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TRENTON
Once we calmed Tucker down and on his way to talk things through with Andrew, and Oliver left for work just a little bit later than normal, I decided to visit Henley. He’s the quietest of my brothers and I could use the quiet after dealing with Tucker’s front page news.
Henley is a gamer. And somehow he’s managed to find a way to make a living doing it. I don’t even pretend to understand how it all works, but he gets to do what he loves every day, and I’m happy for him.
“Hey Hen,” I greet him when he answers his door. His face is scrunched in confusion, and it makes me smile.
“Is there something I forgot to do for the wedding?” he asks.
“No. I’m just here to visit.”
“Um, okay. Come in. I’m in the middle of a round of Valorant, so I’ll be a few minutes.”
I nod. “Take your time. I actually came for the quiet. I’m sure you’ll hear about it soon, but Tucker has had some excitement today.”
“I haven’t… I mean, I’ve been busy.”
“It’s okay, Hen. Go finish your game.”
I follow Henley into the living room. No matter how many times I visit, I’m still amazed at the gaming setup he has. The man owns every gaming system you can think of, even an old school Nintendo.
“Hey guys, sorry about that. My brother came to visit,” Henley says as he slides a headset onto his head. “No, not Davis. Trenton. The one who is getting married.”
Hmm. Why would his online friends ask about Davis?
“I do not. Now shut up and play the game,” Henley shouts.
“You don’t what?” I ask.
He rolls his eyes and mutes his mic, but keeps his focus on the game. “These guys seem to think I have a thing for Davis. Like anyone could like that insufferable man.”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes. There’s something between Henley and Davis, has been since we were kids. The kind of something that almost looks like dislike to an outsider. I’m not sure if either will ever take it further than the tension that simmers when they are in the same room, but I’m sure if they did, the results would be explosive.
Before I can question him about Davis and why his friends think he likes him, or why he's so adamant to dislike our brother, Henley clicks his mic back on and starts in on one of the players who just died and put their winning streak in jeopardy.
Smiling to myself, I let my body sink onto the couch and close my eyes. Thoughts of the wedding and my best man fade to the back of my mind as I relax to the sound of tinny gunfire and Henley’s shouts. Not a relaxing combination to think about, but somehow they work to lull me into a sense of peace and calm. Exhaustion weighs heavily on me after the almost endless wedding preparation over the last several months, and sleep pulls me under within minutes.
The sound of quiet talking wakes me sometime later. When I blink open my eyes, I notice that Henley has a different game on his screen, frozen on a first person point of view image of a man’s hand holding a gun. If I had to guess, I’d say it is one of the Resident Evil games.
“Henley,” I call out to let him know I’m awake. I search the room until I find him standing on the other side of the room with a phone in his hand.
“Are you on the phone with someone?” I ask. “Wait. Is that my phone?”
“Yeah,” he says sheepishly. “Oliver was calling, and I didn’t want him to worry if you didn’t answer. You were sleeping so soundly you didn’t seem to know your phone was going off.”
“What did he want? Is something wrong?” I finally sit up fully as I run all the worst-case scenarios in my head of why Oliver was calling.
“Uh, dunno. He didn’t say. Probably something private. He said it could wait and not to wake you.”
Henley walks over with my phone in his outstretched hand. I take it, curious as to what Oliver wanted. Then I remember that he went to see Davis after work to ask about Scarlet.
“Did he mention anything about Davis?”
“Davis? No. Why would we talk about Davis?” Henley says, a bit too defensive if you ask me.
“Calm down, little brother. He went to see Davis. I thought maybe he mentioned it. Why do you two always act like the other is the bane of your existence?”
“Because he is the bane of my existence. If I hear about how I need a real job one more time, I might commit homicide. You’ll have one less brother to worry about. Why does he care what job I have anyway?”
