Slow Grind (Men of Mornington)

Back down the hall, I pick up my suitcase and step into my old bedroom. I’m happily surprised when I see it’s exactly how I left it, with the exception of a larger bed replacing the twin-sized one I remember and a new paint colour on the wall—the neutral grey much different than the candy pink I remember.

I take out my phone and throw myself on the bed. Sighing, I sw

itch it on. In my rush of leaving the airport, I forgot to turn it on when I got off the plane. Almost right away I see I have five messages—four from Nate and one from Jacey. I click on Jacey’s, not in the mood to deal with Nate’s crap right now.

Jacey: Just so you know, I’ve survived the first day of looking after Louie. Hope you’re okay, call me if you need me x

I grin and put my phone down, still not ready to deal with Nate. All I want now is a few hours of sleep so I can feel somewhat human. Climbing off the bed, I strip off my clothes and put my watch on the dressing table. I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror and wince. I’m a mess. My hair is ridiculous, standing up at all angles, and why I thought it was a good idea to put makeup on before a twelve-hour flight—along with a four-hour stopover—I’ll never know. I look like a friggin’ raccoon. No wonder Drew was staring at me. I thought he was checking me out, but more likely he was wondering why the hell I looked like I’d just crawled out from a sewer.

I can’t think about that now. I need to figure out how to help Max, and I can’t do it running on empty. Climbing under the thick, down comforter, I cuddle it up to my neck and wait until I fall asleep.

Just as my exhaustion is about to get the better of me, the bathroom door from Max’s side opens and closes. Tears roll down my cheeks as he expels whatever’s in his stomach and groans in pain. I want so badly to go in there and take care of him like I did when we were younger, but I can’t make myself get up. Instead, I lie there and soak the pillow. From what I remember—and it’s been a while—chemo, the medicine that’s supposed to kill cancer, feels like it’s killing you in the process. We know it’s poison. We know its intended purpose. I just hate that Max has to go through this to have a chance at getting better. It always hits him like a freight train during the whole treatment. You somehow trick your body into believing it’s going to be fine. Then wham! The chemo curse strikes.

A few moments later, Max calls for my mum and she’s quickly by his side. A pang of jealousy hits as I realise he’s not called for me, but I push it aside and listen to their brief conversation.

“I can give you some of the nausea medication the doctor prescribed?” my mother offers.

“I couldn’t keep it down if I wanted to, Mum. Please, just help me clean up this mess before Aubrey wakes up.”

“Don’t worry about it, honey, I’ll take care of it. Go lie down. All this ruckus and she’s going to wake before I get a chance.”

“Thanks for calling her. I didn’t realise how seeing her face would make me feel better.” My heart warms and through the tears, I smile. I’ve never doubted Max loved me—more than himself on most days—but to hear his candid declaration drives home the point that I’ve missed so much, and even on his worst days, he still needs his kid sister.

“I’m just upset you made me wait this long. All those times you told me to let her be, I should have made contact. I missed my daughter,” she says wistfully. My eyes widen. She missed me? The person who couldn’t stand to be within a few feet of me without giving me a nasty glare?

“I know you did, Mum. She’s here now, and she’ll see you’re not the same person you were a decade ago, just like she’s not the same.”

“Do you think she still loves me?” Mum asks a little louder, and I hear the springs on Max’s mattress squeal under his weight. The water starts running in the bathroom.

“I don’t think you ever stop loving your parents. She’s upset and hurt. And you didn’t do much to make her feel welcome after everything that happened. You have a lot of making up to do.”

“I know I do, and I will.”

“You better. You promised.” If this is some kind of death-bed promise and he’s further gone than I’ve been led to believe, I’m going to be pissed.

A few moments later, the water stops running, Max’s side of the bathroom door closes again, and our wing of the house remains quiet until Max’s soft snores fill the air. Knowing he’s safe, comfortable and resting, I’m finally able to get some sleep. Within no time, I drift off to sleep in my old room surrounded by old memories, both good and bad.

Chapter Five

Drew

I push my way back into Max’s room and swoop up my jacket in my arm. I’m trying not to wake him, but I don’t do a very good job. His eyes flutter open, and he looks at me, confused.

“Forgot my jacket,” I explain with a chuckle. I’d gotten halfway home before I’d realised. If my phone wasn’t in the pocket of the damn thing, I would’ve just left it there. “And it’s cold as fuck out there. Speaking of which, what the fuck was your sister thinking, wearing a skirt? Did she get her seasons mixed up?”

“Probably,” Max says, managing a smile. He stifles a yawn and shifts onto his side. He looks even worse than he did five minutes ago if that’s even possible. “In her defence, she did have to pack in a hurry to get out here. Thanks to my mum and her big mouth. Either way, it’s great to see her.”

“I’ll say,” I mutter. I shake my head and laugh, unable to get the image of her in that tiny skirt out of my head. Holy fucking shit, when did that happen? And where the hell have I been? How did I have no idea Max’s little sister is such a fucking angel? I would’ve been hounding him to let me come on all those trips to America. I grin—her image in my head again. Those legs would give Miranda Kerr a run for her money. I chuckle and shake my head. This is fucking crazy.

Glancing to my left, I notice Max watching me strangely.

“Man, no. Just no. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not happening, okay?” he says in a strained voice. I can’t help but smirk because as hard as the guy is trying to be authoritative, he sounds like a little girl begging me not to take away her stuffed toy.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I grin. I reach forward and throw a chip in my mouth, but he continues to scowl at me. “You okay there, Max? Is it that time of the month? Do you need something for the cramping and bloating? I didn’t know you were a chick or something.”

“Or something. I’ll kick your fucking arse,” he grumbles, glaring at me. “You know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about, Drew. My sister. I saw the way you looked at each other.”

I straighten up. She was looking at me? Why does that make me feel so damn good? Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised. Like all of Em’s little friends, I’m pretty sure she had a crush on me back then. It was quite funny when I’d go pick up Em—and sometimes Aubrey—from school after I got my licence. Em suddenly became way more popular, and I was expected to drive dozens of pre-teen girls everywhere.