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“I’m going outside for a smoke. Want to join me, sis, before you go?” Layne asks, standing from his seat.
“Count me in,” I say, following him onto the deck. The light of the moon reflects on the stream, and the wind slowly rustles through the trees while we walk to the edge of the porch.
“I still can’t get used to this place,” my brother says, taking a seat on the porch swing, lighting a cigarette.
“No? You don’t like the ski mansion meets Batman cave?” I grin, sitting next to him. Layne kisses the top of my head. “About what you said before when we were yelling at each other in the parking lot at the party.” He hesitates, blowing out the smoke through his nose.
“We both said things we didn’t mean,” I say, hugging my knees to my chest.
“That we, or I still look at you, like you should have been the one caught in the avalanche,” he rasps, his voice cracking.
“I was angry, Layne. I didn’t mean to say that,” I whisper.
“I’m sorry for making you feel that way. I never meant to,” he says, staring at his cigarette.
I lay my temple against his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Layne.”
He leans his head against mine. “I’m sorry too,” he says, taking another drag. “I heard they gave you his bike.”
“Yeah, are you disappointed you didn’t get it?”
“Why would I be?” he asks. “You love the bike as much as he did. Ronnie loved spending those moments building it with you. He would have wanted you to be happy.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Here,” he says, handing me a coconut water from his jacket pocket. “Stole it from the kitchen.”
I raise it in the air before tasting the drink.
“Mom and Dad have weird tastes,” he says, making a disgusted face when he takes a small sip of his drink.
“That they do.” I chuckle, slowly rocking back and forth in the swing.
“I know you’ve been on the run these last ten years, sis. Going to Harvard, locking yourself behind your computer in Seattle, working on your brand. Believe me, I’m proud of you, but this is also you. The woods, the snow. This life has always been yours. You still have a stake in the company, and I would love for you to come on board.”
“I don’t know, Layne,” I mutter, staring at my hands.
“Think about it. You might grow to like it here again with your new dude and all.” He snickers.
“It’s just fun, Layne.”
“What does he think about it ‘just’ being fun?” he drawls, bumping his shoulder against mine.
“Same, you know how guys like him are,” I say, a slow smile spreading across my face, thinking about last night, the way he kissed me and held me while we talked about his race. His eyes sparkled while he explained what he did in the halfpipe. I could see his face light up when he explained his tricks in detail, and I loved seeing that look on his face.
“Is it going somewhere?” he asks, more serious this time.
“Fuck, I don’t know, Layne,” I confess, taking a swig from the drink. “He’s fun, carefree, and intense.”
“We’re all intense, sis,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. “We’re Kurtons, for crying out loud.”
“Jesse reminds me of Ronnie, and it scares me shitless,” I confess.
“What do you mean?”
“They both live for the ride, and nothing matters except that,” I tell him, staring up at the full moon.
He nods, focusing on the drink in his hands.
