My BIL Borrowed My Brand-New Crossover, Turned It Into a Dumpster, and Refused to Pay for Detailing – That Evening, He Called Me Screaming, 'How Dare You?'
"I wanted it to be...special."
"You don't take care of your own car, Jake," I snapped.
"That's different."
"How?"
"It's mine."
I stared at him.
"That's exactly my point."
"It's mine."
Jake's smile tightened.
"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 do you think I'm going to do? Drive it through a wall?"
"What?"
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"Don't make this into a whole thing."
"I said no. Jake is the one refusing to hear it."
Jake sighed. "We're family."
"That doesn't make my car yours."
Timothy rubbed the back of his neck. "We borrowed each other's stuff in college."
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