My brother-in-law borrowed my brand-new crossover, trashed it like a garbage bin, and refused to cover the detailing costs—then had the nerve to call me that night, yelling, “How dare you?”

“What do you think I’m going to do? Drive it through a wall?”

“No. I think you’ll treat it like something you didn’t spend three years planning to buy.”

“Elle,” Timothy said quietly.

I knew that tone.

It was the one he used when Jake had made a situation uncomfortable and Timothy wanted me to smooth it over.

“What?”

“Don’t make this into a whole thing.”

“I continue reading …