Free More Than Enough (More Than Series, Book 5) by Jay McLean Page B

instructed me to do. Move it in slow circles until the pain becomes too much.
    The pain is already too much.
    Dave: No one’s told me to fuck off in three days. I miss you, you giant ogre of a man.
    With a halfhearted smile, I respond:
    Dylan: Duck off, asshole. Better?
    Dylan: *Fuck.
    Dave: You’re the worst.
    Dylan: Notwgat your mom said last beige.
    Dave: What?
    Dylan: *Norway
    Dylan: *Not.
    Dylan: *What.
    Dave: What?!?!
    Dylan: *Night.
    Dave: Good night, bro.
    Dylan: No.
    Dave: No?
    Dylan: Your mom’s far.
    Dylan: *Gay.
    Dylan: *FAT.
    Dylan: FUCK.
    Dave: What are you typing with? A potato?
    Dylan: Duck you.
    “Hey, Dylan?” Sydney says, her head poking through the garage door. She’s wearing one of Eric’s shirts and nothing else. “Do you have a second?” I don’t know why it bothers me that she’s standing there—a girl I barely know—in the only bit of personal space I own.
    I shut my eyes and nod, giving up on my so-called physical therapy for the moment.
    She steps inside, one bare leg after the other and I look away because she’s not mine to look at. “Sorry,” she says, walking over to me. “I probably should have put some clothes on but I was in a rush.”
    “It’s fine,” I tell her, picking up the screwdriver again. I grip it in my right hand and squeeze a few times, feeling the dull ache filter down my arm. “Did you need something?”
    She stands close to me and leans against the bench. Then she opens her mouth, shuts it, and then does it again. “I feel kind of strange now,” she says, pulling her top down a little. “I just didn’t know what else to do.”
    There’s a desperation in her voice that’s enough to make me look away from my hand and up at her. “What’s up?”
    “Do you… I mean, do you have nightmares… about—” She shakes her head. “Never mind.”
    She starts to leave but I stop her. “About what?”
    She looks at the door and then back to me. “Eric—he’s been having these nightmares, I guess. He tosses and turns and kicks in his sleep. I don’t know what to do. He says he’s fine afterward, but he doesn’t get back to sleep, he just holds me. I don’t know if I should ask him about it or just let him be and I just thought because you and he… I mean, you’ve both been there and you’re his brother so if anyone knows—”
    “I don’t know,” I interrupt. Truth is, I have no idea what he’d want.
    Her gaze drops. “Oh.”
    “It’s not like Eric and I are close, you know?” I say, trying to justify my response. “So I can’t really tell you much about him.”
    “But you’ve been there, right?” She shakes her head again. “I’m sorry. This is probably inappropriate and bad for you to think about.”
    “It’s fine.”
    “I just worry about him. Whatever’s making him wake up in a pool of sweat can’t be good.”
    “You worry about him?” I ask incredulously.
    She tilts her head, her brow bunched in confusion. “Of course I do,” she replies, as if I’m the dumbest person in the world. She rolls her eyes. “Dylan, your brother and I are really good at faking our feelings. I mean, look at us. We’ve known each other a couple weeks and we’ve spent practically every second together. We could be out having sex with different people every night but we choose to have sex with each other.” She laughs a little when I scrunch my face in disgust. “A little too much information?”
    “A little.”
    “I don’t know,” she sings, a slight smile pulling on her lips. “He says I keep him sane and he makes me happy, so why not? Yolo, right?”
    “What the hell is a Yolo?”
    She eyes me sideways. “You Only Live Once. How long were you deployed?”
    I can’t help but laugh. “I’ve always been out of touch, I guess.”
    “So no advice?”
    I look down at the screwdriver in my hand, squeeze it once, and look back at her, thinking about what Eric would say if the roles were reversed. “Just keep letting him hold you when