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‘Fine, but it can’t go on for ever. What you need is just as important as what he needs. Remember that.’
‘Hey, you want a hand with that?’
Monroe looked up from the lawnmower to see his brother walking towards him across the freshly mown grass. He wiped his forearm across his brow as he stood up.
‘All finished,’ he said. ‘I’m just gonna haul these clippings over to the garage. The garbage truck will get them tomorrow.’
Drawing level, Linc grabbed one of the sacks. ‘Let me take one.’
Monroe bent to tie up the other. They walked in silence across the lawn with the cumbersome garbage bags in their a
rms. Monroe waited for his brother to speak. He could feel the sweat trickling down his back. It was a hot day; the mid-afternoon heat was a killer. He should have waited until evening to mow the lawn, but he’d been antsy ever since his brother and his family had got back from New York.
‘Why didn’t you come over for lunch? Ali was expecting you.’ Linc’s voice was neutral.
Monroe threw his bag into the large trash receptacle in the garage. ‘Couldn’t. Got caught up doing the lawn.’
Linc dumped his own bag into the bin. He slammed the lid down and then whipped around to face Monroe. ‘That’s bull.’ He didn’t sound neutral any more; he sounded good and pissed. ‘Nobody asked you to do the damn lawn.’
Monroe’s own temper spiked. ‘I told you I’m not a damn freeloader—’
Linc held up a hand. ‘Can it. I’m not arguing about that again.’
‘I’m not the one who brought it up again.’ Monroe bit the words out.
Linc dragged a hand through his hair, huffed out a breath. He didn’t look angry any more, just miserable. ‘Hell, Roe, why don’t you come out and say it?’
‘Say what?’ Monroe felt a trickle of guilt.
‘I screwed up. I know that,’ Linc replied. ‘I shouldn’t have tried to give you the gift at Emmy’s party. It was too soon. You weren’t ready.’
‘It’s not that,’ Monroe said, the trickle now a bitter torrent.
‘You don’t have to pretend with me, Roe. I know we don’t know each other. But we were brothers once. I wanted you to remember. I was pushing you. I shouldn’t have.’
Seeing the torment in his brother’s face, hearing it in his voice, Monroe knew he couldn’t hold out any longer.
‘I do remember.’ He watched Linc’s eyes jerk to his, saw the rush of emotion in them. ‘I remember you always gave me birthday cards. Some of the ugliest drawings I’ve ever seen in my life.’
Linc shrugged. ‘I was never much of an artist.’ His gaze was intent on Monroe’s.
‘I remember when I was ten.’ Monroe’s voice cracked a little, he cleared his throat. ‘The last one you ever gave me. You said it was the Silver Surfer. Looked more like an icebox with wings.’
‘Hey, I thought that was one of my best.’
‘It meant something, Linc.’
Linc nodded, but didn’t say anything.
Monroe swallowed, forced himself to continue. ‘When you gave me that gift by the pool, it brought it all back. How it was when you were there, what it was like afterwards, when you weren’t.’
Linc sighed. ‘Hell, I didn’t mean to bring all that back, Roe. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be an ass.’ Monroe’s words were sharp, angry. ‘It’s always there. So what? It doesn’t mean a damn thing any more. You took me by surprise, that’s all. The duffel bag’s great, by the way. Just what I needed.’ Seeing the pleasure in his brother’s face, Monroe realised he should have said something much sooner. ‘Thanks. It’s the best birthday present I’ve ever had.’
Linc put his hand on Monroe’s shoulder, squeezed and then let go. ‘Not better than the Silver Surfer card, surely?’ His voice was thick with emotion.
Monroe grinned. ‘You got me there—maybe not quite that good. But pretty damn close.’
