Page 14 of If Love Had A Manual (Skeptically In Love #2)

I wake up to the jab of a pointy teenage elbow in my ribs. Seriously, I’ll need a second bed if she’s going to make surprise visits a habit.

Despite the mild discomfort and the emotional whiplash she tends to bring with her, I’m glad she showed up.

At some point in the morning, we shuffle into the kitchen in matching zombie mode, pajamas wrinkled and hair in messy knots. Sunlight filters lazily through my windows, making my cramped kitchen feel warmer than usual.

“Pancakes?” I suggest, pulling a mixing bowl from the cabinet.

She rubs her eyes. “Only if they have chocolate chips.”

“Demanding much?”

She shrugs, sleepy but smug because she knows she’s going to get her way. “You said you missed me. Prove it with sugar.”

“Touché. ”

Half an hour later, we’re shoveling down enough chocolate chip pancakes to feed a small army. Tess’s mood has drastically improved, though her phone still dominates her attention between bites.

“So,” I venture cautiously, sipping my orange juice. “What’s your plan today? Is Dad going to freak when you stroll back home?”

“He probably hasn’t even noticed I left.”

I want to defend my father out of sheer instinct, but I bite it back. I’ve done it for too long, and she’s old enough to make up her own mind.

“We can’t hang out here all day. I’ll have to bring you home eventually.”

She stuffs the last bite of pancake into her mouth and gives me a noncommittal shrug. “Yeah. Sure.”

I have her with me for today. Everything else? We’ll cross that bridge later.

∞∞∞

After breakfast, Tess and I head to the park. She trails just behind me, scuffing her shoes on the sidewalk and periodically scanning the playground like she’s half-hoping for something more interesting than our quiet stroll.

“How’s school?” I ask.

The blush that rockets across her face tells me everything I need to know.

“Oh my God.” I stop in my tracks and grab her shoulders. “There’s a boy.”

“There’s not.”

“There absolutely is.”

Tess hides her face in her hoodie, but I see the smile fighting its way through. “His name’s Ben. ”

I squint at her. “Ben. That’s a suspiciously innocent name. What’s he done to you?”

She ducks her head lower. “I had my first kiss.”

Silence.

Dead silence.

Internally, I’m spiraling. Kissing? Kissing?! She’s practically a fetus. I flash back to my own first kiss—braces, bad lighting, and a boy named Declan who thought open-mouth meant trying to lick my esophagus. I’ve never fully recovered.

“Oh,” I say calmly, smiling like I’m a well-adjusted adult and not someone currently trying to astral project into a dimension where this conversation isn’t happening. “Cool. So, just kissing, right? No other...activities?”

She groans. “Lena, that’s gross.”

“ Boys are gross.”

“I want to die.”

“I’m just saying! Boys your age are basically golden retrievers with hormones. They’ll hump a throw pillow if you leave them alone long enough.”

She covers her face. “Please stop talking.”

“No, I’m serious. Kiss everyone, if you must. Taste the rainbow. But they keep their hands in their pockets until you have a fully developed frontal lobe.”

“I’m literally never telling you anything ever again.”

I loop my arm around her shoulders, still grinning. “You say that now. Just wait until Ben texts ‘wyd’ at midnight and you need me to decipher whether it’s love or boredom.”

She shoves me, but she’s laughing.

We fall back into step, and for a few blissful seconds, the conversation dies.

Then Tess glances up at me. “How come you’ve never had a boyfriend?”

“What?”

She shrugs, all innocence. “I’ve never met any of your boyfriends.”

“I’ve had boyfriends.” I think back, mentally scrolling through my short list of failed love interests. None of them were worth my time, let alone Tess's.

“That feels like something people say when they definitely haven’t.”

“They were real. You just never met them because they were too busy humping throw pillows.”

She snorts but doesn’t drop it. “Seriously.”

Throwing my hands out with a sigh, I roll my neck like that’ll help me dodge the question. “I don’t know. Timing? Vibes? The crippling fear of emotional intimacy?”

She raises a brow.

“I just…” I glance at her. “There’s never been anyone I wanted you to meet.”

She’s quiet for a second before her voice softens. “You don’t have to protect me, you know.”

I tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I do.”

She lets it sit, and thankfully, doesn’t argue.

Then, because she’s still a teenager and loves to rile me up, she bumps her shoulder against mine and says, “Ben’s a good kisser, by the way.”

“Can he fight?”

“You’re so weird.”

“I’m gonna fight him,” I tell her.

Her mouth cracks with the smallest smile. “I’ll hold your earrings.”

Laughing like children, we turn into the park, and my heart flips .

I spot them immediately.

Rosie’s in the swing, kicking her legs like she’s trying to fly. Wes is behind her, giving her little pushes with a relaxed look on his face I’ve never seen before.

Rosie spots me before he does. She bounces like she’s trying to escape and lets out an ear-piercing shriek to prove it.

Curious as to what all the fuss is about, Wes turns, and the surprise in his eyes quickly melts back into that easy smile.

“Hey,” he calls, a warm note in his voice.

“Hey, yourself.” I jog closer. “Didn’t expect to see you two here.”

He nods toward Rosie, who’s bouncing impatiently in the swing. “Someone had too much energy this morning. We needed a change of scenery, but you scared me off all soft play areas.”

Thank God for that.

Rosie babbles when she reaches for me, demanding immediate attention. I lift her from the swing and into my arms, where she instantly covers me in sticky toddler kisses and gibberish words that make no sense and perfect sense all at once.

“She missed you,” Wes says softly.

I press my cheek against Rosie’s curls before realizing I haven’t introduced Tess. “Wes, this is my sister. Tess, this is Wes.”

“Hi,” she says, voice barely audible.

He offers her a gentle nod. “Nice to meet you.”

She ducks her head shyly.

Oh my God, is she blushing?

My poor little sister.

I know first-hand that his stare isn’t an easy one to stand under .

Rosie squirms in my arms, reaching toward Tess with determined little fingers. Tess hesitates, glancing at me.

“You can hold her. She only bites sometimes.”

Tess laughs, but when she carefully takes Rosie from me, something in her expression softens. Then Rosie snuggles into her shoulder, and Tess completely melts.

Wes’s gaze shifts back to me. “She’s going to lose it again when you leave.”

“She does that?”

“She’s started waiting.”

“Waiting?”

“Yeah, she sits at the front door after you leave. I think she waits for you to come back.”

A lump swells in my throat. “Don’t tell me that.”

He looks like he’s having an allergic reaction when he groans, “Jesus, Lena, don’t cry.”

Tess stifles a chuckle at my side. “You’re such a softie.”

“I’m not,” I manage, blinking rapidly. “I just didn’t know.”

Tess looks between us then. “Where’s Rosie’s mom?”

We both freeze.

“Tess,” I hiss sharply, embarrassment flooding my cheeks.

“What?” She shrugs, genuinely confused. “I just wondered.”

Wes speaks first, quiet but direct. “Rosie’s mom passed away. Her dad, too.”

Her face crumples. “Oh, I—I didn’t know. Sorry.”

He gives her a gentle nod. “It’s alright.”

To fill the awkward silence, I softly clarify, “Wes is Rosie’s uncle. She lives with him now.”

“So, you’re kinda like her dad?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, brows pinched. “Something like that.”

Tess is quiet for a moment, holding Rosie with newfound care. They’re just two girls, both a little lost, motherless in their own way, and finding comfort in one another’s presence.

“You should tell Rosie stories.” I know she’s talking to me, but her eyes haven’t left Rosie’s face.

“Stories?” Wes asks, eyes darting between us.

“Lena always told me stories about our mom,” she explains. “She turned them into fairytales. I don’t remember her, but the stories help. Maybe Rosie would like that too.”

He turns to me, surprise etched in those dark amber eyes. “I didn’t know about your mother.”

I wave him off while I try to smother the ache behind my ribs. “I didn’t say anything.”

He rubs the back of his neck, a shadow of guilt passing over his face. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You couldn’t have known.”

A gentle quiet falls, broken only by Rosie’s murmured babbles.

Wes folds his arms and clears his throat, nodding toward the park exit. “We were headed for ice cream. Want to join?”

Tess’s eyes instantly brighten, teenage apathy vanishing in an instant. “Really? Please, Lena?”

“Dad’s going to have a fit.”

Wes smiles, a conspiratorial warmth in his gaze. “Oh, you’re one of those people.”

I shift on my feet. “What people?”

“People who say no to kids. ”

Now I’m offended. “I am not. I’m practically Mary Poppins.” I throw my hands up, refusing to be the kind of person he’s accusing me of being. “Fine. Ice cream it is. But we’re out of here in an hour, Tess. You’ll be grounded for life if I don’t get you home.”

She fist-pumps the air, startling Rosie into a delighted giggle.

Wes takes Rosie from Tess’s arms before she looks at me, eyebrows wiggling like when she was just a toddler herself. “Race you there, old lady.”

“Old lady? I’m only ten years older than you, you little brat.”

“Exactly.” She tosses a playful glare over her shoulder.

And just like that, we’re off—an unlikely group of four, bonded by loss and quiet understanding, now unified by the irresistible pull of sugar.