My stomach clamps down around my eggs and pancakes as I realize I’ll have the chance to start making things right with her sooner than I expected.
Surely, it won’t be that hard. Derrick is a hothead and a control freak, but he’s also been my best friend since we were sixteen years old. And none of us are kids anymore.
Once I give him some constructive feedback about adult sibling relationships, he’ll see that I’m right. After all, it’s not like I don’t know what it’s like to be a protective big brother—I have seven younger brothers and sisters, and I’d move heaven and earth to help any one of them—but only if they ask me to.
That’s the piece of the puzzle that Derrick’s missing. Evie has to ask him for his help and advice, otherwise he’s overstepping.
“Evie, open the door,” Derrick shouts again. “Or somebody open it. I need to make sure my sister is all right.”
“See, he’s just worried about you,” Jess whispers to Evie as she shoves her chair back. “It’ll be fine. But I’m going to wait this out in my room with my noise-cancelling headphones on because conflict is scary, and Derrick is loud.”
A beat later, Jess has vanished, and Cameron is quickly gathering up the now empty dishes. “I’ll head into my room, too. Give you some privacy.”
“Well, I’m not going to my room,” Harlow says, propping her hands on her hips as she glares at the door. “I’m going to tell Satan to get the hell off our stoop and come back when he learns how to use his inside voice.”
“No, I’ll talk to him,” Evie says, rising unsteadily to her feet. “Putting it off will only make things worse. But I’ll take him to a coffee shop or something. You shouldn’t have to hide in your rooms all night because I made a dumb mistake and my brother is flipping out about it.”
Harlow starts to protest, but Cameron shoots her a hard look and nods toward the other side of the apartment, making me think that staying out of the Olsen family drama is something they’ve talked about before.
Her fingers clench and unclench at her sides before she finally says in a rush of breath, “Fine, I’ll go to my room, but call me if you need me, Evie, and I’ll be there in a hot second, ready to hand Derrick his ass.”
Evie’s lips twitch but a smile doesn’t form. “Okay. Thanks.” She lifts crossed fingers into the air. “Wish me luck.”
Harlow and Cameron pull their own vanishing act, but I don’t have a room to disappear to and I wouldn’t go there even if I did. I’m not just an innocent bystander in this family drama; I’ve been a contributor to the dysfunction by turning a blind eye to it for far too long.
But that stops now.
I’m right behind Evie as she moves past the kitchen into the entryway where the roommates’ jackets are hung neatly on hooks with their shoes lined up beneath. She wipes her hands on her pajama pants, pulling in a deep breath as she reaches for the deadbolt.
“Don’t worry,” I murmur softly. “You’ve got this.”
She jumps several inches in the air and jerks a quick glance over her shoulder. “Oh my God,” she says. “You scared me. I had no idea you were there.”
“Who’s there?” Derrick demands—loudly—from outside. “If you have a guy in there attending to your ‘urges,’ tell him to get his clothes on right now. Before I kick his ass out onto the street buck naked and covered in boot marks.” His fist hits the door again, making it rattle on its hinges. “You hear that, asshole? You think it’s okay to take advantage of drunk girls? Well, you’re about to learn a lesson about consent, you fucking piece of shit.”
“Stop,” Evie shouts back, thumping her own fist against the door. “I’m not letting you in until you calm down, Derrick. And I don’t have a man in here. It’s just Ian.”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
“He helped the others get me home,” Evie continues, shooting me a “you know what I mean” look.
And I do know what she means. But for some reason I still don’t like it.
“Ian?” Derrick sounds stumped for a second but recovers quickly. “Ian, open the door. We need to start damage control on this. ASAP.”
Evie flips the deadbolt, unhooks the chain lock, and turns the knob, whipping the door open to reveal Derrick in a sweat-soaked t-shirt and running shorts, making me think he must have run here all the way from his place in Hell’s Kitchen.
He starts to barge in, but Evie holds up a hand, fingers spread wide. “Nope. We’re not going to do this. No yelling. No damage control. This is my problem, and I’m going to fix it.”