“I can’t say the same for you,” he jibed, but there was no judgment in it, only teasing. I followed Vinh to the cast-iron bench just beyond the ramp and complied without a fuss when he clapped me on the shoulder and guided me to sit.
He tugged lightly on my disheveled braid as his other hand appeared in front of me and he opened it. I met his silent request, pulling the dark-blue elastic—Cody’s hair tie—from the end of my hair and placing it in Vinh’s palm.
“So,” he started casually, “you’re good?”
“You could say that, big bro.”
“Good,” he said simply before tapping my shoulder. “Scoot back.”
And then my grumpy, thoughtful brother started re-braiding my hair.
There was a light tugging on my scalp as he worked, and a few moments later, he broke the silence.
“Do you remember when you tricked Bree into coming to the houseboat for breakfast?”
I hummed. “Yes. Though saying I tricked her is both an under- and oversimplification. And it was a glorious day, don’t you think? Much like this one.”
Another tug preceded a grunt of agreement. “And you remember what you said to me after Bree fell asleep on the deck?”
I closed my eyes and imagined that day, sifting through the memory. Vinh had texted me and invited me to his new lease—the houseboat—for breakfast, and I decided to go by Caffeina to get us coffees, taking a gamble.
That gamble had turned into a jackpot when I encountered Bree at Fortuna, looking so tired and lost, and invited her along.
At the time, my brother—as reserved and not prone to communication as he was—hadn’t explained that he was planning on selling his condo in Gulf Shores, which had made the idea of him starting something with my new friend Bree without the intention of sticking around so anxiety inducing that I’d voiced my concerns to him.
It had been a wonderful exercise in both sibling razzing and candid sharing.
Ah. I saw now.
The breeze caressed my skin, and I took hold of the wheel of this conversation, steering us toward Vinh’s intended destination.
“Cody and Bree share a brain,” I stated.
He tapped my shoulder in confirmation, never one to use words when he didn’t need to.
“A beautiful brain that sometimes isn’t beautiful to its owners,” I added.
Vinh tied off my braid and came to stand in front of me, offering me a hand and a sympathetic look along with two words of wisdom. “Small steps.”
I accepted it all immediately, my gaze flitting from the burn scars on one of his forearms to the tattoo on the other as he pulled me to my feet.
“Was moving to the Coast such a small step?” I mused, smiling up at him.
He raised his shoulder in a show of nonchalance, but his eyes were knowing. “Presence, little brother.”
“You decisive Scorpio.”
He clapped me on the shoulder and guided me to the ramp. “Isn’t your sign meant to be the opposite? I’ve never thought you quite fit that.”
I considered it on the way up the ramp, and when we reached the top, I answered.
“It’s probably why I can’t commit to one artistic medium, but no. That particular Libra quality doesn’t apply here. It never has.”
I fell easily into the memory of the kiss, of Cody’s hazel eyes, of the first time I heard his voice, saw him for the man he was.
The obvious and subtle ways he hid his heart from the world.
“No,” I mused, mostly to myself. “There never was a decision.”
