“That it is.” His eyes flick to the clock and back to me. “That was an exceptionally short run, and you’re not really sweating.”
“How do you know how long I’ve been gone?”
“I heard you when you left, less than half an hour ago.” He leans back in his chair, crossing one impossibly long leg over the other. He’s a year younger than me, but his full-sleeve tattoo, man bun, and beard make him look a lot older. “And now you’re back and looking all . . . angry. What’s the deal?”
“There is no deal.”
“If you say so.” He makes ahmmsound and sips his coffee.
I give him my back and go in search of my favorite coffee mug. It’s not in the cupboard, though, which means it’s in the dishwasher. I check that, too, but it hasn’t been run yet, so I go back to the cupboard and pick my second-favorite mug. It used to be my mom’s, but I stole it. It readsMrs. Waters, but the letters are made of penises. She doesn’t know I have it, and I always keep it in the back of the cupboard, so they don’t find it when they come visit.
I pour myself a cup of coffee, add enough sugar to cut the bitterness and some cream to turn it tan, and set it on the table. Then I go back and grab two bowls, the gallon of milk that’s half-empty, and three different boxes of cereal. I don’t bother with the Lucky Charms since Lavender’s hands have been in every single freaking box. She picks out all the fucking marshmallows. It drives me up the damn wall, especially since there are several boxes of cereal marshmallows sitting on the shelf right next to them.
I slide a bowl in front of BJ and keep the slightly bigger one for myself. Most of the time I make myself a real breakfast—eggs, bacon, whole grain toast, that kind of thing. But not today. Still, I start with the healthier cereal option. This morning I’m going with Frosted Mini-Wheats as course number one. I dump half the box into my bowl and pour milk over it, letting it sit fora minute before I dig in. Mini-Wheats are a particular favorite because they do such a good job of soaking up the milk.
“How are you handling things?” BJ asks conversationally, bypassing healthy options in lieu of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.
“Handling what things?” I shovel Mini-Wheats into my mouth.
He points to the ceiling.
I shrug.
“So, not well, then.”
BJ doesn’t pour any milk on his cereal. Instead, he picks at it like it’s a bowl of chips.
“There’s nothing to handle. They’re together, like we all knew they would be eventually.”
“There’s a significant difference between knowing it’s going to happen and it actually happening, though. And let’s be real, for a while there it looked a lot like Kody was going to fuck things up permanently.”
I let my spoon rest on top of my floating Mini-Wheats and take my hat off, running my hands through my hair and lacing my fingers behind my neck. “That whole thong situation was . . .”
“Very OOC for Lavender, but also badass.” BJ strokes his beard and smiles.
I frown. “OOC?”
“Out of character.”
“Oh yeah, for sure it was.” I wasn’t there to witness what happened, but I saw the pictures circulating after the fact. Kody threw Lavender over his shoulder like all his brain cells had died and he’d turned into a caveman. “Never in my life did I think I’d see Lavender in a thong bikini.”
“She’s good at making a statement when she needs to,” BJ says, sifting through his cereal bowl.
For what, I have no idea.
“Agreed. Better than I realized, maybe.”
“She’s always had her own way of doing things.” He pops another piece of cereal in his mouth. “It’s like her star has finally started to shine. It’s good. But it can’t be easy for you.”
“How so?” Having Lavender move in here was my idea.
BJ steeples his fingers and taps them against his lips. “Your friendship with Kody has always been . . . tricky.”
“You mean because he’s always been in love with my sister?” I don’t mean for those words to come out with bite. Do I want my sister and my best friend to be happy together? Absolutely. But it digs at sore places.
BJ shakes his head. “It’s more than just love, though. Those two.” He takes a moment to think before he speaks, which is BJ’s way of having conversations. Sometimes it takes an hour to get to the point, but most of the time, by the end, the picture is a lot clearer than when we started. “They’re soul mates. They can’t help but be drawn to each other. And Kody, man, he tortured himself for years over her.”
“Because of the carnival,” I mutter.