“Did you only call to insult my husband?” I ask.
I don’t know why I defend Franklin to my brother. Of all the people in this world, Nash is the one I can be honest with. Yet, just like I do with everyone else, I pretend I’m fine and marriage is great.
“You know why I called.”
“I need to get to sleep. I have work tomorrow.”
“What are you doing this weekend?” he asks.
“You’re not working?”
“Nah, I took a few days off. Rough case.”
I nod to myself, looking up at the ceiling. Must be bad if he’s taking time off, something he rarely does on the off chance he can. Going undercover means he goes dark. Sometimes I don’t hear from him for months, unsure if he’s even alive. One time, I ran into him while I was putting out a fire. Thankfully, I knew better than to talk to him and blow his cover.
I should invite him over this weekend. It would be the nice thing to do. We don’t spend much time together. But my brother carries as much weight as I do, and I feel it too much when we’re together. It’s easier to stay away from all the things that remind me ofthen, even if that means keeping up a wall between me and my family.
“I’ll see how I’m feeling. I worked a lot this week, too. I’ll call you.”
“That’s a no,” he grumbles. “Good night, JJ. Call me if you need anything.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say before ending the call.
I turn to put my phone down, but before I do, I pull up Franklin’s number and press dial.
“Hello, Jericho,” he answers, his tone cold and distant.
“How was your day?” I ask, trying to sound bright. It comes out as more of a surprised tone, because I hadn’t expected him to answer.
He sighs, and I can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose the way he does when he’s tired and annoyed. “Long. Busy. Did you need something?”
“Just calling to talk to my husband. We haven’t spoken since last week.”
“Has it been that long?”
“Yeah, Franklin, it has.”
“Things have been hectic here.”
“Because of the restaurant?”
“Of course.”
“Why didn’t you tell me the new one was opening?”
“I did tell you.”
He always does this…
“No, you didn’t.”
He sighs again, but this time it’s more annoyed than anything else. “I don’t have time to argue with you, Jericho. Do you need something?” he repeats.
Emotion crawls into my throat, settling there and making it difficult to breathe.
I clear it, but it doesn’t help.
“No, sorry for bothering you.”
