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This is about Tess.
If I had my brother’s brain, I’d be able to look back over every interaction I’ve ever witnessed between the two of them with perfect clarity. I’d be able to see what I missed.
But there’s only one I remember clearly.
The day of her mother’s funeral. The way he stood over her, hands shoved into the pockets of one of Con’s old suits. Chin tipped down so he can look at her, his mouth moving in an earnest murmur.
That’s the memory of them that pops into my head when I think of them together.
But it’s enough.
It tells me everything I need to know.
The light turns green. He doesn’t move. “Tess is my business,” he says, pretty much confirming my suspicions. “She’s a good girl. She deserves better than—”
I finally look at him. “Me.” I finish it for him, pushing a smirk on to my face even though saying it makes me feel sick. “You’re right, Tess does deserve better than me—a lot better. But from where I’m sitting, better sure as fuck isn’t you, so if I were you, I’d shut my fucking mouth.”
He doesn’t answer me. I watch his hands work around the steering wheel. Gripping and flexing, like he’s struggling as much as I am. Like he’s holding on to is the only thing keeping him from launching himself across the car and try to tear out my throat.
“Light’s green,” I say, practically daring him to do it. “We gonna go or what?”
Like I said, Ryan isn’t a bitch but he isn’t stupid either. He knows what I’m saying. He also knows how things will go if he makes a move.
I’m just not sure he cares.
Just when I think things are about to get bloody, he punches the gas and shoots through the intersection on a yellow.