I hadn’t realized how much I was dreading this conversation until I was right in front of it.
“I think I will have some coffee after all.” I walk over to the
counter, to the coffee machine that looks like it came with launch codes. Rhyson waits patiently, but his curiosity crackles in the kitchen while he takes the occasional bite. Once I’m settled beside him again with a cup of coffee I don’t want or need, I turn to face him.
“Do you remember the book Grip couldn’t stop talking about this summer?”
Rhyson snorts and cocks one dark brow.
“It was unavoidable.” He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. “Viper or Sickness or—”
“Virus, by a guy named Israel Hammond.”
“Right.” Rhyson’s face animates. “When I went to Marlon’s show in Paris, he quoted like half a chapter to me back at the hotel.”
“That sounds right.” I smile, my heart swelling a little with pride in Grip’s passion, his convictions. “He says it was life-changing.”
“That’s our guy.” Rhyson chuckles, affection for Grip coloring his smile. “Somebody’s gotta change the world.”
“Yeah, well . . .” I bite my lip, training my eyes on the swirling pattern in the marble countertop. “Dr. Hammond is guest lecturing at NYU this semester.”
It gets quiet enough for me to hear the hum of the shiny appliances in the kitchen.
“He’s going to New York then?” I feel Rhyson’s eyes on my face but don’t look up to meet them quite yet.
“Yeah,” I answer before biting the bullet and looking up to meet his gaze. “And I’m going with him.”
Rhyson nods slowly, turning his mouth down at the corners. “Never thought I’d see my little sister dropping everything to follow some man across the country.”
I’m too on edge to detect the teasing in his voice, so I’m already poised for battle, mouth locked and loaded with ammo, only to find him laughing at me.
“Bastard,” I mutter, fighting a smile.
“I’m not sure our mother would appreciate that.”
Rhyson’s smile holds, but his face ices over the way it always does when my mother comes up. My relationship with her isn’t nearly as complex and convoluted as his, and overall, on a scale of one to fucked up, my relationship with her has always been pretty fucked up. That said, I’ll never forget how she intervened to get me out of the mess with Parker. I’ll always remember those moments of naked vulnerability she and I shared that day we took him down. Things have continued to slowly thaw between us, even though we’re still not besties. It takes effort and patience and forgiveness—three things Rhyson has never had for our mother.
“You cut Dad some slack, Rhys,” I say, reminding him of the progress he and our father have made over the last few years.
“Maybe you could cut her some, too.”
“Maybe you could mind your own damn business.” He shifts his cool stare over my shoulder.
I just keep looking at him because he knows that I, unlike half the people in this town, am not scared of him and can give as good as I get. He also realizes that I know how deeply our mother injured him. She injured me, too. They all did, but I kept on fighting to have them in my life. As hard as it’s been, it’s also been worth it.
“Bris, I’m sorry.” Rhyson runs an agitated hand through his already rumpled hair. “I . . . can we just talk about what you came here to talk about and leave her out of it?”
“Sure.” I lick my lips and set aside my fix-it reflex, that part of me that wants to get to the bottom of everything and make it work properly. Our family has never worked properly, so why I—who spent half my life on a therapist’s couch—think I can fix us, I have no idea, but I never stop trying.
“So you want to go with Marlon to New York, huh?” Rhyson forces a smile, deliberately shifting us to safer ground.
“Yeah.” My smile comes more naturally just because he said Grip’s name. There are two things absolutely right in my life: my career and my man. I would prefer not to ruin one for the other, but if Rhyson forces me to choose, I have every confidence I can find another way to make a living—though I know it won’t come to that.
First of all, I’m his sister.
Second of all, he needs me too badly. I’ve become indispensable. That, even beyond the blood and DNA we share, is my insurance policy.
“Look, I know there’s a lot going on with Prodigy,” I begin, prepared to build my case for why I could work from the moon as long as I have Wi-Fi.