“She is my coworker,” I said stiffly.
“Not a good enough reason.”
“She is loud,” I added.
“Fun.”
“She is chaotic.”
“Interesting.”
“She is—” I stopped myself before I said something I couldn’t take back.
My brother hummed. “You like her.”
“I do not.”
“You do.”
“I do not.”
“You’re lying.”
“I am trained not to lie.”
“You are lying right now.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and stared at the ceiling. “Even if I did, which I don’t, this is not a good idea.”
“You said that last time.”
“And I was right.”
He went quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that meant he was thinking about things we didn’t talk about anymore.
I swallowed. “This is different.”
“Yeah,” he said finally. “Sounds like it.”
I forced a breath. “I called you because I thought you would tell me to stay focused. To avoid complications. To keep distance. That is what you usually say.”
“That is what I say when you’re jumping into something reckless,” he replied. “But it doesn’t sound like you’re even jumping. It sounds like you’re scared to walk.”
That hit too close.
He let out a slow breath. “Carson, you keep everyone at arm’s length because you think that makes you safe, but sometimes it just makes you lonely.”
I didn’t answer.
I clenched my jaw. “You’re not being helpful.”
“Then let me be clear,” he said. “You are allowed to want things. You are allowed to feel things. You are allowed to have a connection without assuming the worst outcome.”
His voice softened. “You deserve something good, Carson.”
I stared at the floor, at the melted snow pooling by my boots.
Something good.
