I stand and walk to the sink, washing out my coffee cup until it is clean—not a stain left. How do I find the right words in this moment, how do I explain or excuse my relationship with my brother? Do I tell him about thetouch game? Is that really an excuse for what Erik and I became?
I jump at the sound of a phone ringing. I turn, my eyes hitting his cell that flashes on the kitchen bench.
Konnor lifts the phone to his cheek. “Hello?” He turns to face me and leans backwards on the counter, crossing his ankles in front of him. We occupy his kitchen together, him watching me, the bacon cracking beside him, and me washing a clean cup over and over. “I’m okay,” he says. “Yeah… Yeah, she's awake... Yeah, you can send her up.”
Her?
Sendherup?
Please don’t be Pembie.
He smiles tightly at me, talking into the phone, “Thanks, Adolf.” Then lowers it from his face.
I set the cup down and turn to face him, suddenly feeling as though I need to manage my messy life and this Erik business, just like he is obviously managing his life. “I have to make a few calls.”
“To who?”
“The hospital.”
He flicks the stove off. “Fuck that!”
My breath catches. “He’s still my brother.” The word brother scratches my throat like glass.
“No he isn’t! What the hell? Did I interpret what I saw wrong? Were you not crying?” He crosses the kitchen to where I stand. When he reaches me, he runs both hands down my arms and grips my hands. It’s not until he holds them in his, that I realise my fingers are trembling.
His eyes narrow. “This has happened before.” It wasn’t a question, and my face can’t hide the truth.
Yes.
Ashamed, I look down. “Not like that.”
When I look back at him again, his face is very still, each feature controlled. “Like what?”
“I used to flinch. When I was first adopted, I would flinch at everything. He taught me not to be afraid of touch. It’s as simple as that. I don’t flinch now.”
“Not with your body.”
Oh, God.
My throat thickens.
A knock breaks the intensity between us. I pull my hands up and his drop away. Konnor can't possibly understand how much I owe Erik for all those nights he listened to me cry, held me through nightmares, was my only comfort. He saved my life. In more ways than one.
Konnor hasn’t moved.
Another knock at the door.
“This conversation isn’t over,” he says, before walking towards the door, and I exhale hard as soon as he is around the corner and out of view.
“Donuts?” I hear Elise’s voice.
Relief moves through me.
She appears, stepping into the kitchen, holding a big brown paper bag. “I have cigarettes, too.” She forces a bright smile, but the worry in her eyes is there.
Jaxon and Elise dropped us here yesterday and left. I think we all knew things needed to be said, explained, and more—but just not now.
“Please, make yourself at home,” Konnor jokes.
