Free Deep Blue (Blue Series) by Jules Barnard Page B

Tahoe, but Carson City has lower living costs. “I will, I promise. I’ve been getting settled with my job and all, but I’ll come out as soon as I can.”
    “Well, don’t take too long, or you’ll be leaving again.”
    For grad school. How could I forget?
    “So, what do you think?” he asks.
    “About what?” Tyler doesn’t know about my reservations over school. I’m avoiding thinking about them, but they’re fixed in my subconscious.
    “Dude, what’s up with you? About me driving out.”
    “Oh. I already said I want you to come.”
    “Cool. I’ll be there in a couple of hours. Everything all right?”
    I wouldn’t call my brother the most perceptive male, but he can be at inopportune times. “Yeah, fine.”
    And it will be. Now that things are officially over with Eric, I’ll eventually move on. It’s everything else that has me screwed up. At some point I’ll have to address school. Just not now.
    Two hours later, Tyler walks in the door and drops his duffel on the dark brown wall-to-wall carpet of our rental house. We picked this place for its proximity to the lake, but it’s the size of a dog kennel and the furnishings look like something from a seventies sitcom.
    Tyler lifts his brows wearily. “Where do you want me?” He peeks inside the single bedroom. “I don’t mind spooning with Gen, but you snore.”
    “I do not snore!” I punch him in the arm and he grins. “You can sleep in the loft.” We both tip our heads back to view the alcove above the kitchen.
    We have a single bedroom, but there’s a small loft up there with a sketchy pull-down ladder. Neither Gen nor I wanted to risk our lives to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, so we share the queen downstairs.
    “Leave your stuff here, there’s not much space up there.”
    His gaze is dubious. “Is there a bed?”
    “There’s a full mattress on the floor. You’ll be fine.”
    Tyler digs into his duffel, already spilling shit across our living room floor.
    “Tyler, our place is small. Rein in the clutter.”
    He bites into the PowerBar he unearthed from his crusty bag and scratches his flat belly. “Can’t. Not my nature.”
    This argument’s a losing battle. He’s totally right and sometimes I wonder how he manages to attract as many women as he does. Physically, I suppose he’s good looking. His hair is wavy and a little longish and hipster, especially when paired with his dark reading glasses. I’m not going to call the color red , because he’d kill me and it’s not totally accurate. Let’s call it chestnut —a medium brown with red highlights. Lots of red highlights. Neither of us are carrot tops like our mother. I am forever grateful for our father’s plain brown hair.
    Tyler and I both have pale blue eyes, and that’s probably our most redeeming physical quality. I often get complimented for mine by the opposite sex. I assume he does too. Add to that a six-foot-two athletic build, and I suppose some women might find him attractive, if you look past his slovenly ways, flash temper, and myriad other annoying habits I’ve had to live with all my life. As a brother, though, he’s protective, funny, and loyal.
    Over the next couple of days, Tyler and I hit our favorite food spots and he visits me at the casino. He brought his mountain bike, so when I’m sleeping in the a.m. after working late, he entertains himself on the trails with a buddy still living in town.
    Having Tyler around has been good for my morale. I’m feeling sorry for myself and Tyler keeps me distracted. He has no patience for mopers and is highly vocal about it—usually in the form of an insult that pisses me off and snaps me from my depression.
    The weekend’s almost here and I’m working tonight, but Tyler has dropped in for a visit. He’s gambling at my table and I’m kicking his ass, which is sweet music because he always beat me at cards growing up.
    “Damn, Cali, when did you become a shark?”
    I’m trying to act