each other’s back pockets as they walked facing one another until they got to the front of the line—an hour later.
If I see one more vomit-inducing couple, I’m going to commit homicide.
It seemed no matter where we turned, there was always a kid throwing a tantrum or crying. There was no escaping it.
Ugh. Someone murder me now.
“Whose brilliant idea was this again?” I asked as we stood in the endless line. “To come to Six Flags today?”
Edric looked mortally offended. “Aren’t you girls having a grand time?”
“Yeah,” they answered miserably. “Just grand.”
“How about we go on a water ride to cool down?”
“No, thanks,” Molly said at once. “They’re filthy pits of despair. I don’t want to get splashed by bacteria-infested water.”
“She’s right,” I said. “It’s a Petri dish of pathogens.”
“Fine,” he huffed. “Be that way.”
“Awww, look at you.” I jabbed him in the ribs. “You’re so cute when you’re pouty and upset. I’ll go on a water ride if it’ll make you happy.”
His face lit up. “You will?”
“No.” I gave a dismissive laugh.
He was crestfallen. “You devious, devious woman.”
I shrugged. “You never want to go horseback riding with me.”
“I mean, I would say that I’d come horseback riding with you.” A pause. “But I probably wouldn’t.”
“Thanks for getting my hopes up.”
“Thank for crushing mine.” He elbowed me playfully and I tweaked his nipple through his shirt, grinning as a laugh escaped him. “Hey!” He slapped my hand away. “Stop that!” When I came at him again, he blocked my hand and dodged to the side. “Gah! Get those tentacle fingers away from my nips.”
“Oh, yeah?” I rushed forward with a right-hand strike to his left nipple. “When has telling me not to do something ever stopped me from doing it?”
He neatly deflected and caught my arm. “Never,” he said before letting go.
As I relaxed my stance, I realized we had an audience.
Molly regarded me for a moment before cocking her head like a curious bird. “You’re just as my brother describes you.”
“Yeah.” McKenzie gnawed on her chewing gum. “To the T.”
“Huh.” I narrowed my eyes. “And how exactly does he describe me?”
Meanwhile, Edric was taking an inordinate amount of interest in the splatter of clouds in the sky.
How very interesting, I thought. He doesn’t even dare look at me.
McKenzie chuckled. “Don’t worry, he only says good things about you.”
“Like?” I ventured.
“He says you’re super fun to be around.”
“True.” I nodded sagely.
“He thinks you’re feisty. You have this take-no-prisoners attitude and he’s convinced you can wrestle a bear if you’re angry enough.”
“Also true.” I nodded again. “What else does he say?”
“That you’re an enigma. That you’re sharp and accomplished but you can also be childish and immature.”
“Immature?” I pressed my lips together, a thin line of defiance. “I am not.”
“Oh, don’t sweat it.” She waved my words aside. “He’s the same. Here’s the thing, he says you’re this crazy hell-raiser who’s the complete opposite of everything he’s used to, but that’s what attracts him to you. That’s what he finds intriguing and so attractive.”
“Oh.” My lips parted in surprise.
“Also,” Molly chimed in, “he thinks you’re smokin’ hot.”
“Smokin’ hot, you say?” Now this was getting better. “Tell me more.”
“He thinks it’s cute that your nose scrunches up when you smile and your eyes become crescent moons and—”
“No,” McKenzie cut her off. “Not crescent moons. It’s croissants. He says when Lucy laughs and smiles, her eyes squint into mini-croissants and it makes him happy.”
My heart stuttered and I might have melted a little inside. Then I cut him a bemused look. “Is that true? I make you happy?”
Edric was squinting at the sky, refusing to make eye contact with me.
“It is.” Molly was emphatic. “And he says the corners of your mouth crease into WiFi signals when you smile. He thinks it’s the cutest thing ever.”
Slightly befuddled, I wondered aloud, “WiFi signals?” And then it hit me. “Oh, like a stream of water ripples moving outward.”
“Yeah!” they cried at once. “That!”
“Wow.” I smiled broadly, and I imagined my face looking like a rippling koi pond. “Eyes like mini croissants and cheeks like WiFi signals. Well, damn, I’m gonna start calling him Edric Hemingway.”
They sent me a blank stare. “Who’s he?”
“He is a novelist who once said that when you stop doing things for fun, you might as well be dead.”
“Huh.” Molly twisted her lips. “I like this Hemingway dude.”
“I like your brother. And I never knew I was all he talked about.”
Edric was still look
ing skyward, at God knew what, wearing a pained expression on his face.
“Oh, you’re his favorite topic,” McKenzie informed me. “And he says you’re pretty much his favorite person of all time, in the history of ever.”
“Wow.” I breathed.
“You want more tea?”
“I want all the tea,” I said manically. “All of it.”
“Boil the water, sis,” Molly said gleefully. “We’re gonna spill the tea right here, right now.”
McKenzie could barely contain herself. “You know our brother plays in a lacrosse league, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, Molls and I went to one of his tourneys last week and they were handing out new jerseys before the game. I guess they do that every season or something. Anyway, Edric had a different number on his jersey.”
Molly inched forward in the long line, bumping into a sticky toddler. “You see, all the years we’ve watched him play, he was number eight. That was his jersey. That was him.”
“Yes,” McKenzie said forcefully. “He was always number eight, so you can see how we were shocked to see him rocking a different number.”
“We were floored,” Molly added salaciously. “So after the tourney, we asked him about it and he told us—”
“Wait!” He dragged his face away from the sky and cast his sisters an imploring look. “You don’t have to tell her what I said.”
Oh, whaddaya know? It appears that Mute Edric has a voice after all.
Unfazed, they said, “Yah, we do.”
“You don’t,” he objected.
“I’m telling her.” Molly jutted out her chin in clear defiance.
“Tell her, sis.” McKenzie was nearly dancing with impatience. “Tell her now or I will.”
Molly hissed at her sister before continuing, “So our brother said he picked number eleven because that was the month and day he met you. Eleven, eleven.”
“November eleventh!” McKenzie cried.
“Edric.” I skewed him a glance that was both charming and cheeky. “Now I have to come to one of your games. Who knew there was so much meaning behind the number on your jersey?”
In spite of his over-the-top good looks and his even more over-the-top personality, right this moment he seemed understated, almost shy. “It was a good month.” His mouth lifted in a half smile. “And a good day.”
The Good Mistake (Hemsworth Brothers #3) Page 13
