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“I’ll let you know when it happens for me.”
Hunter snorted, but there was zero humor behind it.
“You could still run the race,” said Gabriel.
“It’s a month away. I’m not in shape.”
“I didn’t say you could win the race.”
Hunter didn’t say anything.
Gabriel spun his water bottle on the ground, watching the fractured sunlight turn the grass different shades of green. “I’m the only one of my brothers who gets up early. My mom did, too.
She used to drink coffee and play board games with me until the others woke up.” When he’d turned ten, she’d started making him a cup of coffee, too, filling half the mug with milk and two tablespoons of sugar before adding any coffee at all. He still drank it the same way.
“The morning after the funeral, I came down to the kitchen. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, like there’d be coffee in the pot and a game of Sorry set up on the table or something.”
He paused. “Nothing. Just an empty kitchen. I think that’s when it really hit me.”
Hunter still didn’t say anything.
Gabriel glanced over. “So I made coffee.”
He’d set up the game, too, for whatever reason. Then he’d sobbed into his mug for forty-five minutes, until his coffee went cold and Michael found him sitting there. Gabriel had been worried his brother would bitch about the coffee or the crying or something he rarely needed a reason in those days.
But Michael had just poured himself a cup of coffee and pushed the dice across the table. “You go first.”
Gabriel didn’t want to talk about any of that. “All I’m saying is” he shrugged “if you were going to run the race, maybe you should run the race.”
“Maybe,” said Hunter. He’d peeled almost the entire label off his water bottle.
This was getting too heavy. Gabriel leaned in. “Dude. Seriously, if you start crying, people are going to think I’m breaking up with you.”
Hunter looked up. A smile broke through the emotion. “The way you run, they’d be more likely to think I’m breaking up with you.”
“You can kiss my ass.” His phone chimed, and Gabriel didn’t even want to look at it. Probably Michael, whining about some job.
No, but a number he didn’t recognize.
Were you serious about today? Layne
Layne! Gabriel sat straight up.
“Who’s Layne?” asked Hunter, reading over his shoulder.
Gabriel shoved him away and typed back.
Absolutely serious.
Her response took fifteen agonizing seconds.
My dad has to work this afternoon, and Simon is going to
see our mom.
He smiled.
Are you inviting me over?
