Wreck You

by Jennifer Snyder

  First thing Monday morning I called my mom to find out how my dad had done on his first night home. We’d all eaten together the night before in celebration of his homecoming, but I was still a little worried. Cassie had made salmon with lemon dill sauce and loads of green veggies to go with it. I ate, but the second I got home, I made myself a loaded baked potato, pigged out on some popcorn, and drank one too many beers.

  I was definitely feeling the beers this morning.

  Pressing my cell to my ear, I rubbed my forehead with my other hand while I waited for my mom to pick up. My eyes moved to the clock when no one answered right away. It was only seven in the morning. Maybe I was calling too early. Right when I was positive it would go to voice mail, my mom picked up.

  “Sorry, honey, I was trying to get to it as fast as I could,” she answered. “I had it on vibrate, and couldn’t figure out what the noise was for a minute.”

  “It’s all right. Sorry to call so early. I just wanted to check and see how Dad did last night before I head to the shop.” I could hear the sound of a door closing, and then the shuffling of my mother’s famous fuzzy purple slippers as she made her way through the house.

  “He did all right. He was glad to be sleeping in his own bed,” she whispered. “Me, on the other hand, I wasn’t able to sleep. I kept worrying something would happen to him and I wouldn’t know until morning. I think I spent half the night with my finger under his nose, making sure he was still breathing.” She chuckled. It was strangled sounding, as though it was forced and for my benefit only.

  I scratched my head and paced. Hearing my mother sound so frazzled and knowing there was nothing I could do to ease it killed me. “Maybe you’ll sleep better tonight now that last night went well.”

  It was the only thing I could think to say.

  “That’s what I’m hoping. I’ve come to realize I’m too old to go this long without good sleep.” She chuckled again. This time it sounded more authentic. I heard her mutter something to someone about coffee. “Aubrey wants to say hello. I love you. Thanks for picking up the slack at Mason’s, honey. I honestly don’t know what I would do if you weren’t able to handle that.”

  My insides tingled and a large smile spread across my face. Hearing your mom tell you how proud she was of you for something never got old—not even when you were technically a grown-ass man.

  “No problem. It’s fine, really,” I insisted. “Love you too. Put Aubrey on.”

  There was a pause while the phone switched from Mom to Aubrey.

  “Hey, hold on a second,” my sister said. A creak of a door being opened and then the sound of it closing filled my ears.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I wanted to step outside to talk to you away from Mom,” she insisted. “So, Dad mentioned something last night after you left about the Old Tipton Inn job. He wanted to make sure you remembered it.”

  I cracked a grin. “The guys have been working on that place for a week now. What’s there to forget?”

  “I don’t know. I think he’s just worried you’ll feel too overwhelmed and forget something. Are you?” she asked. There was a slight amount of concern etched into her words.

  Taking a sip of my coffee, I burnt the tip of my tongue and licked my lips. “No, I’m fine.”

  I was, but I wasn’t. This was stressful, but I felt as though it was something I had to do. It was my place in all of this, my role.

  Aubrey normally could see right through my lines of shit—that was in her job description of being an older sister—but for whatever reason, she didn’t call me on it this time.

  “That’s what I told him,” she muttered. “Carl could help out if you need him to, or I could. You know that, right? If things get to be too much, please let me know.”

  Her words irked me. They made me feel as though she didn’t think I could hack it by myself for however long I needed to. I’d been working for Dad since I was fourteen. It wasn’t as if I was some newbie, who had just been hired on two days ago.

  “I’ve got it under control. I’m fine. You focus on you. Keep strong for Mom and Cassie,” I insisted.

  “Cassie is strong on her own, and I think Mom is handling it all pretty well, considering.”

  “Then help Mom with the house or something. There’s plenty you could be doing besides worrying about whether I’ve got the shop taken care of.” My words came out clipped and harsher than I’d intended, but I needed to get my point across.

  “The problem is, you really need to make sure you’re handling everything there properly, Ian. Mom and Dad are going to need the money now. You have no idea how much something like this will cost them. Mom’s freaking out,” Aubrey snapped back.

  “I’ve got it,” I insisted. “Besides, they have health insurance. This is what it’s for.”

  “It won’t cover everything,” Aubrey muttered in a tone I didn’t care for. “Hell, it probably will only touch about a fraction of the bill.”

  This knowledge added extra weight to my shoulders, weight I didn’t need.

  “I gotta go. Tell Dad I called to check on him, and let Mom know I’ll probably swing by some time tonight. I’ll talk to you later.” I hung up without waiting for her to utter another word.

  * * * *

  By 7:50, I’d called all of the guys and gotten updates on what they were doing and how much longer their current jobs would take. Things were still going decent, and I figured I wouldn’t have to find a thing for any of them to do for another week. On the other hand, Brent and I were about to be swamped with work for the next few days. This was good though. Hopefully, it would keep my mind occupied during the day, and keep things feeling as normal as possible for me.

  “What was the number again?” Brent asked. He nearly had his face pressed against the passenger-side window while helping me search for the house we were supposed to be at fifteen minutes ago.

  “Sixteen,” I snapped. It was the fourth time I’d said the damn house number. “Jesus Christ, I guess I’ll just call them. I can’t find this freaking place and we’re late.”

  “It’s got to be the one back there, I’m telling you,” Brent insisted. “Turn around and I’ll go knock on the door to see. Even if it isn’t the right one, maybe they’ll know where the Hylands live. Chill out.”

  Letting out a deep breath, I pulled into the first driveway I saw, and turned the van around. We’d been driving up and down the same street, searching for this house that was nowhere to be found, for what seemed like forever, and I was beyond irritated.

  “It doesn’t have a number, but I feel it in my gut this is the place,” Brent assured me as I pulled into the semicircle driveway.

  Lights were on, but there was no car parked in the driveway. This was not unusual to see. Generally, in this type of neighborhood, the lights were on to detour thieves from breaking into their house. This was the summer home section of Carver, which was the next town over from Coldcreek and Norhurst. More of a city than a town, Carver was home to mostly wealthy idiots who built five-thousand-square-foot cottages to stay in during their summer vacations, or when they wanted to rough it and have a rustic Christmas with snow.

  “Lights are on, so maybe someone is home,” Brent, the ever optimistic lately, said.

  “You know as well as I do that all these houses are probably set on a timer or controlled by their homeowner’s smartphone,” I grumbled. I shifted the van into park and sat, waiting on Brent to go knock on their door.

  “We’ll see,” he muttered.

  Watching as he walked up the flagstone walkway to the double front door, I sat back in my seat and finished the remaining sips of my coffee. My heart was racing and I couldn’t sit still, but it didn’t stop me from wishing I had a magic refill button for my mug. This rush of energy was sure to wear off quicker than I would like. My eyes drifted to the landscaping of the house, and then back to where Brent stood. The front door opened and revealed a Spanish woman in her early thirties. I watched as t
he two of them conversed for a moment, but was unable to tell if this was the right place. Brent walked back to the van with a shit-eating grin on his face and his hands crammed into the front pockets of his cargo shorts.

  “It’s the place,” he said. He opened the passenger door and reached inside for his drink. “And did you see the size of those knockers? Holy shit!”

  I shook my head and grinned. “That would be the only thing you noticed.”

  “I noticed her plump lips and killer body, too.”

  “If she lives in a house like this, she’s definitely not gonna be interested in you.” I cut the engine on the van and grabbed the keys.

  “Never know. She could be the type to do the pool boy.” Brent walked around to the back of the van and opened the doors so we could get out our supplies.

  Flipping through some notes, I made sure I knew what we were doing here—adding under-cabinet lighting in the kitchen. Cramming my notes into my back pocket, I reached for my tool belt and secured it in place.

  “You’re not a pool boy; you’re just an electrician,” I reminded him with a smirk.

  “Even better,” he insisted. “I’m smarter than a damn pool boy, but I still have a kickass body.”

  “Better make sure her loaded husband isn’t home before you go flashing around that panty-dropping smile of yours.”

  “Lucky for me she already said he wasn’t.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me.

  Sophia Hyland was a thirty-two-year-old woman with the largest, fakest breasts I’d ever seen. She had a thick Spanish accent, long, dark hair, and wore the highest heels ever made. Dressed in a leopard print top and skin-tight leggings, nothing on her figure was left to the imagination.

  “The kitchen is this way,” Mrs. Hyland said as she directed us through the house with a hand on her hip.

  “Look at that ass, man,” Brent whispered, biting at his knuckle as we followed behind her. “I’m gonna be fighting semi-wood the entire time we’re here.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Jesus, dude, you’re like a sex addict or something.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.” He grinned.

  While Sofia was good-looking, the diamond the size of my face on her left hand was enough indication for me to look but not touch. Brent, on the other hand, didn’t view such things the way I did. Every woman was fair game to him—unless she was dead.

  “Did the lights you ordered get shipped here on time?” I asked Mrs. Hyland. My eyes darted around her kitchen, which was the size of my entire house.

  “Yes, the decorator brought them by yesterday afternoon,” she said in her thick accent.

  She leaned her elbows on the island in the center of the room and glared at me. Her cleavage was so deep, it could suffocate someone, and her breasts were about to bust free from her shirt any minute. I generally wasn’t the type of guy who stared hardcore at a woman’s chest. I was more an ass man, and I freaking loved the hell out of that little dip that occurred right at the small of a woman’s back. However, when they were on display like that, there was no way I couldn’t not look at them.

  Ripping my eyes away, I glanced around the place and searched for the boxes so we could get started. “Where are they?”

  “I’ll go get them.” She smiled seductively.

  Oh, man, this woman knew what she was working with. I prayed Brent would amp up his game so she’d focus on him and him alone. Married women were not my style.

  “She’s just my type, man—loaded, magma hot, and ready for a good lay. I can see it burning in her eyes,” Brent said once she’d left the room. He rubbed his stomach as though he were hungry and about to gobble her up. “I bet if I could find a picture of her husband, he’d be one of two things—either old as fuck or butt-ass ugly. Chicks like her are fuckin’ gold diggers.”

  I chuckled, because he was right, but that still didn’t mean I agreed with what he would most likely be doing later. I moved to the cabinets where the lights would be going, and laid out the tools I would need to get the job done.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  LAUREN

  Come Wednesday night I was completely ready to head out the next morning and catch my flight to Greece with Jimmy. I’d packed everything I thought I would need over the next four days, filled my birth control, and obtained my expedited passport. My suitcase was crammed full and parked beside my front door, waiting to be wheeled out to my car and loaded.

  Since I wouldn’t be home for my birthday, everyone had opted to meet at my favorite Mexican restaurant, Verde Guacamole in Coldcreek, to celebrate with me. My parents were excited that they didn’t have to drive to Norhurst, and I was thrilled because nothing said happy birthday better than the margaritas at Verde Guacamole.

  “There’s one over there, babe,” Paige said to Cameron, while pointing to a parking space near the end of the aisle.

  Cameron started to pull into the space she’d found, and realized at the last second it was occupied by a motorcycle. “Damn it, looks like we’re walking, then.”

  “Wow, this place is jammin’ tonight.” I grinned.

  “Were you trying to go for celebrity status tonight by calling everyone you know and telling them margaritas were on you if they showed up?” Cameron asked in a teasing tone.

  Locking eyes with him in the rearview mirror, I flashed him a nasty look. “Heck no. You know my bank account can barely even afford to buy my own damn drinks tonight.”

  “Well, let’s not stress it out, then. How about I buy your drinks tonight?” he asked.

  Cameron was loaded. His parents had died in a horrible car accident when he was a teenager, and he’d inherited all of his family’s money. Every quarter he had to meet up with his attorney—who happened to be his legal guardian when he was younger, and also Paige’s crazy ex’s dad—to sign for the next deposit of money into his bank account. Even though he was rich, you would never know from hanging out with him. Cameron was incredibly down to earth.

  “I think I can accept that as a birthday gift.” I smiled.

  “Please try not to drink too heavily tonight,” Jimmy said from beside me. “Remember the airplane bathrooms are tiny and everyone can hear you. Plus traveling while hung-over is not something anyone would recommend, I’m sure.”

  “I know. I’m not planning on getting smashed.” I squeezed one eye shut and pressed my index finger and thumb together so they were nearly touching. “Just a little bit tipsy.”

  Jimmy lightly slapped the palm of his hand against my bare thigh. “All right, don’t tell me tomorrow I didn’t warn you, because I will be the first to say I told you so.”

  Paige laughed. “I wouldn’t tell her that if I were you. You’re liable to get punched.”

  I narrowed my eyes at Paige, and then shifted to look at Jimmy. Crinkling my nose, I nodded. “She’s right, just so you know.”

  We pulled into a parking space in the last row, and climbed out of Cameron’s sporty silver car. Blaire and Jason were already standing out front when we walked up.

  “Hey! Happy early birthday!” Blaire shouted. She wrapped her arms around me for a hug. “Your parents and Meg are already inside. They snagged us a table while we waited on you guys to get here.”

  “Awesome.” I looped my arm through Jimmy’s and headed inside.

  The scent of spices and sounds of mariachi music filled my senses. Dear God, I loved this place. Following Blaire and Jason to the back, I spotted everyone seated at the long table against the far wall. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone out to eat with my family, but I could remember the last time with my friends. Paige had still been dating Craig, her asshole of an ex, and Cameron had joined us with Eva at his side. That had been an interesting first meeting. Both Cameron and Eva had moved up to the top of my friend list specifically for the way they’d talked to Craig. I’d never cared much for him. Any guy who still lived with his parents at our age was a loser in my book. That should have been Paige’s first sign when it came to him. Thank goodness she’d mov
ed on to better things—and from what I’d heard—bigger things as well.

  Jimmy pulled my seat out for me, and I slipped in while meeting my mom’s eye. “Hi.”

  Mom flicked her eyes to Jimmy, and then back to me. “Hi, are you all packed and ready for tomorrow?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “My suitcase is waiting eagerly by my front door.”

  “Have they gotten anything more done on your apartment?” my dad asked.

  “Not a whole lot. All of my stuff was moved out, and they’ve ripped out the ceiling tiles so far.” I scooted in my chair a little more. “Hopefully, when I get back, everything will be finished.”

  “How long are you going to be gone for again?” Mom asked.

  She was nervous for me. I could see it in her eyes. When I finally told my parents where I would be spending my birthday, she’d sort of freaked. She’d listed reasons for why she felt it was a bad idea. Jimmy and I not being an actual couple and only knowing each other for a small amount of time were both at the top. She’d actually said she would have heart failure if I went to Greece with him, and then never came back because he’d trapped me over there. I’d told her that she was being seriously melodramatic, and that this wasn’t some weird Lifetime movie. I would be fine. It still didn’t calm her nerves.

  Once we ordered our drinks and conversation moved from my trip to other topics of interest, things seemed to go smoothly. My mom seemed to relax, my sister grew more infatuated with Jimmy than she already was, and my friends each appeared to be enjoying themselves. The only person missing from the night was Eva. Damn Eva and her busy life, she always seemed to miss out on all the good stuff.

  After my fourth margarita, I could barely stand, let alone walk myself to the bathroom to pee. Thankfully, Blaire had opted to assist me.

  “Oh my God, I’m freaking smashed.” I slipped my panties down and hiked up my skirt while I attempted to pee with the room spinning. “I’m cutting myself off. If not, I’ll be a raving bitch tomorrow while traveling.”

  My words sounded right to me, but from the way Blaire was cackling like a hyena outside the stall door, I was sure they were running together and thick sounding.