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'I just worry, Mia. I mean… dating some crazy rock star? Really?!'
He flicks my forehead, and I mock-slap his hand away from my face.
'I'm not dating any rock stars. Just shared a cup of coffee with one.'
And a kiss. We also shared a kiss. A soft, soft kiss. Let's not forget about that little tidbit.
Not that I would ever mention it to my insanely protective bear of a brother. He would be on his way to wave a gun at poor Carson's face before the night was over.
Jared shrugs.'Same difference.'
'Not at all. Besides, even if I were dating him, it wouldn't be something you should be sticking your nose in. I'm not a frail little baby anymore. I'm an adult. I can date a rock star if I want, Jared.'
My brother tweaks my nose as If I'm a three-year-old in a blatant attempt to undermine my words.
I glare at him.
He doesn't pay me any mind and keeps on signing:
'Sure, you're an adult Mia. I can't argue with that. You can date a rock star if you want. Hell, you could date a butcher, a baker, or a candlestick maker. I still wouldn't trust their sorry asses until they proved me otherwise. And FYI, worrying about a kid sister is the job description of any good brother that's worth the title. It doesn't mean I think of you as a little kid, okay? But you're always going to be my baby sister.'
I smile at him. Why is it that I can never stay mad at him even when he acts nosy and overbearing?!
'And you are always going to be my big brother, and I know you just worry because you care about me and want what's best for me, but please, just this once, mind your business, okay?'
Well, I guess I just answered my own question there. I can never stay pissed at him because he truly is the best brother in the world and only does what he does because he loves me, no matter how annoying he is in the process.
Jared laughs.'Not going to make any promises, sis. Are you staying for dinner?'
'Sure. Unless you think you can't even spare a single little square of the colossal lasagne that I made you, Bear.'
He gives me a playful shove.‘You make it sound as if I eat as much as a starving wild bear getting ready for winter.'
'Who, me? I would never dream of saying such a thing, Jar! We both know that, in fact, you could out-eat any wild bear if given the chance.'
* * *
I wakeup to the buzzing of my phone with a crick in my neck, and I look around, feeling disoriented for a moment.
Not my room. Not my bed. My brother's living room. His couch.
I vaguely remember Jared going upstairs after dinner. To wash up and check on his daughter, he said.
I stayed put, waiting for him to come back so I could help him tidy up the kitchen while we had our customary drink together —Scotch on the rocks for him, a cup of peppermint tea with a dollop of honey for me.
I remember settling back on the couch and reading outlandish explanations about the origin of the name of Carson's band for a few minutes, and then nothing. I've been sleeping so poorly since I met a certain insistent rock star that I must have fallen asleep almost right away.
There's a huge dark blue fleece blanket thrown over me.
So, I must have looked so pitiful to my brother that he decided not to wake me up at all.
My red laptop is folded closed and sitting on the coffee table near the black digital photo frame that's always on and what appears to be a little silver thermos that's probably filled with my poison of choice that I didn't get to drink after dinner —Jared is naturally thoughtful like that.
I study the frame for a moment. Pictures of Anna, my brother, and myself slide into view over and over in a loop, interspersed with old photos of our long-gone parents.
I look away, feeling the usual squeeze of pain.
My phone is still vibrating in the pocket of my purple jumper as I sit up, keeping the warm blanket around me.
