Her budding maturity seems incredibly sudden to me. The gradual change doesn’t register as I see her day by day, but now with her curled in my bed, I am struck by just how much she has changed from the little girl who used to cuddle up with me just like this when I came home from boarding school. Her watery blue eyes have matured to a steely grey. Gone is the soft layer of childhood pudge, replaced with a lithe frame and angular bone structure.Christ, I hope the boys these days are better behaved than we were.
Not bloody likely.
“Can I offer a bit of advice?”
“Sure.” She sets her empty mug on the table beside her and snuggles into my side.
“It helps to keep some clothes stashed somewhere to change into before coming back home. That way, if you’re caught, at least you’re not in party clothes with no plausible deniability.”
She shrugs. “It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment party. Not much time for planning. But thanks for the suggestion. I’ll do better next time.” She makes no attempt at stifling a huge yawn.
I can’t help but let out one of my own, setting my cup aside and pulling the blankets higher over us. “One last thing, Liesel.”
“Hmm?” she mumbles sleepily.
“Claus has a supply of protective equipment hidden in the garage in the black tool cart near the drivers’ office. But if you want to see a doctor for some added security, all you have to do is ask.”
She pats my chest. “Thanks, bro, but Cousin Trixie already has me covered on that front.”
Great, seems like I’m the last to know any of this.
“Don’t be mad,” my sister says through another yawn. “I made her promise not to tell.”
I stroke her long golden waves until she falls asleep, and I’m not far behind as her rhythmic breathing lulls meoff too.
My little sister and I nap together for a while before I finally send her home with Brenton to talk to Mother. She’s hesitant initially, but we work through her talking points and apology, and she relents.
I immediately regret sending her away as soon as Brenton pulls off. The house is too quiet, too empty, and all the emotions that were swept aside while I sat with my sister come crashing back with a vengeance. Marta left some scones on the counter, and I grab one, knowing I need something on my stomach, but not really feeling like eating.
I converted the room across from mine into a media room. It’s a smaller room, but I managed to find a sectional sofa that fits and even has seats that recline. The walls are painted black, and the window is covered with heavy blackout curtains. With the lights out, it’s like a cave in here.
I settle into a corner of the couch and toss the heavy crocheted throw blanket Granny gave me as a housewarming gift over myself. Flicking through all my streaming services, I try to find something that doesn’t take a lot of brain power to watch, what Miles would call comfort food TV. I settle on an early season ofBig Bang Theory, but even Sheldon’s antics can’t keep my mind from wandering to a certain nanny.
The ache is back, and I’m paralyzed by it again.
