Toby:Naw, man, sounds like the screw is on you. And it’s about damn time.
He shook his head and rattled back a text.
Tyler:It’s nothing. Long on story, short on time.
He began to shove the cell back into his pocket and grabbed his cut-off T, when Toby dinged a message back. Of course he should have realized trying to play off a girl as “nothing” would only make his little bro double down.
Toby:Same long story as the tornado? The one that Thad says ravaged Gram and Gramps’s whole farm but my big brother says is no big deal?
Tyler exhaled. Toby was irritated with him, and perhaps, rightfully so. He rubbed the back of his neck.
Tyler:I didn’t want you to worry. Ain’t much you can do about it. It’s my problem.
Toby:Bull. Those were my grandparents, too. I’d help if you’d let me. So would Trav. He’s actually reached out to you, which is a miracle considering getting him to talk is like pulling teeth.
Another text followed.
Toby:That oughta tell you how worried we were.
Tyler said nothing. He owed them something, but right now, as he glanced around the carnage and all the things still needing to be done, wasn’t the time to figure out how to describe everything that was damaged. He began to jam the cell back into his pocket—
Toby:Do my nephews like your girl? She pretty? You bringing her to Trav’s wedding?
“Wedding?” Toby was really leaping to conclusions, but now that Tobes was blissfully in love, it was no surprise he expected everyone to be. He exhaled again. Toby would ask about what Heather looked like before asking if she had a brain cell. God was she pretty. And not his girl. And free, and charismatic, and all the things he wasn’t. His thumbs flew over the keys to end this once and for all. He was the one who worried about his brothers. Not the other way around. That’s the way Pops had wanted it.
Tyler:Yeah, she’s pretty, no, she ain’t my girlfriend, or my plus-one. Just a hookup.
Toby:One and done?
Tyler chewed his cheek. Hesitated. Crap, when did he ever hesitate? And why did he feel like there was judgment in this text? His thumbs tapped over his screen, knowing he was going to regret this.
Tyler:Not exactly.
He shook his head, cursed under his breath. He’d just opened a floodgate. A speech bubble was wavering, wavering.
Toby:You double-dipping, Mr. Rules? Doesn’t that, like, break rule number nine or something?
He huffed. Of course Toby would be crass. And make fun of him. It was all Toby’s fault he’d even been in that bar eight years ago, drunk and writing out relationship-hating rules in the wake of Isabella’s divorce.
Toby:My nephews meet her yet?
Hell no. The was the one thing in all this that Tyler had been smart on. She’d be gone by the time they got back.
Tyler:No. They’re at camp. Nothing going on.
He hit send. A speech ellipsis began to waver immediately and popped up a second later. He groaned. Eyed his truck and all the work he still had to do.
Toby:That ain’t what Thad’s been saying.
Jeezus, why were these two busybodies even talking about him and Heather? It was none of their business.
Tyler:Thaddeus’s stirring the pot like you do. Y’all are worse than biddies at a Bible study.
Toby:Funny. If you like her, why wouldn’t you want Seth and Stevie to meet her?
Irritation spiked at the inquisition. His thumbs tapped furiously.
Tyler:I ain’t looking to replace Isabella. Leave it.