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My heart is hammering in my chest. “The hell are you doing here?” I ask, squinting in the morning light. Timothy has the codes for everything and comes and goes without ever feeling the need to explain anything as basic as why the fuck he is in my bed. That’s not what I’m asking. I don’t understand why he’s here after everything that happened.
“You were talking in your sleep,” he says, ignoring my question.
“Didn’t bother your sister,” I mutter without thinking. The pain hits half a second after the last word leaves my mouth, a heavy weight settling on my chest.
I miss her.
He glances at me over the top of his phone. “Pretty sure she’d like to hear the shit you were just talking about. Made me a little uncomfortable though.”
I fall back onto my pillow with a groan.
“You love her.” He says it in a quiet, confident tone.
I’m done denying it, done pretending I don’t. “Yeah.” I exhale slowly. “Why are you here?”
“You’re my best friend,” he says, sounding wounded. “You left the group chat and didn’t return anyone’s calls. We wanted you to go get your shit together, not ghost us.”
“That’s not what it sounded like.” I dig the heel of my hands into my eyes. I know I’m being a dick. I was leaving them—they just agreed I should go.
“You aren’t going to lose me or my family if things don’t work out with you and Jessie. We sided with her because you were a jackass, but that doesn’t mean we don’t love you too.”
“How is she?”
“Why don’t you call her or fly home and see for yourself?”
I throw the blankets off and climb out of bed, pulling on yesterday’s sweatpants and T-shirt. “I have some shit to sort out first.”
“Good.” He doesn’t ask for specifics or give his opinions, and I don’t need them. I’m going to make my own choices, unrelated to how anyone else feels about them. I’ll probably mess up, but I seem to do that anyway. And it looks like I won’t be alone. I still have the Foleys.
Everything wells up inside, threatening to burst out, but I’m done crying. It’s time to sort my shit, not wallow in my misery. Been doing too much of that the last year.
Timothy gets out of my bed and comes to stand next to me, clapping a hand over my shoulder. “Hey. One other thing. I kept you and Jessie apart back in high school. Sorry about that.”
I laugh and head for the kitchen. Does he think I didn’t notice at the time? Timothy’s never been great at subtlety. He wasn’t willing to risk our friendship for his teenage crush on me. I wasn’t willing to risk it for what I thought was a passing crush on his sister.
“She was off-limits because she’s your sister,” I finally say, because he seems to be looking for some response.
Timothy smacks my arm. “She’s still my sister.”
“Yeah,” I say as we walk into the kitchen, “but now I don’t care.”
Celia drops the spatula on the counter, hurrying over to hug me. “How’s your head? We love you, honey, we weren’t kicking you out for good, we just wanted you to figure things out on your own, which it looks like you are.” She zips back to the stove before I can answer, scooping up the spatula and deftly flipping a pancake. “I had a look at your ideas for a show,” she says, nodding toward the notebook I left in the kitchen. “They’re good. Do you need some help with any of them?”
Of course, she looked at it. At least her reading the list saves me from having to explain everything.
It might be good to get her input on my ideas since she knows this corner of the industry like the back of her hand, but I’m still not sure which to pursue or what sort of role I envision myself in—on camera or off.
“Not yet,” I tell her.
“Oh, you left your charity painting at home, so we brought it, and—” Timothy picks something up from the bench and whips it at me. “How dare you abandon Captain Bearington?”
I catch the little stuffed bear on reflex when it slams into my chest. Guilt tightens my throat and I drop onto a barstool, setting the bear in front of me. I wouldn’t blame Jessie if she didn’t want to hear my apology. I don’t know how to fix this mess I’ve made.
And I’m late getting my painting to that auction too. Shit.
The bear’s cape is a little crooked, so I tug it back into place.
Timothy sets a cup of coffee in front of me and hovers near his mother.
