“Because it’s crass and beneath you.”
“You swear.” She mashed the bread together and started peeling off the crust.
Good to see some things never change. She’d always hated crusts.
“Look, I’ll grab you a pop. Why don’t you sit at the table like a civilized human being?”
“When did you ever care about that?”
“Hey. That’s not fair. Just because I didn’t believe in our parents’ philosophies on—” I waved my arm about.
“Everything,” she helpfully supplied.
“Well…okay.” She wasn’t wrong. Coming out hadn’t just been a repudiation of their beliefs—it had been a middle finger to their plans for me. Go forth and multiply was the name of the game where we came from. The more children the better, despite the fact that meant more mouths to feed. After the globalist attack they were sure was coming, all hands would be needed. My parents had three other kids between Cheyenne and me. All were, as far as I’d ever perceived, also true believers.
Why Cheyenne and I called bullshit on everything was beyond me. Something in our genes? A bullshit detector? Still… “You’re underage, Cheyenne. You knew you’d be way better staying until you turned eighteen. Even better, an extra few months and finish high school. More opportunities.”
“Like you?” She plopped into a chair and put her plate on the table. Then she took a massive bite.
I got a can of pop out of the fridge, added some ice to a glass, and then poured the cola over it.
“You remembered.” She grinned when I presented the glass.
Truthfully, I remembered a lot about her. She’d only been four when I’d left the first time, a sweet, mischievous toddler I’d missed in the moments I had energy to spare. Those more recent few weeks had imprinted themselves on my mind, though. Newly turned seventeen, she’d made time for me, while Nevada, Austin, and Denver had kept themselves busy. Well, Nevada was married with two kids, but Denver and Austin were still single. Which didn’t mean they took any notice of their disdained older brother, and I couldn’t care less what they liked. My brilliant, surprising little sister, on the other hand… “I do my best. Look, uh…” I pointed over my shoulder down the hall, gesturing that I needed to duck out for a moment.
“Say hi to Ebony. Whoever he or she might be.” She took another bite of her sandwich.
Right. “I’ll be back. Don’t…wander.”
She made a gun with her hand and pretended to shoot my way, a “you got it” gesture telling me she’d do what I asked.
I hotfooted toward the bedrooms and, once I was certain my nosy sister hadn’t followed, stuck my head into my room.
The bed was empty and neatly made. Okay, that’s super sweet. Especially since he was probably balancing on a crutch while doing it.
I crossed the hall to his bedroom and knocked softly.
Three cacophonous barks erupted.
I rolled my eyes. Then the door opened, and I stepped in before Xandra managed an escape.
She meowed at me, perhaps smelling the tuna, and twitched her tail, showing me her butthole in punishment for not bringing her some.
I shut the door behind me and came face-to-face with Arthur.
His hair was pulled back into an elastic. He wore jeans and a sweatshirt and even socks. He leaned heavily on his crutch, though, and lines of pain etched his face.
“What are you doing?” I might’ve whispered that. I straightened. “Sorry, what are you doing up and dressed?”
“Leaving, of course. I mean—” He gestured around the room. His suitcase was haphazardly half-full and he’d sort of managed to pile the dog beds, Xandra’s carrier, and?—
“What the fuck? Sorry, what the hell? You’re not leaving. Jesus, Arthur, you can’t just go. You can’t drive, can’t lug that stuff up your stairs. Let alone your three dogs and…”
Xandra leaped back to the bed, making herself at home on his pillow.
She blinked at me, then indolently began licking her paw. Okay, she could take care of herself. Fresh litter and food were her only requirements in life. We all lived to serve her.
“I heard you out there. Your little sister just arrived, Brooklyn. I can’t stay.”
