Free A Toast to the Good Times by Liz Reinhardt, Steph Campbell Page B

been jumping in and out of my bed for years? They haven’t been doing me any good either.
    I’d say I need to take a break from girls in general, but that’s sort of impossible for me.
    Toni’s car slows in front of my parents’ house. Creepy Santa shines bright from the upstairs window, but the rest of the house is pitch black.
    “Thanks.” Not enough, definitely lame, but all I can think to say that isn’t pushing my luck or ruining things in a new and fresh way.
    She presses her lips together and gives me this weird, tight smile. “You’re welcome. I hope...I hope you take what I said to heart.”
    My hand is on the door handle. “So, tell me who he was.” She looks at me, her eyes narrowed with confusion. “Your lifesaver. The guy who swooped in to help you after I dicked you over like an asshole.”
    There’s that sweet blush again.
    “None of your business, Landry.” But she’s smiling in a way that makes me instantly hate whoever he is, especially because he’s obviously a smarter, better man than I am.
    But I’m trying to take a cue from Toni and not be such a reprehensible douchebag all my life. “Alright. I can take a really, really obvious hint. Sometimes. Maybe I’ll see you around before I head back to Boston and you get all Euro-awesome.”
    She drums her fingers on the steering wheel. “I think we might. I’m helping your parents get their books in order before I head out. I think your dad’s been having a pretty hard time with the bar.”
    I lean my forehead on the icy window glass and let my breath make a huge fogged ring. “Yeah.”
    “Feeling guilty over leaving?” Her voice is soft.
    “Yeah.”
    “Well, you should.” There’s a definite bite to her words. “What were you thinking, Landry? Or, I guess, you weren’t thinking.” She clamps off the sentence before she can add the as usual I know she wants to tack on.
    “I’ll fix it.”
    I feel weird saying that because I don’t know how to fix my own shit, let alone my dad’s, and I had no plans to fix anything for anyone until those words popped out of my mouth, probably mostly influenced by my sickening overtiredness and the deep need to make Toni forgive my crazy asshole behavior and like me again, at least a little.
    But she turns those eyes on me and her features are all softened like she’s looking at some returning hero instead of me, Landry Murphy, resident fuck up.
    “I know you will.”
    I lean over and kiss her at the place right on the side of her lips, half-regretting I lost permission to do more through my own jerkoff behavior. But I’m glad, too, because Toni as a friend is doing good things to my mostly shit present, and I know that’s worth more than a few memory-inspired rolls in the hay.
    Not that I’d actually regret getting her in my bed, even as a temporary thing. I just get that it’s better if I don’t.
    Sadly.
    I watch her car pull away, let myself in through the always loose basement window like I’m some sad high - schooler sneaking around, and crash on the futon bed.

 
     
    Chapter 7
     
    The sound I awake to is familiar, but I still pause and try to place where I am for a minute. I blink until the fog clears from my eyes and my brain, though it doesn’t do much for the crick in my neck. The futon was never all that comfortable.
    My brother, Henry, is in the corner of the room, tossing out swear words at the washing machine that’s thumping against the floor because the dumbass needs to redistribute the clothes.
    “You need to open the lid and move the shit inside, douchebag,” I groan. “Yelling at an appliance will never fix the problem. Any problem.”
    He flips the lid up to stop the lurching and cranes his neck around the corner to look at me with shock all over his face, and I realize I’ve missed this cocky little bastard.
    I also feel the old-man jab of melancholy when I realize that he’s got scruff, isn’t the size of a toothpick, and looks more like someone I’d