“I’m not saying I know what you’re going—”
I hold up my hand. “No, if you’re smart you aren’t, because trust me you have no clue what I’m dealing with. And for your information, I go back to work after this weekend.”
He irritates me like a fresh batch of poison ivy. I know that he’s trying to be helpful in his completely over the top way, but I can’t handle his crap right now. The boy has led a charmed life. He has good looks, a talent he didn’t have to work for, and all the privileges afforded the first born and only male. A freelance travel writer, Max tours the world on someone else’s dime and makes his own schedule. I’m not knocking him; he took his skill for writing and morphed it into a career that he loves, and I applaud him for that that.
But in all that constant on the go, and lack of anchoring responsibilities, he often forgets what life is like for those of us left behind with things like mortgages, friends, families, bills, and a more traditional gig closer to nine to five hours that requires adulting and peopling. He gets to fly solo, and charm the locals while he eats in tiny hidden spots and sips on wine with his camera in hand.
“Good. You’ve been cooped up here long enough.” He plops down on the couch.
“Did you come here just to bust my chops or is there a reason?”
“Can’t a big brother check on his sister?”
“Not when he’s hassling her. I’m fine, by the way, thanks for asking.”
He flashes me a pearly white grin, and I roll my eyes. Not working on me today.
“I wanted to rattle your cage a bit.”
“Why in the hell would you want to do that?” I sneer.
“To make sure you’re still in there. You haven’t been yourself lately, and yes I completely understand why, but it worried me.”
The truth behind his actions cools the flames fueling my anger.
“You could’ve lead with that.”
“Not my style. Besides, I wanted to see your response.”
“And what’s the verdict, judge?” I ask.
“My Quinn is still in there. She’s suppressed as hell, though. I know I seem like an asshole, but the longer you let this go, the more it becomes your new norm. You’ve been in the house more often than not, and I know you aren’t keeping in touch with me the way you used to, so I can only assume it’s the same for others.”
Because I don’t want to have lovely little chats like this.
“I just don’t feel up to it. I think I’m allowed some time to process.”
“It’s been almost a month,” Max says.
“Which is the blink of an eye.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him the paranoia keeps me in on days I normally would be out and about, and has kept my sleep in small, stolen bunches.
“Don’t get defensive, sis. I’m only being real.”
“No, you’re a presumptuous prick. I’m dealing, I’m healing, and I’m functioning just fine. Unlike Ollie, my wounds aren’t on the outside. Believe me, knowing someone risked their life for you is a powerful thing that takes time to digest.”
“Ollie? Are you still in contact with that guy?”
“Yes. I probably will be for the rest of my life.”
“What do you even know about him?” Max asks as he angles his body toward me.
“Now who’s defensive?” I ask with a smirk.
His brow furrows and his thick brows draw down over the deep-set, dark brown eyes so like our father’s. His hair is cut close to his head in a fade that hides his natural curl pattern, and his skin is a rich blend of our mother’s mahogany tone and our father’s chestnut brown. It’s a blemish free skin I’d wanted to kill him for in high school when I went through my breakouts. I was a late-blooming flower. A fact I’m grateful for now. I can see now how it freed me up to focus on other things. But, back then it’d been heartbreaking.
“It’s my job. I’ve never heard you mention him before.”
“I told you, I know him through Efia. I was on a gig. It’s why his sacrifice is so amazing. I didn’t know him from Adam.”