Page 89 of Where I Should’ve Been

You more than care about her.

I lean a little closer to the window—trying to grow supersonic hearing or something as the two exchange words on the front steps before heading inside—and end up bumping my forehead into the glass like an idiot.

“What are you doing?” Randy asks from behind me, startling the curtain free from my hand and back into place as I spin to face him.

“Nothing.” I smile nervously. “When’d you get inside?”

No one reads me like my brother—no one. We’ve been through every imaginable high and low together, and he’s the only one who knows everything about me. Still, after the hell I’ve put him through, admitting that I’ve become inconveniently obsessed with Breezy Bishop and even went to the length of hiring her on as a fake farmhand to create an excuse to have her around all the time feels like a betrayal.

“Five minutes ago.” Randy’s hands settle on his hips. “I finished fixing the gate lock Crosby got through like I said I would. And then I moved over to the hole in the fence on the south side, but when you never showed up with more ribbon like you said you would, I just MacGyvered what was there for now. Sheep’ll probably be out again in ten minutes, but can’t shit out hot wire, now can I?”

“Sorry.” I cringe, feeling a little bad for completely forgetting about him out there in the pasture. “It’s getting around dinnertime anyway. We can finish tomorrow.”

Randy shakes his head. “Fine. But I’m going to the diner for dinner, and if those fuckers get loose before I get back, I expect you to leave me out of it.”

“No problem.”

With a sigh as farewell, Randy pushes past me out the door and down the steps to his truck, firing it up and turning around to head for town while I peer out the window again. I watch for his taillights to disappear at the stop sign at the end of Maple and then head out the same door he just left through.

Instead of going to my truck, though, I cross the lawn on quick strides, cut through the gate, and make my way up Bennett and Norah’s driveway until I’m standing at their front door.

I knock twice with gentle knuckles, hoping not to scare anyone or wake a sleeping Autumn for the second time today, and I wait, arms at my sides and mouth filled with uninvited saliva.

The inner door opens first, revealing a knowing-smile-sporting Norah through the storm door. She pushes it open too and then steps out onto the stoop beside me.

“Hey, Tad.”

“Hey, Nor. Can I see Breezy? Is she home?” I ask, pretending I wasn’t spying my ass off enough to know the answer to that question already.

“She’s here, yes, but she’s resting. I really think she needs the sleep, and with how exhausted she was, I doubt she’ll be up before tomorrow morning.”

“Is she…is she okay, though?”

Norah smiles gently. “Yes. She’s fine. Why don’t you go home for tonight—”

“Norah,” Logan says from behind me, startling both of us before I can dive into more questions about Breezy’s well-being. I don’t know how he managed to pull in, park, and close his car door without us noticing, but he did, and his timing is really starting to make the two of us seem like a package deal—which is not to my advantage.

“Logan, what are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? The same thing I’ve been doing here. Trying to set things right with my brother and sister. Please, let me inside so I can try.”

Norah shakes her head. “It’s not a good idea. Breezy needs to rest, and Bennett doesn’t want you here. I have to respect that. You need to leave until he’s ready to talk to you.”

“And where am I supposed to go exactly?”

“I hear the Red Bridge Inn is really nice. Or hell, maybe Tad here will put you up.”

I scoff. “Not likely.”

Norah sucks her lips into her mouth to block a laugh. “Sounds like the Inn is the place to be.”

I laugh, and she turns her energy on me, pointing in my face. “You’re laughing, but I’m pretty sure I told you to leave too.”

I sigh. “Right. I’ll try again tomorrow.”

Shoving past Logan, I make my way back over the property line to my driveway and consider my options. The house—where I’ll be tempted to stand at the damn window all night trying to get a peek—or my truck, which quite frankly, could take me any number of distracting places even if only for a little while.

The choice is obvious.