Page 102 of If the World Was Ending

“What? No? Really?” Brodie gasped all three words as Colby cracked the first egg into the bowl, which was made more difficult by the fact that he was high and his head was tilted sideways. A piece of shell got in the bowl, and a gooey blob of egg white slipped onto the counter. It reminded Colby of jizz, and that reminded Colby of Hunter, and that made Colby sad and annoyed. “What did she say about that infamous day? I’ve tried to talk to her about it, and she always changes the subject or just flat out acts like I’m making it up.”

“Yeah. Well, she wasn’t pretending this time,” Colby said and cracked the second egg. It went more smoothly. “She admitted what Dad did was wrong and that she’s been wrong this whole time too. I mean, it was a lot of projectile word vomit, but it was authentic, you know?”

“I don’t know,” Brodie replied. “I don’t think she’s been authentic with me a day in her life. But that’s cool, Colb. Like really cool. You deserve for them to admit they fucked up with you.”

“Not them. Her,” Colby corrected and mentally pushed away Brodie’s words. He didn’t want sympathy from him or to bond with him. “Anyway, it’s more than you ever did.”

“I’ve told you I’m sorry countless times, Colb,” Brodie replied. “And I wake up feeling like shit about it still. But I can’t keep chasing you for forgiveness. You don’t want to give it, and it’s your right.”

“You stood there while Dad berated me and did nothing.”

“I was in shock,” Brodie returned as Colby plucked a fork from the mason jar on the counter where they kept their tiny collection of cutlery and dropped it into the bowl with the raw eggs and started to whisk.

“I spent another year there, getting the cold shoulder from Dad and with internet locks on all my devices, and I told you the truth. You heard Atlas admit he threw me under the bus, and you did nothing,” Colby reminded him. “You didn’t tell Dad. You didn’t tell Mom. You didn’t tell Atlas to tell them.”

“I ragged on Atlas all the time, Colb. Didn’t you know that? I swear I did,” Brodie argued softly. “But yeah, I could have done more, and I should have.”

For the first time, something in Colby almost accepted his middle brother’s apology. But nah. “Yeah, you should have.” Colby paused and took a deep breath. Exhaling slowly, he decided to let go of it all. At least for now. “Anyway, I guess I’m going home for Christmas too, but only for a couple of hours on the day of. I don’t have a bedroom there anymore anyway.”

“You can have mine. I’ll sleep in the pool house.”

“I’ll just come home. I’m not spending another night in that house with him.”

“Fair. I get it. By the way, while I got you on the phone…” Brodie cleared his throat, and Colby bent to get a pan out of the drawer under the stove. “I wanted to say I’m really fucking stoked about your career. It’s amazing. You’re really great in that band, and I’m happy for you. I’m proud of you.”

The words had Colby frozen. Not a single person he’d shared blood with had said those words to him about his music. Or anything that mattered. He hated that he cared, but he did, and now there was a warmth seeping through his bloodstream. “Sure. Whatever.”

“You know I’m branching out. Not just an agent to athletes. I moved to Los Angeles too.”

He did what now? Colby froze for a second time. “You live in my town?”

“Yeah. And I rep two models and an influencer, and I’m looking to find some actors and musicians,” Brodie said casually. Too casually. Colby finally figured it out. Brodie was buttering up Colby. Either he wanted to rep Colby, or he wanted Colby to recommend him to his friends. Of course. He didn’t give a shit about Colby’s music. He just wanted a piece.

“An agent needs to have trust with their client, and I can’t trust you.” Colby dropped the frying pan onto the stove with a clatter. If Trevor had been napping, he likely wouldn’t be now.

“No. Yeah. I get that. I wasn’t suggesting… No. Colb, I sincerely just wanted to share my life update,” Brodie said quickly, nervously. “I don’t expect to rep you, I swear. I was just going to say since I’m local now, maybe we can grab lunch.”

“I don’t lunch,” Colby said in stupid defiance. “Gotta go. See you at Christmas, I guess.”

He hung up. He went about making the most sloppy, mediocre breakfast burrito, and all it did was make him miss Hunter more. And Trevor never bothered to wake up even after being called two more times, so he had to eat two subpar burritos himself. It was now after six. Surely the stupid video shoot was over. Hannah has said she would text him when she was done. Did she forget?

So are you happy? Video done and dusted? Did your guest star do good?

He busied himself with cleaning the kitchen while he waited for a response. In an effort to get his mind off Hunter, he thought about the upcoming performance he and Hannah would likely have to give at the Oscars in the spring. The nomination announcements won’t happen until next month, but Ford told him they had to figure it out now and that they should already be rehearsing. Many previous nominees had performed their songs in elaborate costumes, accompanied by backup singers. Some had orchestras join them. Ford kept hammering it home that they needed a hook, and they needed it fast. Colby had been lying awake brainstorming/stress thinking about that for the last week or so.

Hannah

Colbs, I know you know but that man of yours… Chef’s KISS

Colby's face contorted a whole bunch of ways when he read that. Because Hunter was not his man, and what the fuck did Chef’s kiss mean? Did she kiss him? Oh god, was his fake ex going to be making out on camera with his…

WTF does that mean? Are you kissing him? In the video?

Hannah took an infuriatingly long time to answer.

Hannah

No. We did the whole almost kiss thing instead of making out. Way more tension that way. Looks great.