Page 39 of Fearlessly Us

At my brother’s voice, I snap my head up, fumbling with my phone to turn off the screen before he can see it. I thank the goddesses above that September decided to actually be fall this year and the evening is cold enough to cool my heated cheeks at the brief, intense fantasy I just indulged in involving Drew Ellicott on his knees. Crawling. For me.

Good lord.

“You planning on coming inside anytime soon?” Jack asks, dropping down next to me on my parents’ front porch swing.

I meant to go inside. I swear I did. But the second I stepped onto the porch, my phone beeped, and when I saw Drew’s name on the screen, my stomach dropped and my heart sped up, my thumbs moving so fast to respond I swear I saw smoke rising from the screen.

I’m not proud.

I would also be a lying liar if I said I hadn’t thought about Drew for the past few nights just as much as he said he was thinking about me.

More, probably.

Again, not proud.

“I am.” I shove my phone into my bag and turn to Jack, propping my leg up on the swing. “I just had a couple work things to take care of first.”

Jack smirks at me. “What kind of work things make you blush and grin your face off at your phone screen?”

I roll my eyes. “Fuck off, I wasn’t doing that.”

Jack looks at me for a long moment before leaning back on the swing all casual-like. “Okay.”

“I wasn’t. It was work stuff. I swear.” The protest comes before I can stop it, and I mentally curse my brother for the strategy he’s deployed with stunning success since we were kids. Until Drew barged into my life that night in New Orleans, Jack has been the only person on earth who gets close to really knowing me. He’s calm, patient, and a little spooky sometimes in the way he just knows things. I love him and also spend a lot of time wanting to strangle him.

Jack pats my hand in the most condescending way imaginable. “I’ll pretend to agree with you if that makes you feel better.” Then his fingers link with mine. “But Cait, you know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

He studies me like he can see through me, and for one, wild moment, I have the urge to tell my brother everything. To talk and talk and talk until I run out of words and flay myself open on our childhood porch on this pretty fall evening, practically tasting the relief of someone finally knowing the whole of me. The words bubble up from my chest, but they get stuck somewhere between my heart and my mouth and then I don’t say anything at all.

Jack nods like he understands, sliding an arm around my shoulders and pulling me closer. “One day,” he says quietly, kissing my hair, and for reasons I don’t understand, I fight the urge to cry.

It’s the insult of impending tears that has my back straightening, the almost tears disappearing as quickly as they came. “What about you?” I ask. “What’s new in Jack world? It’s been a minute, little brother.”

He makes a face at the name just like he did when we were seven and I bent down right in the hallway of our elementary school and tied his shoes for him because I was afraid he would trip in gym and then told him I learned how to tie first because I’m six minutes older and, therefore, smarter.

I am the eldest daughter to ever eldest daughter.

Vibrant color cloaked in responsibility.

Hidden whimsy wrapped in efficiency.

The one who pretends I’m not drowning because I’m too busy keeping everyone else afloat.

The evergreen urge to drop all the balls and run.

I didn’t ask for it, but now I don’t know how to let it go.

Those six minutes are my origin story.

Jack settles in and stretches an arm across the back of the swing. “I’m thinking of doing a fall drink menu for the bar.”

I huff out a laugh. “A fall drink menu is what’s new? That’s boring as shit, Jack. I was hoping for something a little juicer. A torrid love affair or something.”

Jack chuckles. “We had a movie night two weeks ago and I’ve worked until close every single night since then. You think I have time for a torrid love affair? And speaking of movie nights, we’re overdue since you cancelled on me this week. How’s Friday for you?”

Our twin movie nights are sacrosanct. Our younger brother, Dylan, joins when he’s in town, but with him just starting grad school in Michigan, he’s not around as much these days. I cancelled on Jack claiming I was underwater at work the day after I ran into Drew at the hospital because I was bleeding so much it was a crime scene and was still cramping badly enough to require the constant attention of a heating pad. It’s not the first time I’ve cancelled on him because of a bad period, and it definitely won’t be the last, but I hate it every time. “Friday is good, but I think we need to go with a TV show instead of a movie.”

Jack groans. “You’re going to make me watch Jack Ryan, aren’t you?”