Page 2 of Devious Love

Dad grins in response then focuses on the TV again. I head to the kitchen, and with my drink in hand, I step out back, soaking in the warmth of the sun. School’s out for summer, so I spend as much time outside as I can.

At the familiar sound of the Ashtons’ screen door creaking, I take a step toward their house, expecting to see Matt headed my way.

Instead, Mia appears. Arms around her middle, she runs across the lawn, still wearing the flowery dress she had on while we played hide-and-seek. She slips between the side fence and my dad’s garage and disappears.

What is she doing here?

For a few moments, I stand near the door, waiting for her to return. I count to ten, and when there’s still no sign of her, I set my glass on the small table on the patio and go in search of her.

The late afternoon air smells like grass and motor oil. Usually, this familiar mix of scents brings me comfort, but right now, my chest feels tight.

I round the corner of the garage, and there she is—curled up with her back against the exterior wall, knees pulled up. She stares straight ahead, not blinking, not smiling. She’s not crying either. I’ve noticed that about her. No matter what her mom says or does, Mia never cries. It kind of weirds me out, because even Matt and I cry sometimes, when we’re hurt. But also…I think it’s kind of cool.

I silently ease onto the ground beside her.

Mia lifts her head a little. “I thought you were playing with Matt.”

“No. I went home.” I glance at her, taking in her dry cheeks and vacant eyes. “We didn’t feel like playing anymore.”

“Okay.” She diverts her attention to her feet.

My heart aches at the memory of the incident in the living room, urging me to let her know I’m on her side, that her mom’s reaction was unfair. “It wasn’t your fault.”

She presses her lips together. “Doesn’t matter.”

My stomach gets tight in a way that makes me want to double over. “Still sucks.”

She shrugs.

“My dad is never like that with me,” I mutter. “Even when I deserve it.”

Mia’s hair is in a ponytail, like always. Her mom makes her wear it like that, pulled back tight, but up close, I can’t help but notice all the strands that have escaped to frame her face. She looks so small like this.

“Your dad’s cool too,” I say.

The tiniest smile plays on her lips. “Daddy’s the best.”

I smile in return. She always lights up when Luke comes home, clinging to his side, demanding his attention. She loves her dad to the moon and back, that’s for sure.

“Your dad is fair,” I tell her. “Way more than your mom.”

Her smile falls, and she pulls her legs tighter to her chest.

“You didn’t deserve to be sent to your room. You know that, right?”

Rather than nod, she looks at me, and that smile returns. “You smell like motor oil,” she says softly.

I blink. “What?”

“You always smell like that after you help your dad in the garage. It’s cool.”

“You think I’m cool?” I tease.

“Yourdadis cool,” she teases back. Then, she sighs. “You have a great dad.”

“I know.”

Silence settles between us. It’s a comfortable silence, sitting here beside her. In this moment, she’s not just my best friend’s little sister.