Sweet Dandelion

“Ansel is here, I told him I’d meet him in the lobby.”

“Okay.” His voice is deeper, gruff, and I know he’s lost in things he can’t say.

I close the door softly behind me so the click of the door is barely audible.

Down the elevator I go until I find Ansel waiting in the lobby, gaze on the ceiling. I can’t blame him for staring. The blown glass chandeliers are pretty amazing. His dark hair is parted, brushed back from his forehead and he’s dressed in basketball shorts and a plain tee. He almost doesn’t look like himself. I’m used to seeing him in tight jeans, a white v-neck, and some sort of jacket even if it’s above seventy degrees.

“Ansel,” I call, and he drops his eyes from the ceiling.

A large smile softens the angles of his face when he sees me. “Your brother is giving you a hard time, huh?”

“Yeah,” I admit as he closes the distance, “but I understand where he’s coming from. You don’t mind, do you?”

He shakes his head. “Does this place have room service?”

I laugh, pushing the elevator button. “Actually they do.”

“Fuck, you’re living the dream, Meadows. If I get hungry my mom tells me to figure it out. This would be convenient.”

“But expensive. Still, my brother and I order out for the most part anyway.”

“Right, you mentioned you can’t cook. He can’t either?”

“Nope.”

We step onto the elevator when the doors finally slide open. “That’s rough. My mom’s a great cook.”

“My mom was, too.”

“Fuck, Meadows, I’m the worst.”

I push the button for the eleventh floor.

Ansel leans his body against the side of the elevator, giving me a sympathetic look. “Forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive. I’m not going to be mad about a comment like that. You’re allowed to talk about your mom.”

His eyes soften and he looks at me fondly. I’m sure he’s curious about what took my parents away from this earth, but he hasn’t asked. Maybe he assumes since they’re both gone it was a car accident or something. For now, I’ll let him believe that if it is what he thinks. One day, hopefully I’ll have the strength to tell him the truth, but I can’t right now.

When the doors slide open I lead him silently down the hall.

“Your brother doesn’t own a gun does he?” Ansel now looks a tiny bit afraid as he realizes my big brother waits for him beyond a door.

“No, no guns,” I whisper, trying to block out the memories that are creeping from the recesses of my brain.

Swinging open the door I laugh when we find Sage leaning not-so-casually against the kitchen counter, glaring at the door.

I walk in first, letting Ansel use me as a shield.

“Sage, this is Ansel. Ansel, my brother Sage.”

Ansel clears his throat and takes a step around me. “It’s nice to meet you.” He holds out a hand to my brother.

Sage looks at his hand like it’s some exotic animal who could possibly bite him. His eyes drift up, taking in Ansel’s appearance before staring daggers into him. “You don’t touch my sister with that hand do you?”

I mentally slap my forehead.

“Uh…” Ansel looks back at me and then my brother. “N-No?”