Page 15 of Left of Forever

“You sure you’re good?” I ask.

He heaves an exasperated sound. “You caught me, brother. I’m battling with jealousy over how nimble Martha O’Doyle is. When I try to get down on my knees like that, the skin on my right leg feels like Saran Wrap stretched over hot meat.”

“Jesus, Si.”

“Speaking of old people in love and lust,” he says. “You seeing someone? I’m still trying to suss out why you’ve been so—elusive.”

“I’m barely three years older than you, and once again, youaskedme to back off.” I take a hearty gulp of beer.

“Yes, but you look, sound, and act ancient. And I noticed you didn’t answer me,” the little shit replies.

“I—”

Fisher slides a bowl in front of each of us, cutting me off before I have a chance to lie. I’m not sure what I want to divulge to Silas yet.

“Carrot jalapeño soup,” says Fisher. “To start.”

“Do you have salt, pepper, and hot sauce on hand?” Silas asks, and if looks could kill, Fisher would be leveling him. “Damn, just kidding, Boyardee. I like your earring, by the way. Where’s the other one, though?” He swizzles his spoon around the soup. “Not gonna find it in my meal, am I?”

Fisher’s face turns smug. “Your sister’s wearing it,” he says. “She’s been wearing it since it fell out once at her house.” Silas’s lipcurls. “As far as how that happened? I’ll let you use your imagination.” He pats Silas on the back and turns to me. “Sorry, Ellis.”

“It’s fine.” I laugh, and Silas frowns at Fisher’s retreating form.

“Serves you right. You’re being annoying,” I say.

He finishes his beer. “No,you’reannoying. Something is up with you, I know it,” he spits. “Sage isn’t the only one who gets weird, witchy feelings, all right? I canfeelwhen something is off with you.” He moodily slurps his soup, his eyes narrowing in pain when he fidgets in his seat again.

His statement, though… it makes the beer turn bitter in my mouth. Like I’ve failed again if I can’t shield him from my pain, too.

“You don’t need to worry about me right now, Si. Worry about you and healing up.”

His spoon clatters against the porcelain bowl. “Dammit, Ellis. You’re not my parent anymore. Talk to me like your fucking brother.”

I lean back in my seat and search his stony face. He’s right; I do default to parenting him, and I could use someone to talk to. The problem is that I know he’d be caught in the middle of his friendship with Wren and his loyalty to me, so I’d have to be selective about what I told him. I clear my throat, train my gaze on the hand that’s wrapped around my beer glass, my thumb wiping circles in the condensation.

“I miss Wren,” I quietly admit. “I want her back.”

He’s silent for too long. When I look at him again, it’s clear I’ve surprised him. “Sorry,” he says. “I—that wasn’t what I was expecting.”

I shake my head irritably. “Still working out the kinks in your brotherly premonitions, I take it? What the hellwereyou expecting?”

Fisher appears again and unceremoniously plops a basket ofbread on the table. “Bread,” he declares flatly. “With Calabrian chili butter, basil butter, and hot honey butter.” He spins away again.

I haul everything to my side before Silas can reach for it, and give him a pointed look. “Well?”

He sighs through his nose. “Honestly, I thought you were seeing someone, and it was turning serious or something and you were afraid to tell me because you know Wren and I are close.”

I let the bread go, pushing it to the middle of the table. “That is why I was hesitant to tell you, but… yeah. Wrong conclusion,” I say.

He crosses his arms, calculating. “Why now? Why, after four years?”

I can’t bring myself to tell him about the letters. How they unlocked something I’d barely kept at bay. It feels shameful, like I’ve stolen something. “I don’t know,” is what I say instead. It’s still the truth, even if it’s only part of it. “I’m still figuring it out.”

He grabs a piece of bread from the basket and angrily slathers the hot honey butter across it. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” he says, before he drops the knife and shakes his head. “Sorry. I’m grateful you’re opening up to me, all right? I don’t want to make you feel like you can’t. But your timing is fucking trash, Ellis.” He takes an oversized bite and continues to speak around it. “And I don’t think you’re in touch enough with your feelings to knowwhatit is you want.”

“The fuck does that mean, Silas?”

“Think about it,” he says, swallowing forcefully. “This is just you wanting something—familiar, or something. You’re unmoored, and she’s the one familiar thing on the horizon or some shit.”