"Public apology, community service, not bad.” I shrug, trying to appear more casual about it than I feel.
Tucker nudges my shoulder. "Nice right hook, though. Dad would be horrified, Mom probably secretly proud."
Despite everything, I feel a smile tugging at my lips. "Dad would pretend to be horrified while Mom's around."
"Exactly."
We reach my car, and I expect Tucker to head toward his own. Instead, he hesitates, and his expression grows serious.
"Have you talked to her?" he asks.
I don't pretend not to know who he means. "No. She made her choice."
"You're both stubborn idiots." Tucker shakes his head. "I've seen the way she looks at you, A. And the way you’ve been moping.”
"I need to clear my head," I say, changing the subject. "And you’re one to talk." His brows fly up, and he shakes his head, starting to say something. I hold up a hand. “I can’t talk about your shit right now, whatever it is. I’m going for a drive.”
I spin on my heel away from my twin, feeling unmoored now more than ever.
I drive aimlessly at first, muscle memory carrying me through familiar streets. Only when I realize I'm approaching Shadyside—where Lena's new apartment is located—do I jerk the wheel, making a sharp turn away.
I don't even know exactly where she lives—just the neighborhood she mentioned. But the thought of accidentally driving past her building, maybe seeing her through a window or on the street, is both tempting and terrifying.
My heart races, and my thoughts swirl. If Tucker were here, he wouldn’t have any experience with this kind ofrelationship fallout. I realize my older brothers do, though. I swallow the bile rising in my throat and veer toward Gunnar and Emerson's place. I haven't called ahead. Haven't even decided if I'm going there until I'm parking outside their building.
I hesitate in the car for a long moment, questioning what I'm even doing here. Gunnar and I have never been the "talk about our feelings" type of brothers.
But I need someone who'll understand. Someone who won't judge me for being a mess over a woman I've known for less than two months.
I knock on their door, perhaps harder than a normal person would. There's a muffled curse from inside, then followed by shuffling footsteps. The door swings open to reveal Gunnar, hair disheveled, wearing only sweatpants. Behind him, I glimpse a door slamming shut.
"Shit." I take a step back. "Bad timing. I didn't call?—"
"Aldernator?” Gunnar blinks, then recovers. "No, it's—we were just—" He runs a hand through his hair, glancing down the hall. "Em, it's Alder."
Emerson's head pops out from behind the bedroom door, her face flushed. "Hi, Alder." She smooths down her shirt, which is definitely on backward. "I was just... napping."
"Right." I start to back away. "I'll go. Sorry to interrupt your... nap."
"Don't be stupid. She’d never fall asleep on my watch.” Gunnar grabs my arm, pulling me inside.
Emerson throws a pillow at his head, which he catches with practiced ease.
He grins at her and turns back to me. "Give me two minutes to get decent, and then we can talk."
I stand awkwardly in their entryway while they straighten up, feeling like an intruder. After a moment, Emerson disappears into her music room. Her curls tamed into a messy bun.Cello music begins to play behind the closed door, which I realize gives Gunnar and me an additional layer of privacy.
Gunnar retrieves two beers from the fridge, handing one to me. "So," he says, dropping onto the now-straightened couch. "What brings you to interrupt my afternoon delight?"
I wince. "Sorry about that."
"I'm kidding. Mostly." He takes a long drink, studying me over the bottle. "Management chewed you out good?"
“Fucker is a blabbermouth.”
“He is, but…” Gun gestures toward my bruised jaw. "Figured there'd be consequences."
I collapse into the armchair across from him. "Community service, public apology, gotta pay for Adam’s plastic surgery or whatever.”
