Not My Hero

Brie also leans forward, and she tightly clasps her hands while staring at the ground. “You can’t say that for sure. What if something goes wrong?”

Keeping in mind that all the fights Brie had to face were never in her favor, I reply, “Let’s say we get into a fight, I’m not going to demand you leave. We’ll talk about whatever caused the argument and deal with it. Like normal people do.” I turn my eyes to her. “I’m not a petty person, Brie. I’ll never do that to you. The day I brought you home, I took responsibility for you.”

Brie shakes her head, a miserable look tightening her features. “I know you’re a good person, but… I shouldn’t be your responsibility. You’re only a year older than me. You have your own life to worry about.”

Brie needs to feel like she’s contributing to the household, or she’ll never feel like she’s a part of it. I change my strategy and say, “Let me put it another way then. Up until you moved in, I was doing everything around the house.” I suck in a breath of air and admit, “My mom hardly left her room.”

Brie brings her eyes up to mine. “Gosh, I didn’t know. I’m sorry. That must’ve been tough.”

“Yeah, but now you’re living with us. You can help me, and honestly, my mom’s been much better with you around.” I turn toward Brie and place my hand over hers. “Brie, you’re helping us as much as we’re helping you.” I can see my words are starting to get through to her, and a smile begins to play around my mouth. “I promise we’ll never kick you out.” I scrunch my nose, knowing that never is a long time, then add, “Unless you do something terrible, like kill someone.” I let out a chuckle. “And that also depends on who you kill. I’m willing to help get rid of specific bodies.”

Brie lets out a burst of laughter. “Don’t worry. I can’t even bring myself to kill an ant.”

Our eyes meet, and I murmur, “I wouldn’t have invited you to stay if I wasn’t serious about it. I want you to feel at home. Don’t worry about finances.”

“Living with my mother, money was the one thing I’ve never had to worry about,” Brie admits. “I’ve always had everything I needed because my mother didn’t want people talking. Also, my grandparents kept giving her money so she would stay here and not move back to California.” She takes a deep breath. “It’s funny how much can change in the space of a couple of days.”

“Yeah,” I agree. Giving her hand another squeeze, I ask, “Do you feel better now?”

She nods, then asks, “So you’ll let me help around the house? I can do the laundry and keep the house clean. I can –”

I let out a chuckle and stand up, interrupting Brie’s rambling, “I get a feeling if I don’t stop you, you’ll do everything. We’ll split the chores. Okay?”

Brie gets up and nods, a smile stretching over her face. “I’d like that.”

I glance around the park, then say, “Well, we’ve kind of seen the park. Where are we going next?”

Brie draws her bottom lip between her teeth while she thinks, then asks, “Have you been to Anderson’s bookstore?”

I shake my head.

“You’re missing out then. They have the best art supplies in town. Oh, and books, of course.”

Walking back to the truck, I interlink my fingers with Brie’s, feeling much better now that we got that problem out of the way.

“Colton,” she murmurs next to me.

“Yeah.”

Brie brings her other hand to the inside of my elbow and pressing her cheek to my shoulder, she whispers, “It’s nice having someone I can talk to.”

We reach the truck, and I open the passenger door for her with a broad smile on my face.

The drive is quick to the bookstore, and when we walk inside, Brie gestures toward the aisles of books. “That’s the fiction side, and over there, you’ll find all the other categories.” Then she points to our right. “That’s my section.”

I pull Brie toward the sketchpads and ask, “Do you need anything?”

She shakes her head. “I got what I needed before school started.”

My gaze falls on a row of pretty pens and journals, and I walk toward it. “Have you ever journaled before?”

Brie shakes her head and picks up one with shades of soft pink and gold, and the words ‘Unicorn Dreams’ scribbled on the front.

“You want that one?” I ask.

Brie shakes her head and puts it back.

One catches my eyes, and loving the words on the cover, I read, “Shit, I can’t say out loud.” We both chuckle, and then I say, “I’ll get you this one.”

“What for?” Brie asks.

“To write all the things you can’t say out loud.” I wrap my arm around her shoulder and steer her toward the biography section. “I’m looking for a specific book.”