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Bodhi glances from Sander to me, and I very discreetly shake my head.
“I’ll be right back,” I say and don’t wait for anyone’s reply as I make my way over to where Sander stands, resting his forearms against the open driver's side door.
“Hey, San. What’s up?” I approach him, shoving my hands in the front pockets of my jeans.
“I texted you and you never responded, so I decided to drive by,” he says, all business.
“Oh,” I brush my hands over my back pocket and come up empty. “I must have left my phone in the house—”
“What is he doing here?” Sander interrupts, looking me dead in the eyes.
“Bodhi?” I question, wondering what his deal is.
“Yes. The race car driver. Is something wrong? I thought everything with the Camaro was taken care of?” he asks, rambling on.
I inwardly curse myself for not making it clear to Sander a long time ago that he and I were only ever going to be friends. He’s acting like a territorial boyfriend right now, and I know it’s my fault, but I’m not in the mood.
“Everything with the Camaro is fine,” I assure him, purposely not answering his question. I really don’t want to get into it with Bodhi and my mom right across the yard.
“Okay, so what’s going on?”
“Why does it matter?” I say, attitude quickly rising to the surface.
He snaps his head back in shock. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me, San. Why does it matter?” I throw my hands out at my sides, and it’s clear to anyone watching that I’m pissed. If he weren’t in his uniform right now, I might consider shoving him back into his car and demanding he leaves. I hate the power he has while wearing that damn badge. Don’t get me wrong, Sander is a great guy, but it’s annoying.
“You don’t know who this guy is, K.”
“And you do?” I snap.
“Better than you, obviously.”
“Just because you can run a background check on someone doesn’t mean you know a damn thing about them,” I shout, pointing my finger in his direction, wishing like hell I could jab it into his chest right about now. The damn Kevlar vest would probably break my finger, though.
Sander stands there, stunned. I haven’t raised my voice to him like that in a long time, and the last time was when Eli first got carted off in a cop car and my best friend swore that there had to be a logical reason for it. I was so angry at him for what felt like him siding with the police. I lately learned that he was only trying to keep me rational, but there isn’t much to rationalize when you know your brother isn’t in the wrong.
“Wow, so it’s gonna be like that?”
“It never had to be, San. But you always come in here all puffed up, ready to investigate. Can’t you just be my friend? For once?” I plead, frustration creasing my features.
“K, I am your friend,” his voice goes soft and soothing, and for a moment I question whether or not this is some calming technique he learned.
“Well, lately it feels an awful lot like you’re a cop who also happens to be my friend.”
I can see his heart start to break, and there is this fraction of a second where I want to reach out and comfort him for old times' sake, but he needs to understand how he’s affecting me, too.
“K, I’m sorry, I—”
Sander’s body goes rigid and all the emotion in his eyes vanishes, and I know that Bodhi must be walking up behind me.
“Hey, your mom sent me over to check on you,” he says, placing his hand on the small of my back and completely avoiding eye contact with Sander.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Lie.
“Okay, we’ll she’s got lunch waiting for you,” he smiles, and only then does he turn to acknowledge Sander. “Oh, hey, sorry, how rude of me.”
