“He probably bribed her with tuna sandwiches.”
“Is it working on you?” Brooklyn asked.
That made her laugh, looking up from the happy greetings of the two dogs. For the first time, she seemed like a young seventeen, and I realized how much strain she must be carrying. “I didn’t come here just for the tuna sandwich, big brother, but it helped.”
I could see Brooklyn fighting not to ask her why she did come, except a yawn split his face. Of course, I did the same, and then Cheyenne and Eb followed suit.
Cheyenne stared at Eb’s furry black face as he gaped his jaws. “Are yawns contagious to dogs?”
“I think so.” I couldn’t help setting off another round.
Brooklyn sighed. “It’s late. Or early. Whatever. Finish your sandwich, Cheyenne, and then I’ll show you your room.”
“Can I shower?”
“If you want. If you can stay up for it. Otherwise, sheets wash. Do it in the morning.”
Cheyenne pushed away from Eb and stood, stuffed the last bite of sandwich into her mouth, then rubbed her eyes. “Bed sounds awesome. I slept on a bench last night.”
I met Brooklyn’s gaze and read fear in his expression, and no wonder. I was the youngest in my family, but I could imagine how scary the thought of a teen sister wandering out in the world alone was.
Well, not just imagine. Melissa was three years older than me, but she’d gotten herself into some hair-raising situations. Luckily, that hadn’t been my problem as the baby of the family, and my parents had kept a lot of her worst moments from me. I had the impression Brooklyn felt more responsible for Cheyenne.
“I’m glad you made it here safe,” I told her.
For a moment, her air of confidence wavered and she admitted, “Me too.” But then she dredged up a grin. “I still want that shower, though. I’m gross.”
“Follow me.” Brooklyn led her off down the hallway.
Eb stretched, then before I could stop him, set his paws on her abandoned chair and licked a glob of tuna and mayo off her plate.
“Ebony!” I scolded. “Sit.” Then when he did, “Down.” Once he’d been a good boy, I set Chili on the floor, hobbled over, and swiped a bit of mayo with my finger. Twain happily licked it, Eb slurped his share. Chili looked at me as if I was trying to poison her. “There’s tuna in it, picky princess,” I told her, then gave Twain hers, before carrying the plate to the sink.
I heard the water come on in the shower down the hall, then Brooklyn reappeared.
I wanted to ask questions, to demand what came next, for her, for us, to ask if he still wanted me around. But when he came into the light, he looked exhausted, almost lost. Darker-than-usual circles ringed his eyes, and his pretty mouth was pressed in a flat line. I opened my arms and he came to me for a hug.
“Sorry,” he said from the circle of my hold. “I had no idea she was coming, or staying. I know family drama’s not what you bargained for.”
“Shh.” I told him. At least I could hold him and make him feel better. “We’ll worry about it in the morning.”
“I want you back in my bed, but we probably shouldn’t.”
“Probably not.” I was gay and out and not ashamed of anything, but I wasn’t comfortable coming out of a man’s bedroom in front of his teenage sister.
“Damn. I had plans for us and that bed.”
“They’ll keep.”
“Oh good. You’re not going to run away?”
I loosened my hold so I could meet his eyes. “Run?”
“Get out of Dodge. Fade into the distance. Scarper.”
“I know what it means.” A twinge of head pain made me say that more roughly than I meant to. Then the vertigo hit, and a flash of light across my vision forced me to grab the edge of the table. “I’m going to bed.”
“I’m sorry.”
