“Yeah? What did you bring me?” I’m still upset, but the promise of a better lunch than just a protein bar piques my interest.
“A salmon bowl,” he says.
“Take lunch early if you want,” Piper adds. “Blair is coming in soon, and Mari just got here.”
“I can stay for a bit,” my brother says. “I don’t have any more classes today.”
I huff. “Fine. But only because you brought me a salmon bowl.”
Avery grins.
We siton a wooden bench away from the rescue and clinic, food in our laps. The sky is a crisp bright blue, and there’s the perfect gentle breeze to accompany it.
It’s also a relief to escape Logan’s tempting bourbon and vanilla scent.
If I don’t focus on it too much, then I’m not reminded of the most awkward conversation of my life, or how Ivan stared at the both of us in uncomfortable disbelief.
Looking things up online is never helpful,Logan had said.
Well then what was the internet invented for, if not to look things up?
What ajerk.
“How are you?” Avery starts, digging into his teriyaki bowl.
I poke a piece of salmon with a chopstick. “You really don’t have any more classes today?” I ask him. “It’s early.”
As a professor of photography at Luna Community College, Avery’s schedule is usually packed on the days he teaches.
It’s suspicious that he’s at the rescue in the early afternoon.
“Nah,” he says softly. “Class got cancelled.”
I frown. “You meanyoucancelled class.”
He doesn’t reply, so I begin to devour my food, the flavors hitting my tongue. I close my eyes in bliss, savoring the umami taste.
But I can feel my brother watching me, and I swallow and turn to him. “What?” I ask carefully, meeting the amber eyes that resemble mine.
“Piper says you’ve been having a hard time recently,” he says gently, and the food in my stomach sours with a realization.
“Did you cancel class just to talk to me?” I ask in disbelief.
He shakes his head too quickly. “Of course not,” he insists, and I’m mortified.
My brother has never been a good liar, especially not to me.
“Avery, what the hell? I’m twenty-four years old. I’m an adult; you don’t have to drop everything to check on me.” I look back at my lunch suspiciously. “Or bribe me with food to talk to me about something.”
His cheeks turn pink, and my humiliation from before returns tenfold.
“Oh my god,” I mumble, dropping my chopsticks in the plastic bowl.
Everyone thinks I’m a mess.
My best friend talked to her Alpha, mybrother, about me.
“So, what?” I ask softly. “This is like…some sort of sibling intervention?”
