Page 138 of My Brother’s Best Friends Entanglement

Her face crumples and I pull her in. She presses into my shoulder and breathes, shaking slightly, and I hold on, saying nothing else, because nothing else needs saying.

“Don't stop coming to me. Don't ever stop talking to me. To any of us. And yes, that includes Marcus. Okay?”

She doesn't say yes, but she doesn't say no either. And for today, that's progress.

“Come on,” I say eventually, lips in her hair, before pulling away. “Let's go inside. We've got a picnic to organise. About effective communication, apparently. You think we could use this conversation as an example? I especially like the 'you're a stinky poohead, no you're a stinky poohead' line.”

She laughs, actually laughs, loud and surprised, and lets me lead her inside.

THIRTY-NINE

Alexia

Morialta Park on a late winter morning smells like eucalyptus, wet leaves and overcooked barbecue, but it works. By the time Rhys and I finish wrestling the second marquee upright, sausages are already going, drinks cooling in the eskies, and a trestle table sagging under a potluck spread that's at least fifty per cent lamingtons and crockpots. A cricket game has already broken out on the flat grass. And somebody's toddler is chasing one of the wayward helium balloons we gave out.

Eighty people, give or take, are expected, the whole department and their families. And despite the added stress of organising the outing on top of everything, I've actually been looking forward to it. The last two weeks have been easier, quieter, in the good way. I've been talking to the guys again, actually talking, even managing to get away for some time alone, now and then. But never with all three. Someone needs to be with Leon, whether he thinks so or not. But we've managed to get into a routine. Rhys was pretty thrilled to have a reason to add an extra colour code and column to the Google calendar, and Marcus has more or less managed to stick to it.

“Lex!”

I turn towards the voice, a smile already on my face, to see Marcus and Zachary flanking a wheelchair, Leon in it looking thoroughly unimpressed with having to come to a park trapped in a chair, but still happy to be outside. Patrick, his now regular nurse, is pushing the chair despite Leon's protestations.

I run to them, hug Marcus, hug Zachary, and crouch in front of Leon's chair with my hands on his knees.

“You made it.”

“You didn't think I'd miss free sausages because of a few measly broken bones, did ya?” Being outside has already helped bring the colour back to his cheeks. “Patrick gets an extra one. For pushing my wheelchair and not complaining.”

“I complain plenty,” Patrick says. “Just not where you can hear it.”

Rhys comes up behind me, greeting his housemates, polo sweater pushed up to his elbows, sweat along his brow from doing most of the heavy lifting. He smiles when he catches me grinning at months of planning finally coming together.

“Looks good, Alexi,” he says. “You did well.”

“We did well.” He pats me on the shoulder. It's such a small action but I feel it all through my body.

“Alexia! Rhys! Quick question—” a grad student jogs over, pointing to a delivery van with some of the extra seats we had brought from campus.

Rhys and I both point to the other. “Not it,” we say simultaneously, and laugh.

“Ugh. Fine. Rock paper scissors,” I say. “Loser sorts it out. Best of three.”

He loses, two rounds in, and huffs out something that's almost a laugh, then jogs over to the van.

“We'll go help,” Zachary says, turning out of Leon's eye line, giving me a wink and mouthing 'you look so hot' which makes me blush. He grabs Marcus's arm. “Come on, Bob the Builder.” Marcus protests, but goes anyway.

“Please help yourself to drinks or any number of the ten varieties of lamingtons that we have,” I say to Patrick, who wanders over to the food table.

“You look happy today,” Leon says, once it's just us.

I give him a playful kick in the shin. “Yeah? Well, no thanks to you. I had to spend my birthday in a hospital waiting room.”

“I never did get a thank you for my attempted surprise, by the way.” He wheels himself over to a sunnier spot and I follow. “How's everything going? In between all the nearly losing your beloved brother stuff?”

I sink into a bench, shielding my eyes as I watch a family come in from the car park and give them a wave. “Firstly, I have three weeks until my thesis defence. And four weeks until I'm done here. They offered to let me do it online, but I think I'll be better doing it in person.” I don't tell him I don't know how I feel about going back to Sydney yet. Or if I'm even going to. And I certainly don't tell him why. “I've put in a few different applications. But the Hargreaves Fellowship submission's due in a few days. I think I'm actually in with a chance, my application's looking a lot more filled out since Rhys helped me.” I hold up crossed fingers. “We'll see.”

“You'll get it,” he says, with so much confidence it almost rubs off on me. “Anyway.” He drags it out. “What about your love life? You're going to be Doctor Riley in a month. Somebody should probably wife you up before you get too intimidating.”

“That's not something I'm thinking about.” I keep my eyes trained dead ahead so they don't betray me.