He pushed away from the table so hard that the chair screeched against the floor, unexplained rage twisting his expression into something raw. “Forget it. Do whatever you want.”
Before she could react—before she could even form words—he stormed down the hall and slammed his bedroom door. The sound rattled the picture frames on the wall.
Tess stood there, one hand pressed to her chest, her pulse hammering. Humiliation, hurt, and anger tangled in her throat. Her face burned.
What the hell is going on with him?
After a moment, her brain registered that the phone had stopped ringing. She picked it up with shaking fingers and stepped onto the back porch. The screen door creaked behind her, the evening breeze brushing against her heated skin.
The ocean’s faint roar usually calmed her, but not tonight.
She hit “Call Back.”
Brian answered quickly, voice warm with concern. “Hey. Everything alright?”
Glancing over her shoulder at the closed door, she swallowed hard. “It’s Andy. He just... he said some horrible things. I don’t know what’s gotten into him today.”
“What did he say?”
“He’s upset about something—irritable—but wouldn’t tell me what. When you called, he snapped and asked if we were sleeping together.” Heat rushed up her neck again. “And he said it like I’d done something wrong.”
Brian exhaled slowly, thoughtfully. She could almost picture him rubbing the bridge of his nose, choosing his words. “Tess, he’s probably overwhelmed. When changes are made without their input, teens can lash out when they don’t know how to express their feelings.”
“It felt personal,” she whispered, sinking onto the porch swing. “Like he resents me. Or thinks I’m choosing you over him.”
“I doubt that’s what he meant.” His tone was steady, anchoring. “He’s scared of something. Maybe not us. Maybe something else. But it’s not you. He loves you—that’s obvious to anyone.”
She pressed her fingertips to her eyes. “I don’t know how to help him if he won’t talk to me.”
“You will, sweetheart. Give him a little space. Then try again. You’ll eventually get through to him.”
His confidence soothed her more than she expected. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
She let out a soft, strained laugh. “You’re annoyingly good at calming me down.”
“That’s my charm.” The humor in his tone drained a little of the tension coursing through her. She smiled despite herself. After a few more minutes of chatting, she was centered enough to end the call. She stood, squared her shoulders, and went inside.
Andy’s bedroom door was still closed, and she knocked softly. “Andy? Can I come in?”
He didn’t answer.
She eased the door open.
He was at his desk, hunched over his computer, his face tinted blue by the monitor. His eyes flickered toward her, guilt flashing before he schooled it into indifference. He slammed a window closed faster than she could identify it, but at least she’d seen enough to know it hadn’t been porn.
“What?” he asked flatly.
She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her legs close like she used to when she’d read him bedtime stories when they were younger. “We need to talk.”
He rolled his eyes—but turned in his chair to face her.
“Tess, I’m sorry,” he muttered, words stiff, as they scraped on the way out.
She inhaled slowly. “I know you’re upset about something. But what you said hurt.”
“I know.”