“Hello?” I call hesitantly as I step forward, scanning the hallway. “Is anyone there?”
Silence. Then the bathroom door creaks open, and a voice—familiar yet unexpected—responds, “What’s a Sherlock?”
My heart leaps into my throat before I can recognize my brother, and as Ethan steps into the light, it stops altogether.
“What the hell happened to your face?”
His features are barely recognizable under the purplish bruises blooming around his eyes. A gash splits his left eyebrow, still oozing slightly despite the bloodied towel pressed against it, and his bottom lip is swollen, a deep cut etched into the corner. Strands of dark blond hair hang limp and damp with sweat, plastered against his forehead.
He touches the side of his jaw gingerly, wincing. “No big deal,” he mutters, as if he doesn’t look like he just walked out of a bar brawl. His green eyes are bloodshot and dulled. “I hope you don’t mind I let myself in.” He holds up the bloodied towel sheepishly. “And used your towel to clean up.”
“Of course not. Everything in here is yours, too.” I suppress a grimace, noticing he picked awhitetowel. “I’ll get you some ice.”
I stalk toward the kitchen, my mind racing. The last time I saw Ethan was on his birthday, almost a year ago, and I know he’s angry at me. He just won’t say it.
It’s my fault. It’s been five years since our parents died, and I didn’t fight to keep us close. Now I don’t know a single thing about him, and the first time I see him in a year, he’s bleeding on my couch.
Shoving the nagging sense of guilt deep down, I walk back and hand him the makeshift ice pack. “So? Did you lose a fight against King Kong?”
Ethan presses the bundle of ice to his bruised cheek. “Just ran into some trouble. But if I’d showed up at home like this, Grandma would have killed me.”
I take a seat on the couch. “That definitely doesn’t look like just ‘some trouble,’ Ethan.”
He rolls his eyes and leans back, staring up at the ceiling like he’s already over this conversation. “Seriously, what’s a Sherlock?”
“A cat.”
He gasps. “You have a cat?”
“Yeah. He’s not here, though.” I shrug. “Illicit love scandal with a labradoodle.”
“Wow.” Ethan shifts, pressing the ice pack against his split lip. “I’ve always wanted a pet—well, a dog, ’cause I’m normal.”
“Hey,” I warn cautiously. “Seriously, Ethan, what happened to your—”
“What’s new with you? Besides the cat—you know, he’d eat you if you died.”
“Well, I plan to stay alive for the time being.” I know he’s avoiding the topic of his face and whatever happened to it, but I try tothink of something interesting to tell him about my mundane life. “Uh, I’ve got a new assignment at work. Romance. If the trial run goes well, I’ll be making double what I do now.”
He nods, seemingly impressed. “I’ve listened to your podcast a few times.”
“Really?” I actually feel nervous. “What did you think?”
“That you’re a nerd,” he mocks. “I never read a book and had thirty minutes’ worth of stuff to say about it.”
“Aren’t you charming?” I shoot back. But seeing him snicker makes my heart swell. I can’t remember the last time I saw him happy.
“What about you?” I ask. “School okay?”
“It’s fine. All my old friends are at Willowbrook High.”
“I’m sure you’ve made new friends in Wethersfield.”
He shrugs, a little too nonchalantly. “Not at school, but yeah. Jace. Grandma doesn’t like him, though, so…” He shakes his head. “I don’t see him a lot.”
“Why doesn’t she like him?” All I get in response is a grunt, so I ask, “What about love? Are you dating anyone?”
He frowns and looks away.
