Sy whistled. “This is beautiful.”
“It’s alright,” Easton said.
“You’re too humble.”
Easton chuckled and pulled out a piece of sandpaper. He sat down and began to work on a bench next to the finished table. “Now, what’s on your mind?”
“You ever talk to Delia anymore? Or Ames?”
Easton’s eyebrows shot up. “Delia, no. Though I know she’s back in town right now. Not sure if it’s for good or not. We see Amy pretty often. Why?”
Sy rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans and licked his lips. “I was thinking about trying to talk to them. You know, to apologize for everything that went down.”
“Which part are you apologizing for? Beating up Derek? Getting arrested? Or never apologizing in the first place?”
Sy leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He stared down at the sawdust at his feet, listening to the rasp of the sandpaper. “All of that, I guess. Is it stupid to think about doing that now, after so much time has passed?”
“It’s never too late to say you’re sorry. I respect that.”
“I don’t know if they even still care. Or if they’d want to see me at all.”
“Time heals, as they say. It can also let wounds fester when they aren’t properly cleaned.” Easton’s voice sounded more bitter than Sy had ever heard it.
Sy kicked the toe of his boot through the sawdust, stirring it into little piles. “Got any advice for an apology? I’m not so good with words. Everything I’ve thought of sounds stupid. Or, like not enough.”
Easton paused his sanding, then started up again. “What’s your end goal? I mean, past soothing your conscience. What do you hope to get out of this?”
Sy groaned. “Dude. I’ve already got one therapist. I don’t need another.”
“You have a therapist?” Easton lifted one brow.
“Yeah. I do. And before you say anything, he’s awesome. I highly recommend therapy for everyone.”
“Huh.” Easton went back to sanding. His next words were more measured. “Are you hoping to get together with Delia?”
“No.” Lie.
Okay, so maybe he’d thought about the possibility more than once in the last twelve hours. It said something that Delia held his interest longer than anyone ever had. All the women he had dated in college and in San Antonio? Not one of them had captured or held his attention or his affection the way Delia had. And, now that he had started thinking about her, still did.
When he checked Delia’s Instagram the night before at the hotel, a glance turned into hours of scrolling through her feed. She looked good. Why she hadn’t made it big yet, he didn’t know. Because she certainly looked like a Hollywood starlet.
In her latest picture, she’d been striking a cheer pose next to the Katy High School sign, which told Sy two things: first, that she was in Katy, and second, that he wasn’t the only one feeling nostalgic.
Maybe this was the reason he’d been drawn home. Not just for an apology, but for a second chance at something more.
Maybe Delia was the one who would fill that gap Sy had been feeling in his life. The idea made the back of his neck heat up.
He wasn’t about to admit any of this to Easton. The twins had always teased him about the way he hung around Delia, just hoping she would pay him attention. You’re like a dog, waiting for her scraps, Elton had said once. The words stung and had stayed with him.
But Sy had known Delia was worth the wait. He kept hoping for that moment when Delia would realize that she was in love with the guy who had been there for her all along. Prom had been his big chance, and he’d blown it.
“So, if Delia was interested in you now, are you saying you wouldn’t be game?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Sy stood. “I need to figure out an apology first. Everything I think of sounds stupid or cheesy. I thought maybe you or Elton could help me figure out what to say. Or get me started.”
Easton glanced back at Sy. “Maybe Elton can help you. He’s great with words. And the ladies.” He muttered this last part. “He just pulled in. I heard his car in the drive.” Easton nodded to the doorway without looking up.
It was a dismissal if Sy ever saw one. Easton seemed a lot more prickly than Sy remembered. He hoped the conversation with Elton would go better. The twins were polar opposites after all.
When Sy walked into the kitchen, Elton spun to face him, clutching his chest dramatically. Sy couldn’t help but grin.
“Well, I’ll be! Look what the cat drug in!”
“Hey, El.”
Elton wrapped Sy in a big hug, whooping a loud greeting. Pax still sat at the table with the bag of peas.
“Hello? Is that all? How about a drink? Food? Pull up a chair. Make yourself at home.”
Pax stood as Sy sat down at the kitchen table. “I’ve got to run. See y’all later. Want these peas back in the freezer?”
“Good idea. With both of y’all home, who knows the next time we’ll need ’em.” Elton winked as both Pax and Sy groaned.
“Too soon,” Pax growled, storming out the back door.
Elton rolled his eyes. “Touchy, touchy. Hope you’re in a better mood, Sylvester. But you’ve got the look of someone who just had a deep discussion with my brother, the wounded philosopher slash woodworker slash horse whisperer.”
Sy chuckled. “Not sure how deep it was. But it’s good to see you both.”
Elton flopped into a chair across the table. “What brought you back to Katy? Not that I’m complaining. It’s really good to see you.”
“You too. It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing,” Sy said, running a hand over his jaw. He probably should buy a razor for this week, unless he wanted to grow a full beard. “I didn’t have other plans. I guess I got to thinking about the past. And prom.”
“Prom? Wow. You really were thinking about the past.”
“Yeah. The team has this whole stupid charity prom thing we have to attend next week.”
Elton’s eyebrows shot up, his eyes wide and round. “You’re joking.”
“Not a joke.”
“A charity prom. That’s …” Elton’s mouth twitched before he burst into full-belly laughs, leaning over the table.
“Yeah, laugh it up. You’re not the one who’s being forced to go. It’s ridiculous.”
“Well, I hope this one turns out better than the last one.” Sy practically growled and Elton held up both hands. “Sorry, brother. I couldn’t resist. Still a touchy subject?”
Sy shook out his shoulders, trying to drop the tension that had found its way into his muscles. “I was thinking about tracking Delia down and saying I’m sorry. But I need some words that don’t suck. And maybe a grand gesture.”
Grand gesture. That phrase jogged his memory, and how he’d planned out the big prom asks for both Delia and Amy. He sat up straighter in his chair, the idea smacking him all at once. “Maybe asking her to go to the charity prom with me.”
Elton almost fell out of his chair. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s kind of like a do-over. A second chance.” The more Sy thought about it, the more it seemed like a perfect idea. He could see himself walking into the ballroom at the charity prom with Delia on his arm, together like they should have been six and a half years ago.
“Wow. I mean, that’s awesome. I’m all for making amends and all that. But asking her out?” Elton shook his head. “None of us were that broken up about you and Delia back then. Honestly, we thought you dodged a bullet. I’d hate to see you step in front of it now.”
Sy found himself clenching his fist under the table. “Why were you guys so against me and Delia?”
“You were too good for her.”
Sy choked out a laugh. “Me? Too good for her? That’s rich. She was the most popular girl in school. Homecoming and prom queen.” Even without him at her side, Delia had won. And managed to pick up a new boyfriend that same night.
Elton shook his head. “I
’m not sure you ever really saw Delia.”
“Oh, I saw her alright.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” Elton said with a sigh. “You just saw her with your eyes. And I get it. She was a pretty girl. And now, she’s a gorgeous woman. Those blue eyes and legs for days. Mostly used for social climbing though. And you were her next ladder.”
Sy glared at Elton. “You’re remembering this all wrong. Socially? I was nothing. I played football, sure. But other than you guys, basically no one knew me off the field. At least not until senior year.”
The summer after junior year, Sy had a late growth spurt, growing six inches and packing on forty pounds of muscle working out with the team. He stopped riding the bench, both literally and figuratively.
“Until you got that scholarship to UT. You had the road to pro paved out for you, and Delia wanted to hitch a ride.”
Was that true? The thought struck Sy like a physical blow.
He had asked Delia to prom after he got the scholarship. But that didn’t necessarily mean anything. It was a timing thing, not related to his future plans.
Or was it?
“Plus, she never paid you any attention until you got swole.” Elton patted his own bicep, which looked like it had seen the right side of a weight room lately.
Sy rolled his eyes. But Elton’s words were like a poison, moving slowly through his thoughts. They made Delia sound shallow and selfish. Was she? Had he really watched her for all those years and not seen her?
Or maybe the twins just hadn’t known her as well as Sy did. He was the one who spent so much time at their house. Even if there were any truth to it, people change. It had been six years.
“What about Amy?”
Sy frowned. “What about her? I mean, I plan to apologize to her too.”
“Good. But I mean, why not ask her to prom? Technically, she was your date too.”
His shoulders tensed. What was it with people trying to get him together with Amy? First Chad, now Elton.
“Yeah, but not really. She wasn’t ever going to go to the dance, and it wasn’t like a real date or anything. That would just be … weird.”
“Hm. People change, you know.”
“Yeah. And yet you’re still being critical of Delia for who you think she was back then.”
Elton wrinkled his nose. “You’re right. Sorry. I do think that both Delia and Amy would welcome any apology.”
“Thanks, brother.” So much for getting help with what to say.
“It’s just …” Elton pursed his lips. “I don’t want to see Delia get her hooks in you again. You’re a much bigger fish now with a much bigger wallet.” Elton pantomimed casting out a fishing line and reeling it in.
Sy stood, barely holding back his anger. “I better go.”
“No! Don’t run off on account of my big mouth. Always getting me in trouble. I’ll stop. Promise. Let’s go get lunch or something.”
“A little early for lunch, isn’t it?”
Elton stood, smacking Sy on the shoulder. “Don’t tell me you don’t eat twenty thousand calories a day. Come on. Los Cucos. I’ll even let you buy.”
Sy blew out a breath, his stomach grumbling at the thought of his favorite Mexican place. “Fine. Maybe you can help me figure out a place to stay. Pax said he’s crashing here?”
“Yeah, that big lug called dibs on the guest room.” Elton suddenly snapped his fingers, a grin stretching over his face. Sy didn’t like the gleam in his eye. “I’ve got the perfect place for you. A little bed-and-breakfast right in the heart of old Katy. The service is incredible. Great breakfasts. Very hospitable owner.”
“Yeah?” Sy stayed in enough hotels during the season that they all blended together. Something with a more human touch sounded perfect. Normally, he wouldn’t have even thought about a bed-and-breakfast.
Though Elton did still have that look on his face that Sy couldn’t quite trust. After a moment, he sighed. “Fine.”
Elton clapped his hands. “Alright! You’ll love it. Now, let’s fill that belly with tacos!”
Chapter Three
Amy
Amy’s phone buzzed again from its spot on the table, right next to the Cobb salad she had barely touched. Before her sister could notice the doctor’s name on the screen, Amy snatched up her phone.
“Anyone I know?” Delia asked, craning her neck to see the screen.
Swallowing hard, Amy forced a smile and pulled the phone to her chest. “Nope. Telemarketer. You know how that is.”
Delia narrowed her eyes, and Amy held her breath. Her sister was the nosiest of all nosy people when she suspected someone was hiding something.
“You should really put your phone away during lunch. Especially since we never see each other.”
“You’re right.” Amy shoved the phone in her purse.
Hopefully she wouldn’t get any calls for the bed-and-breakfast. She normally didn’t take breaks in the middle of the day like this. But she had no guests at the moment and unless someone showed up out of the blue, it would stay that way. Of course, with her luck, someone would show up right now.
“What were you saying about that audition?” Amy asked.
Her sister rolled her eyes and picked right back up where she left off, telling her something about a casting call for some reality show.
“They wanted to hear us scream. But, like, not just once. I screamed so much that I couldn’t talk for two days.”
Amy took a sip of water to hide her smile. “That must have been terrible.”
“It was. I mean, I’ve made a lot of sacrifices since I’ve moved to L.A., but not being able to talk? I’m an actress. My voice is my life.”
Though Delia calling herself an actress with only a few mostly unnamed extra parts was debatable, Amy would agree that her sister’s voice was a pretty integral part of her life. Because since she’d arrived home a few days before from L.A., Delia had not stopped talking. To be fair, she and Amy hadn’t kept in touch very well. Probably because of the two-hour time difference between Texas and California. At least, that’s what Delia liked to say.
The reason they didn’t keep in touch was because Delia was out living the big life like she always had. While Amy remained stuck here, in Katy. At least she didn’t live with her mom anymore. That’s one positive thing. She had a few friends. She survived cancer!
And she had just over thirty days until the bed-and-breakfast went under.
So, yeah. Things were really happening in her life.
Amy cleared her throat. “What was the reality show for? I mean, why did they have you screaming?”
Delia shrugged. “They wouldn’t tell us. You only find out if you get a callback. I’m still waiting. Speaking of … I should check in case my agent has been trying to reach me.”
Delia rummaged around in her purse before she found her phone and started scrolling through her notifications, as though she hadn’t just told Amy to put her phone away.
I love my sister. I love my sister. I love my sister.
Maybe if she clicked her heels together under the table like Dorothy, the statement would become true. Amy probably shouldn’t need to remind herself of that fact or repeat it as a mantra. But that’s the way it had always been between them. Delia was the bright star, and Amy was the shadow.
They didn’t look so different, at least now that Amy had filled out a little after the cancer treatments. Not for the first time, Amy wondered how her life would have been different if she hadn’t been diagnosed at fourteen.
Back then, she’d been on the fast track to becoming a mini Delia. They’d both done competitive gymnastics and cheer. When Amy compared photos of them in middle school, they could have been twins. Long, blonde hair and lean, athletic bodies. They’d even gotten along. She could remember nights of listening to Delia rattle on about boys while she braided Amy’s hair.
And then … boom. The diagnosis created a split between them, sending them on completely different paths. Making them
into different people. People who struggled to find any common ground. Amy studied Delia as she read through a text, her lips moving silently.
Would that be me if I hadn’t had cancer? Totally vapid and interested only in myself?
Amy twisted the napkin in her lap. She knew that she was being petty and small. She hated the resentment that smoldered in her belly every time she spent time with or talked to or even talked about her sister. It shouldn’t be that way.
From the depths of her purse, Amy’s phone began ringing again. Delia looked at her. “Do you need to take that?”
Amy waved it off. “More telemarketers. Someone sold my number to a list or something.”
Amy couldn’t see the screen, but if it was her doctor calling again, that was not a good sign. Her stomach dropped, and she fought to keep her composure.
She had been expecting his call, but that didn’t ease her dread. It might mean starting treatments again after five years of remission. A totally different cancer this time, though. Breast cancer. Just the thought made Amy want to cross her arms over her chest, like she could possibly protect herself.
No, Amy would call her doctor back tomorrow. Or the day after. She needed some time to process, to be ready just in case. She definitely didn’t want to do that with Delia. Maybe after Christmas. Because who needed bad news before Christmas?
“How is everything at the bed-and-breakfast?” Delia asked, setting her phone down on the table.
Amy blinked, shocked that Delia actually asked her a question. “Um, it’s fine. I mean, you’d think that I’d be booked solid since it’s the week of Christmas. But no—people would rather have a continental cereal breakfast at a motel and pay less.”
Delia wrinkled her nose. “I mean, maybe if you did some updating, it might attract more attention. A paint job or—”
“I just painted.”
“Oh.” Delia laughed. “Sorry. It might just be that Katy’s not really a destination or whatever. Everyone’s trying to get out, not come in. No offense.”
Stealing the Bad Boy Page 3
