I let out a teary laugh. “I’m not sure that’s the most mature method of solving sibling conflicts.”
Shawn shrugs, his smile rueful. “It works for us.”
I stare back at my brother, and I so badly want to take this out that he’s offering. But I’m also terrified this is his people-pleaser monster rearing its head and trying to smooth things over while hurt festers underneath.
“You aren’t just mad at Karl. You’re mad at me, too,” I tell him, as if I can command him to admit it.
Shawn snorts. “Oh, I am?”
“Yes.” I jab him in the chest with a finger, trying to drill some reality into the heart I know I hurt. “I lied to you, Shawn. For years. I’m a liar who lied to you. Don’t ignore how that makes you feel.”
He huffs out an aggravated breath, and the display of frustration is a good sign.
“Yeah, okay, it’s fucked up that you lied.” His words fuel my shame and guilt, but I don’t shy away from the feelings. “I don’t like that you lied to me. Lies make me anxious.”
“And mad,” I press.
“Fine!” Shawn throws his arms up, dramatic until the end. “I’m maybe, kind of, a little, minuscule bit mad at you. I thought we were close enough that you could always tell me the truth, and it hurts to realize that you didn’t feel the same. But,” he holds out a silencing finger to stop me when I’m on the verge of speaking, “I believe you when you say you care about me.”
Oh. “I do.”
“That’s what causes my anxiety. Not knowing who truly cares about me.” His frustrated frown eases into a rueful smirk. “I knowthat with you. Always.” He flicks a chunk of drywall off my shoulder. “We can fight like siblings and be fine. That’s all I want. Is to fight and be fine.” Shawn drags in a deep breath and sighs it out. “I want to know that if all the cash disappeared, you’d still be here. And you would. Iknowyou would. Because you’re my sister, and you love me. And I love you.” His lips curve to a playful grin. “So sure, I’m mad at you. But not really.”
My brother just crumbled my weak little heart and built it back stronger with his words.
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
Shawn nods. “So am I. Do you forgive me?”
“Of course.”
“Good. I forgive you, too.” He reaches out to ruffle my hair, white plaster dust falling from the strands. “Look at that. No shots fired.”
I grimace. “Feel like I could use one anyway.”
“Me, too. Got any booze in this place?”
Ten minutes later—after I’ve rinsed off most of the wall residue—we’re on the back porch, each with a beer, watching as Grumps snuffles in the yard for signs of squirrels.
Shawn waits until I have a few swallows before he starts digging. “So, you’re in love with my best friend?”
I pick at my beer label. “I could ask the same of you.” The comment is pure deflection.
“She’s so mean to me.” Shawn says this with a dreamy smile as he stares into the fading light of the sky.
“And that…does it for you?”
He chuckles. “Yeah. I want her to be mean to me every day. And then, when she’s nice…” He swirls his bottle, his expression softening with hope. “It means I’m doing something right. I get what the rest of the world doesn’t.”
Oddly, I completely understand what he’s saying. Being one of the few people Darla loves is special. I get why he’d want to earn his way into her small circle of trust. If anyone can manage it, Shawn can.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice that distraction.”
“Fine. Yes. I love your friend. But he’s sticking his head up his ass.”
“What did he do?”
“He proposed to me to win an argument.”
