Chapter 18
“What the fuck are you doing?” Reece’s disgusted question jolted me out of my brooding.
I stood in front of the kitchen counter, a butter knife in hand, as I stared down at the peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwich I’d been making. Not for me. For Andrew.
Except I’d been thinking about Taryn. Again. How long had I been standing there?
Reece marched over and snatched the utensil from me. “Peanut butter goes on first, always, and make sure you clean the knife between uses. If I find one bit of fluff in my peanut butter, I’m going to tell Gavin about who actually broke the showerhead.”
I snorted. “He already knows. I told him right away. We just like to torture you.”
“Goddammit, I knew it,” Reece grumbled as he pulled the peanut butter out of my reach. “Why are you in here ruining the most perfect food?”
“Andrew wanted a sandwich.”
He pointed the knife at me. “That kid eats more than you do. He’s going to eat us out of house and home.”
I shrugged. “He’s growing or something. Kids eat a lot. Don’t you have a small country you can sell to recoup the costs?”
Reece looked thoughtful for a moment. “We’re not really using the beach house…”
“I’m covering his costs. You don’t need to worry about it.”
“Bullshit, my large friend. Andrew is one of us now, and as such, his eating habits are all of our concern.”
I might have freaked out when Andrew and I first came home.
Still reeling from the conversation with Taryn, I’d marched my sleepy little brother back here and tucked him in on our couch instead of hers with Sunny safely next to him.
Then I’d pounded on Reece’s door until Kenzie threatened to smother him if he didn’t answer it.
He’d taken one look at my wild eyes and returned to his room for his underlayers. At Reece’s insistence, we’d woken up Cole and taken Andrew with us to the rink. The kid was not happy, but he knew how to skate.
After an impromptu lesson on stick etiquette, we’d let him take some shots at an empty net. No one mentioned our early return or the lack of communication from the lawyer or my surprise warning about my dad. We just played on the ice until Reece’s stomach started rumbling.
Nothing could have settled me better, and they knew it.
At home, Andrew passed out again, and I confessed I had no idea what I was doing or where to start with a kid. Cole stepped up and made a list. School registration. New clothes. A plan for what to do around our schedules when we had to be gone—Stephen and Marco came in big there.
Then we just moved forward. Make a plan and execute with full confidence. Several days later and I still struggled with every decision.
“Have you talked to him?” Reece asked.
I watched his precision movements and shook my head. “What do I even say? Hey, sucks about Mom? I’m not even sure I’m sorry. She left me in the hands of a psycho, then used me so her favorite kid wouldn’t end up in the same place.”
“Maybe it’s not about you,” he pointed out calmly, aligning the bread perfectly before cutting it in half.
“Fuck you, man. I know he needs to talk to someone. It’s not his fault he got stuck in this position.”
“You’re right.” Reece met my eyes and used both hands to hold out the plate as if in offering. “It’s not your fault either. Something you have in common. Maybe start there. Or ask him about his favorite ninja.”
I groaned. “Not him too.” Next Best Ninja was Cole and Avery’s favorite show. Cole was never obnoxious about it, but if you mentioned it, he’d go on an hour-long rant about the latest episode. I could already feel my eyes rolling back in my head from boredom.
Yes, the ninja people were crazy talented, but the reality TV fake-drama bullshit always turned me off.
Reece laughed. “You should have seen the way he perked up when Cole mentioned the latest episode last night.”
I frowned. “When did that happen?”
“After you went downstairs to pretend to sleep. Andrew and Cole ended up watching a marathon of this season’s episodes so far.
Spoiler alert, the previous winner turned into a huge dick about anyone else finishing the course.
He…” Reece trailed off. “Right, forgot you don’t like fun. Anyway, I can’t do everything for you.”
He wiggled the plate, and I took it with a sigh.
“Thanks. I’ll consider your advice.” Job complete, I headed for the basement where Andrew waited.
“It sounds sarcastic when you say it like that,” Reece called after me.
I didn’t respond because while I had been sarcastic, I was also going to think about what he said. Which Reece knew.
Downstairs, Andrew lounged in my gaming chair clicking through YouTube videos on my desktop. Awesome. I’d have to retrain the algorithm to not show me ‘best ninja hacks of last year.’
We’d taken down my heavy bag, but the room was tight with the addition of a twin-sized mattress in front of the closet. It meant the only spots to sit were at my desk or on one of the beds, which was considerably less appealing to me while Andrew pretended not to watch me from four feet away.
“Here you go,” I said, putting the sandwich down in front of him.
Unlike me, he didn’t seem to get nervous when people approached, and he definitely didn’t mind being touched.
“Thanks,” he mumbled around a mouthful of bread, peanut butter, and marshmallow.
I winced. In hindsight, I should probably talk to the nutritionist about what a healthy diet looked like for a nine-year-old. According to my dad, it was whatever was left from his drive-thru, but even then I knew it wasn’t normal.
I shrugged off the memory of scarfing down two measly hours-old chicken nuggets and going to bed with my stomach rumbling. At least I could eat my fill at school.
“Listen,” I started, sitting down on the edge of my bed.
Andrew rotated the chair to face me, dropping crumbs across the carpet. With his full attention, I found myself at a loss for words. I braced my elbows on my legs and linked my fingers together.
“This is a good sandwich. Did Reece make it?” the little brat asked.
I frowned. “He helped.”
“Yours are fine,” he continued. “But this one is goated. Top tier ratios.”
I blinked, resolving to never let Reece know. His head was big enough already. “I’m glad you like it. Uh… what are you watching?”
“Nothing really. I was hoping Taryn would put out another video, but she’s been quiet this week.”
His casual use of her name slammed into my chest. “What do you know about Taryn’s videos?”
He scoffed. “She’s the best. I can’t get into her Twitch stream because it’s paywalled, but I can watch the recaps. Did you see her win that streamer speed run? The other guys were mid at best, but she was elite. I wish she’d compete again.”
He didn’t know he was about to get his wish, and I wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. Who knew how well a nine-year-old could keep a secret?
I raised a brow. “I didn’t know you were that into video games.”
Andrew shrugged. “Mom capped my play time, and she was pretty strict about what I could watch. She was always on me about acting better than the streamers. No yelling or insults. But like, sometimes I get excited. Then I’d get in trouble for pterodactyl noises, whatever that means.”
I knew exactly what she meant. The quick, high-pitched shriek I’d heard yesterday when I was trying to study upstairs. Andrew had been playing a game on my computer, and his teammate had made an epic save or something. Thus the shrieking followed by about a dozen repetitions of ‘bro’.
Normally, at any mention of Mom, I found somewhere else to be, but I put on my big boy pants and pushed through my discomfort.
“Is it the word ‘pterodactyl’ or ‘noises’ confusing you?”
Andrew sent me a withering stare. “I know what a pterodactyl is. I’m not a baby. There’s no way she could possibly know what it sounded like, so I shouldn’t get in trouble for making noises like a dinosaur no one has ever heard.”
His logic was sound. “Fair. Her problem was probably with the volume rather than the actual sound.” I’d nearly gone head over ass rushing down the stairs when I’d heard it.
He collapsed back against the chair that dwarfed him. “Figures you’d side with her.”
The accusation surprised me almost as much as him name-dropping Taryn. “Why?”
“She always said you were born to be responsible. We’d watch your games sometimes, near the end, and she’d talk about how you were always so serious as a kid. Like fun wasn’t interesting to you.”
I forgot you don’t like fun. Reece’s words came back around to smack me in the face. Followed immediately by the shock of realizing Mom watched my games. I swallowed hard, flooded by emotions I didn’t want to acknowledge, let alone name.
“Why aren’t you more upset she’s dead?” Not a very sensitive question to ask him, but at least I was talking.
He looked down at his lap. “I am, but I can’t change it. Can I tell you something?”
“Sure, man. Anything.” I tried to sit normally, but I was super aware of my hands. How was I supposed to act while bonding with my kid brother?
“She was really sick. Grandma Katie was there, but not really. She mostly stayed at the house and complained. Mom’s friend, Jesse, drove me back and forth to the hospital so I could sit with her.”
I stayed silent as he paused, tapping the leather armrests of my chair with his fingers. Tears started to fall down his face.
“I got scared. She couldn’t keep her eyes open.
When she tried to hug me, she couldn’t lift her arms. Half the time, she didn’t know who I was.
After a while, I didn’t want to go anymore.
I didn’t want her to be alone, but I didn’t want to watch her die either.
She was… she wasn’t Mom. Mom was already gone. ”
Andrew sniffled and wiped his face, then smeared it on his pants.
Despite the yawning hole in my chest demanding I get the fuck out of there, I hit my knees in front of him and gently pulled him against my chest. Andrew curled his arms around my neck and held on.
Hot tears hit my shoulder at a steady pace.
“She wasn’t alone when she needed it. You were there for her. You didn’t abandon her.” I choked out the words. “I’m sorry she’s not here for either of us, but we’re here for each other, okay?”
He nodded, wiping his wet face against my shirt.
“She would have been proud of you for being so strong.” At this point, I wasn’t sure if I was talking to him or myself. Tears pricked at my eyes, and the smell of sugar and peanut butter wafted up to me. “I’m glad you had the time with her before you came here.”
“Especially because my big bro doesn’t like fun,” he muttered, better than me at relieving tension.
I laughed and let him go when he pulled away to swivel back and forth in my chair. Nothing could have prepared me for the come to Jesus talk we’d just had, but I felt lighter. Like the night I’d told Taryn the truth, before all this shit fell down on me.
Andrew watched me with shiny, expectant eyes. “Does this mean we can hang out with Taryn again? Because she’s fun.”
“I like fun,” I blurted out, in an ill-fated attempt to cover how much I missed her.
The tightness in my chest was no joke, and I wanted to give in on the pretense of Andrew’s request. I wanted her sassy tongue and her no-nonsense attitude and her warm body curled up next to me at night.
It would be easy to say yes, and with the conversation I’d just had, I wanted a re-do on how I’d reacted to her suggestion my mom might not be a heartless bitch after all.
Now wasn’t the time though, Stephen would be at the house soon, and the rest of us were leaving for an away game. I needed to make sure Andrew was solid and handled before we could leave.
Sunny, the perfect excuse to change the subject from Taryn, waddled out of the closet with a sock in her mouth as she headed toward a pile of my stolen laundry.
I pointed at her. “See? I have a pet duck who’s a notorious thief and can spell. That’s fun.”
Andrew wrinkled his nose. “Sorry, bro. Sunny is fun. You’re…” He cocked his head, studying me. “You’re her dad.”
He nodded as if the description answered everything. I wasn’t willing to let it go so easily.
“When I get back, we’re doing a Citadel marathon until you can play circles around those assholes on YouTube.”
He grinned. “You’re on. Then we can show Taryn how good we are as a team. Maybe she’ll put us on her stream.” The more he thought about it, the more excited he got, bouncing in the chair.
I stood up and admitted defeat. Taryn was a regular topic of conversation here, and it wasn’t Andrew’s fault. I couldn’t go ten seconds without thinking about her either.
“Great. Back to your brain rot then. I have to pack.”
Andrew giggled and spun the chair back around.
Out of curiosity, I hazarded a question. “Where does Taryn rate on the fun scale?”
He didn’t bother turning. “Near the top. Not as high as Sunny because snacks, but probably an eight.”
I didn’t understand, and remembering the pterodactyl logic, I was too afraid to ask any more questions. Andrew’s mind was sneaky.
“I can be fun,” I muttered, dragging out clean clothes for the two away games.
“Not like Taryn,” he countered.
I nodded silently behind him. No one was like Taryn.