The Air That I Breathe (The Game 3.5)

New underwear were needed, but they would have to wait until it was my turn to shower.

When Reese reemerged, he was dripping wet and had a new towel around his hips. And for the first time in my life, I admitted to myself that I found him sexy as hell. I was insanely attracted to my own brother, and I wasn’t even gonna worry if that made me a narcissist. My life was fucked up enough as it was.

Judging by how quickly Reese got dressed and how he avoided eye contact, I had a feeling I knew what he was gonna do today—anything that put distance between us.

I was prepared for it.

“I saw that we’ve run out of detergent,” he said. “I’ll go out and get some more.”

Starting right now, then.

“Okay.”

Two minutes later, he was heading out, and I trailed into the bathroom and threw my sheets into the washer.

I wonder.

I opened the cupboards and squatted down.

And I sighed.

There were two boxes of the same detergent Pop always bought at Sam’s Club.

“Nice try, Reese.” I grabbed a box and started the washer.* * *While I spent the day reading one of the books I’d brought from home and using the underused home gym in Pop’s bedroom, Reese was in and out of the house the whole time, doing anything to avoid talking to me. He’d returned with detergent, only to find the washer running already, which had prompted a quick excuse to drive over to the cemetery and visit Ma’s grave.

He hadn’t visited since the funeral, but whatever.

By late afternoon, it was just funny. And the thing was, I hadn’t even tried talking to Reese. Every time I opened my mouth, it was to say something casual. Something of no meaning or importance. Like, we should watch Braveheart soon since we’d been too tired last night. Like, I talked to Nana; she wanted to say hi before she got on the cruise ship. Like, we needed more ketchup.

I wasn’t gonna hound him. He’d come to me when he was ready.

My brother might be reckless and impulsive at times, but he wasn’t stupid. If he wasn’t feelin’ something, he wouldn’t go through with it. That was why I wasn’t too worried about his “date” tonight. He was grasping for something, and as soon as he saw it wasn’t what he was looking for, he’d drop it like a hot potato. And what he wanted wasn’t fucking Brian at the gas station.

At six, I heated up two ramen cups and brought them to the couch. While I waited for the noodles to soak up the water, I flipped through some ads and catalogues in hopes I’d get inspired about what to get Reese for Christmas. The plan was to step out tomorrow morning to buy something. His car back home needed a new stereo. He also needed to get the rust taken care of…

I forked up some noodles and blew on them as Reese came out from our room.

“Why are you eating that shit?” he asked me irritably. “I was just gonna make my mac and cheese and bacon casserole.”

“There’s room for that too.” I patted my stomach, then slurped some noodles into my mouth.

He made a face of disgust and continued into the kitchen.

I shook my head. There was nothing wrong with noodles.

Granted, I preferred my brother’s cooking. He’d inherited his skills from both Ma and Nana. Or so I willed myself to believe. Because I was fucking useless in the kitchen, and I hadn’t seen Reese practice. It was like he woke up old enough one day and suddenly knew how to cook.

Reese abandoned the stove when the phone rang, and he picked it up. “Reese Tenley.” He paused. “Hey.” By his tone alone, I figured it was Pop. “Yup, all good. Storm’s pretty much passed now. The landing was a little bumpy, but that’s about it.” He drew the cord around his finger and turned to me with his eyebrows raised.

“What?” I asked.

He responded to Pop first. “Yeah, no, we get it.”

Oh, what a shocker. Pop wasn’t coming home on the 24th.

I was done pretending about this whole family charade. I wasn’t coming next year.

To be honest, Pop extending his work trip was a relief, though I wasn’t sure my brother felt the same way. His face fell a little when Pop said something, and it put me on edge. All Reese had done in our family was try to keep us together—at least before. In the last few years, he’d started giving up too.

“No, that makes sense,” he replied. “Don’t worry about it. We haven’t gotten you anything yet either.”

I frowned.

Reese had picked up a Willie Nelson CD collection for Pop before we flew out.

“Yeah, sure. See you then. I’ll tell him.” Reese hung up the phone and went back to the stove. “He’ll be home on the 29th instead, and we’re no longer exchanging gifts because we’re adults now.”