Page 35 of Jonesing for a Spy

My brother’s head snaps back, and his eyes go wide.

I go on, nodding to the phone at his chest. “And if Charlie missed a word of that, you can relay the message.”

I spin on a heel and leave the room, moving down the far hallway to the back, exiting the house and taking the stairs to my apartment two at a time. Fuck this.

My brothers would never do this to each other. Untrue. They would absolutely invade each other’s spaces and overstep boundaries. But they would have the luxury of punching each other, calling it good, and walking off a black eye or a bruised jaw for a couple of days as a reminder.

I don’t have that. They’d never defend themselves. And they’d sure as fuck never hit back. That’s not fair. Though, truth be told, I don’t want to hit them, and I never want to be on the receiving ends of one of their blows.

No matter, they have to learn to show some respect. My big, nosy family is wonderful… most of the time. The fact that Mikey would come to check says so much. That’s not the problem. It’s the pointed lack of respect when it comes to my private life.

The door latch snicks behind me, and the voice hitting my ears isn’t who I expect. “Scooter?”

Relief and annoyance war within me. I turn to face my burly brother. “What?” It’s not anger. It’s exhaustion and defeat.

“You have to know⁠—”

I raise my eyebrows in warning.

“You get this is hard on me, hard on us, don’t you?”

“Do not blame your bad behavior on me, Mikey. Your shit isn’t my responsibility.”

“That right there”—he extends a hand—“it’s hard seeing the woman you are while somewhere in my head, you’re also thirteen and crying over a boy in school whose ass I’ll have to kick.”

“Again, you’re making it my problem.”

“Mirri… You’ll always be my baby sister. You’ll always be mine to protect. I felt that way when you were overseas. I’m glad I didn’t know, frankly. I felt so impotent unable to help you. That man”—his head tilts to the house—“what am I supposed to do with finding you like that?”

“What would you do with Jamie or Johnny?”

“You’re not Jamie or Johnny. You can be pissed about it, but you’ll never be them. You’re you.” His eyes slice to slits. “With a hickey.”

I lift my hand to cover my pulse point. “You know I’m not a virgin, right?”

Mikey covers his ears, singing, “La la la la la la.”

That forces a smile to my face. I mime removing the earmuffs. “It’s not about you interrupting. It’s about you not accepting when I said I didn’t want company.”

“I got it.” He shakes his head. “Or I’m getting it. But you know how we are.”

“I do. Which is why I rarely make the kind of stink I did. If I care enough to tell you, you have to care enough to listen.”

“Come here.” He opens his arms wide, and I fold into them. “Love you, Scooter.” Pulling me tight, he dips his body enough that my face ends up in his armpit. “Get some of that,” he says from above me. “That’s for me walking in on you with no pants on.”

I grab his ribs. Since he’s notoriously ticklish, this works to extricate me from my predicament, but it creates a new one.

“Hey! What’s going on?” Strider is through the door and almost to my side when a crack pierces the air.

“Shit.” His hand covers his jaw just as Mikey rubs his elbow. “Fuck.”

I shake my head, sliding around my brother to the man who came to what? Butt in? Or save me?

“Are you okay?” I cup Strider’s jaw over his own hand. “Let me get you some ice.”

His eyes laser in on my brother. “First tell me you’re okay. It looked like he was manhandling you, and it sounded like…” He shakes his head. “Well?”

Mikey lifts his arms and drops them at his side. “You ever need a job, my team could use you. You took a hit and kept standing.”