Love Next Door (Lakeside #1) by Helena Hunting

I scan his room and finally find his phone, lying on the floor, half under his bed. I pick it up and hit the screen. He has a ridiculous number of missed calls and messages, many of them from the friends we’ve tried to call tonight.

I punch in the number one four times in a row and smile briefly at his predictability before I start scanning the most recent messages. The more I see, the more worried I become, because that paranoia that I’ve noticed is in full effect in his messages with his friends. And they’ve been reaching out while he’s been staying quiet, saying he can’t message because everyone is watching him.

A knock at the front door has me dropping the phone on the bed and rushing back out to the living room. I prepare myself for the worst-case scenario, like the sheriff coming to tell us he’s in jail or, worse, that they’ve found his body.

I throw the door open and suck in a relieved, albeit confused breath when it’s not the sheriff at the door, but Van and my brother.

Billy’s shoulders are curled forward, his head down, and his teeth chattering. It’s not particularly cold, but the nights are cooler these days, and the water temperature is dropping along with it.

“Where the hell have you been? We’ve been worried sick! Why are you both wet?” I shoot an accusatory glare at Van.

“Billy was down at the lake, going for a swim.”

“What in the world would possess you to go for a swim at night with a freaking cast on? It’s not even the waterproof kind! You could’ve drowned! Mom!” I shout over my shoulder. “Grab me some towels.” I usher my brother inside. “Jeez, you’re freezing.”

“I’m not that cold.” His teeth clack together.

“Really? Because the teeth chattering tells a different story.”

Mom appears with a single towel. “Oh!” She glances between Van and Billy. “What happened?” She rushes over and drapes the towel around Billy’s shoulders.

Van is wet from the waist down, and shoeless. “Did you go in after him?”

“Yeah.” He nods once, and another wave of goose bumps pebbles his skin.

“I’ll go get more towels.” I leave Van dripping in the middle of the kitchen and grab a stack from the linen closet.

Mom flips into hyperdrive and runs to the laundry room, gathering fresh dry clothes. It occurs to me that Van could go back to his house and change, but he graciously accepts the sweats and T-shirt and heads down the hall to the bathroom.

My parents help Billy to their bathroom, since Van is in the one my brother would typically use. I’m hopeful it’s not completely disgusting. I grab a stack of clean clothes from the top of the dryer and follow them inside.

Billy grumbles about being fine, but my dad ignores him and takes the fresh clothes. Based on the state of his cast, he’ll need to have it replaced. I leave my parents to manage him like a grumpy oversize toddler and return to the kitchen. Needing to do something with my hands, I put on the kettle and then take out the double boiler so I can make some hot chocolate. Van opens the bathroom door and steps out into the living room. The sweats are my brother’s. They’re way too long, but Van’s thighs are thicker and his waist isn’t nearly as narrow. They’re stretched tight, and so is the shirt. His hands are strategically clasped in front of him, covering his junk.

I’d think it was cute if I wasn’t so pissed off at him.

“Can I make you some tea or hot chocolate?” I don’t want to be nice to him right now, but considering he saved my brother from potentially drowning, I feel compelled to at least make him a warm drink.

“Hot chocolate would be great, thanks. Where’s Billy?” Van crosses his arms over his chest, not defensively, more to warm himself up, or at least that’s my impression, based on the way he fights another shiver.

“My parents are getting him warm clothes. If you’re still cold, there are blankets in the living room.” I motion to the couch on the other side of the open-concept room. The kitchen, dining room, and living room are all one big space. I shouldn’t be embarrassed by my family’s home. It’s modest and quaint and a mishmash of other people’s secondhand things, but it’s where I grew up and holds mostly fond memories. Still, I’m self-conscious having him in here, which is ridiculous, considering my current living arrangement is a trailer and he’s now the owner of Bee’s semi-hoarder-style cottage.

“I’m okay. I wasn’t in for very long. I’m sorry about what happened earlier and what I said. I just . . . I saw you with my brother, and then he called and told me he was contesting the will and that you were going to help him declare Bee as incompetent. It was one more thing on top of all the other stuff I’m dealing with, and I overreacted.”

“So you took him at his word rather than asking me my side?” I set the kettle on the stove, happy I have something other than Van to focus my attention on.

“I thought you would tell me, but then you acted like everything was fine. What was I supposed to think?” His voice is softer now, holding none of the accusation it had earlier.

I reduce the heat on the burner and turn to face him, seeing his point, even if it still hurts that he assumed the worst. “I called Bernie as soon as your brother left, but I didn’t have any answers. And honestly, look at what’s happening right now in this house. Since I’ve been home, I’ve been trying to tell my parents that there’s more going on with Billy than they’re willing to admit, and tonight he almost drowns. And probably would have if you hadn’t been there. I was worried that you wouldn’t see what I saw, or believe that your brother could do something like that. Or maybe wouldn’t want to.” The end of my nose tingles, and I pinch the bridge as a distraction, aware I’m on the verge of tears. Which I hate. “Maybe I should have said something right away, but I couldn’t predict what your reaction was going to be. People don’t always want to see the truth, Van, even when it’s standing right in front of them. I’ve been the one trying to open people’s eyes in this house, and it’s exhausting. I was trying to protect you, not hurt you.”