Surprise sweeps his face at a claim that he knows he can’t deny.
“I changed!” he shouts, slamming a palm to his chest.
“I know!” I snap back. “So did he.”
Drew’s answering laugh mocks, not an ounce of humor.
“Wow,” I breathe out, eyes narrowed on my brother’s patronizing face. “You know, if Connor had known that his best friend thought so little of him, I wonder if he’d have bothered being so loyal to you all these years.” I shake my head in disappointment. “At every turn, he’s been out there defending you, trying to do right by you, all so he wouldn’t lose you as a friend and you don’t even think twice before airing his lowest moments on a busy sidewalk to a bunch of strangers.”
The brief look of chastisement that passes over his features is no match for the anger that he’s white knuckling in his fist.
“You don’t have to like it, Gretchen, but I did it so you could see who he really is. I did it to protect you.”
“You don’t get a say in my relationships. I’m an adult capable of making her own decisions!”
“You’re my little sister!”
“Two things can be true at once, Drew!”
Only the sound of our ragged breaths fill the air as silence falls. He won’t give an inch and there’s a whole mile to go. A renewed dose of stubborn indignation washes over me.
“Let me be perfectly clear,” I begin, all pretense vanishing. “I came here because you’re my brother and I love you. And I’m trying really hard to be patient because I know you’ve had a shitty week and you probably feel like everything’s piled on you at once. I get it. But I’m not here to ask for your permission.” He stiffens. “It’smychoice to make and I’ve made it. I choose him.”
“And if I think it’s the wrong choice?” he asks through gritted teeth, tone unforgiving.
I shrug. “Then you have to let me make it.” His chin drops to his chest. He rotates in place and rakes a hand over his head and down his face. “You have a choice, too. You can choose to be supportive.”
He whirls on me. “No, I can’t. I can’t sit back, knowing the game that he’s playing. I can’t let him use you like that to get you in bed!”
“We haven’t even had sex!” The words tumble out of me before I can stop them. Drew’s face turns a ghostly shade of white and I don’t know if it’s because his baby sister just used the wordsexin a sentence or he’s genuinely surprised by the statement. “And that is the absolute last thing you will ever hear me say on the subject because it is none of your business.”
Finished with this conversation, I grab my purse, phone in hand, and march to the door, leaving my brother aghast and frozen in place in his kitchen. My nerves buzz like tiny gnats crawling on my skin, a combination of disappointment and outrage that I can’t shed fast enough.
I turn back before I reach the door. “Did you even hear what I said yesterday?”
His brows drop. “What?”
“Yesterday, before you saw Connor’s hand under the table and went ballistic.”
Drew expression stumbles a dozen different directions in search of an answerhe can’t find.
“You asked about the trip and I answered. Did you even hear it?” I repeat, waiting for some sort of realization to dawn on his face.
He shakes his head, a weak concession that provides me no comfort.
“I found my birth parents.”
His eyes go wide before they fall closed entirely, throat bobbing. The first true sign of regret I’ve seen from him and it hurts even worse than I expected it to.
“I found an entire family, Drew. It’s a wild story, actually. When you’re in a better headspace, I’d love to tell you about them.”
I don’t give him a chance to answer before I walk out the door. But I don’t let the door shut all the way before hollering from the hallway, angry but the words still true, “I love you!”
It’s barelyeight in the morning when my feet hit the sidewalk outside Drew’s building. Lovesick, dressed in yesterday’s clothes and in dire need of a toothbrush, I run the three blocks to Connor’s apartment hoping I catch him before he leaves for work.
It’s not until I pass a storefront bearing a ‘Closed for July 4th’ sign that I realize it’s a holiday. It hadn’t even dawned on me. Good, he’ll be home.
Except, when I burst through the front door, he’s not there.