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Zellman grunted. “Huh. I’m thinking we need to go bowling a whole lot more.”
Jordan threw him a laugh as we all started heading out.
Bren slid off the table.
I considered just grabbing her, and lifting her, but I didn’t think she’d want the spectacle.
Then it wasn’t an issue.
She walked beside me, and Jordan took her other arm. Zellman went ahead of us, opening the doors, and once we were moving down the one hall, I tossed him my keys. He hurried ahead, and had the truck waiting for us as we walked outside to the parking garage. Once in the truck, Bren and I went to the back. I sat sideways and pulled her down so she was lounging against my chest.
We drove a few blocks before she said to the silence, “I called my dad to town. He came because of me, and I was supposed to have dinner with him tonight. Him and Channing.”
No one said a word.
We waited.
And Bren ended with, “It’s time I dealt with him being back.”
I took her hand, my fingers sliding against her.
Zellman was driving, but he was looking in the rearview mirror at us.
Jordan shifted, reaching back. He touched her knee lightly. “We’re all here for that, you know.”
Her head rolled toward him, and I glimpsed the top of her smile. It was almost washed out, still a little of that intoxicated look. “I know.” She reached for his hand and fitted hers against his, palm to palm.
That’s how we drove back to the house.
BREN
“I want to see her!”
A strangled sounding yell woke us up the next morning. Cross flipped over in bed, his feet hitting the floor a second later. He grabbed pants and then he was up, flying out the door, and I could hear him running down the stairs. My guess, he was taking three steps at once and then bam. He was on the main floor. The fact he wasn’t trying to be quiet spoke to how worried he was, but I could’ve told him not to be.
I recognized that yell.
I would’ve recognized that yell any day, any time, anywhere.
My dad was here.
And then, like a bad déjà vu moment, I heard my brother’s voice responding right back. His was low and muffled, but it was there, and even up here, even with a concussion, I knew he was pissed. This had been my life for so many years until Channing moved out.
I took a deep breath. One breath. And then I sat up, ignoring the pounding in my head.
I had had concussions before. This wasn’t anything new. I knew the protocol. Knew what I had to do, couldn’t do, but heading downstairs and making sure that either or both of my family members didn’t leave was one thing I could do. I moved slower, gingerly, because fuck, my vision was still wonky. Grabbing some shorts, a bra, and a shirt, I padded barefoot out to them.
No one heard me coming.
Well, no one except Zellman who was coming out of his bedroom.
He was standing at the top of the stairs, only in boxers, and I saw some scratches on his back that I didn’t need to see. There was movement inside his room, and I looked. A girl stared back at me, her hair a mess. She blinked a few times, lines around her eyes soft from sleep, and then she rolled back over, taking the bedsheet with her.
It was the nurse from the ER, and I didn’t even want to know how that had transpired.
I mean, I knew how.
When?
Never mind.
I moved up behind Z, and he glanced at me, moving so there was room. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I said back.
We were both talking in muted tones.
There was more talking happening downstairs, all quieter than before. Cross had joined the conversation, and I heard the squeak of another door. Recognizing the basement door, Jordan was about to either join the convo, get coffee, or head back downstairs. A beat later, he passed by the stairs and glanced up. Doing a double take, he changed courses and came up.
He nodded at Z, leaning against the wall and folding his arms over his chest. Instead of boxers, he was wearing only pajama pants. They were slipping low on his hips and his eyes took me in, staying on the side of my face the longest. “What are you doing up here?”
Right.
I forgot.
“You guys had people over last night. Cross thought we’d sleep better up here. The sounds, you know.”
He cringed. “Sorry. I didn’t even think of that.”
I shrugged. “Usually you’re fine. No big deal.”
“How are you feeling this morning?”
I lied, “Better.”
Both started laughing.
“Such a shitty liar, Bren.” Jordan tsked, grinning, but he nodded toward the bottom of the stairs. “Should we wade in?”
There was sound behind us, coming from Zellman’s room. The bed creaked, padding barefoot, and then his bathroom door shut on a similar sounding creak like the basement door.
