AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His belief in me was as satisfying as his desire to have me around. I fell asleep that night dreaming of what I might make first.
* * *
—
Over the next week, I went to Dane’s nearly every night after work. The days when he went right to the gym and the grocery store after his meeting, I’d let myself in with the key he kept under the mat. I was scandalized at how dangerous that seemed, but Dane just shrugged, reminded me his was the only apartment above the bar, and squared his shoulders as if he couldn’t imagine anyone daring to transgress his brute strength and intimidation, which I found both charming and exasperating.
I liked it best when I got there and he was cooking dinner and listening to a podcast. He’d tug me against his side for a quick squeeze as he chopped or sautéed.
One day, he’d been listening to a podcast about Ada Lovelace and the birth of the computer, and I started sketching ideas for a display I’d make if a museum were doing an exhibit on her. How I’d lay out the pieces of the story so that the information was encountered in the right order, but the whole exhibit could be moved through in other ways too. Before I finished planning that one, Dane put on a podcast about the Hells Angels at Altamont, and my mind began to wander in that direction, my sketches following.
By the end of the week, I’d sketched four different ideas for exhibits based on the metric ton of information that had been delivered to my brain secondhand and had yet to decide which I’d turn into a diorama.
“You really must know everything,” I said at dinner, low-key sulking about my indecision and lack of progress. “You listen to podcasts about literally everything. No wonder you win Quizzo.”
Dane winked at me, unbothered by my grouchiness. “Yup. I know everything, so you should always listen to me.”
“I do listen to you,” I grumbled.
Dane tugged my chair closer to his and ran a soothing hand up and down my back.
“The diorama stuff was supposed to be fun,” he said softly. “Didn’t mean for it to stress you out.”
I shook my head. “It is fun,” I insisted.
“Yeah,” he snorted. “Seems like you’re having a blast.”
I sighed but couldn’t argue. It was stressing me out. What had once been fun and exciting had turned into the spit I used to roast myself for feeling like I was failing. It wasn’t Dane’s fault, though. It was all on me.
“You talked to Sofia lately?” he asked softly, still stroking my back, pressing a little harder on either side of my spine in a way that made me purr.
“Mm-hmm, this afternoon on my break. She leaves in a week.”
My heart started pounding as I said it. Sofia had only been home a few nights over the last couple weeks, and only two of them had been nights that I’d been home too. It had almost felt strange to encounter her there.
Even so, I was dreading her leaving. I hated the idea of her being in a whole different state than me. What if something went wrong? What if she needed me and I wasn’t there?
I buried my face in Dane’s neck.
“You gonna spend some time with her before she leaves?” he asked gently.
“If she even wants to see me,” I said, sounding bitter and petty even to myself. I hated that I felt this way. “Ugh, just tell me to shut up, please. I sound like a whiny asshole.”
Dane squeezed me tighter.
“You don’t sound like a whiny asshole. Sounds like she takes for granted that you’ll be there when she needs you but never thinks to check what you need.”
That caught me off-guard.
“Huh?”
Dane eyed me evenly.
“I know she’s your sister and your best friend. But she’s being selfish.”
“She’s not selfish,” I insisted, leaning away from him. “This is all so new for her, and she’s really busy.”
“I’m sure.”
“And—and it’s a lot of pressure on her, as the new person in the band.”
“Yeah.”
“It would take so much time to come home every night and then go back there in the morning, and it’s not like she has to be home to take care of me or anything. So I get why she stays over.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“So, so, so she’s not selfish,” I concluded, arms crossed over my chest and glaring at Dane.
His expression was neutral, but there was something in his eyes that made my breath catch. Pity or sympathy, or something else quiet and kind that hurt just a little.
He said softly, “And does knowing that all those things might be true make you feel better about not seeing her?”
I blinked at him as his words settled into me. The habit of defending Sofia, of identifying with her, was ingrained. I just hadn’t thought I’d be defending her to myself.
