CHAPTER 22 #2
“I said I don’t want anybody in this kitchen.
” Ian looked up from the spread on the black granite countertop, where he had everything he needed to assemble what was supposed to be a surprise: Norwegian cream cake.
He glowered at his older brother, who had cracked open the door and stuck his head in.
“I’m not just anybody, Buck.” Adam spotted what was on the counter and immediately broke into the smile he flashed as a kid when their grandmother brought out the delicious dessert. “You’re making Bl?tkake?”
“Don’t sound so surprised.” Out of all the Larssen kids, Ian had developed a genuine passion for cooking at a young age while learning from his grandmother, and now he did it well. He grabbed his long slicing knife and began cutting the round sponge cake into three horizontal layers.
Adam stepped into the kitchen and closed the door behind him. “You’ve never baked before.”
“Correction: I’ve never baked for you before. I wasn’t going to have it end up in the trash.” Ian knew Adam was strict about his diet and rarely ate dessert. “This was especially for Eve. She asked me to make it.”
Adam’s eyes sparked with hunger as he regarded the stainless container of chilled vanilla custard. “Need some help?”
“Sure.” Ian carefully lifted the first layer and set it aside on a sheet of parchment paper. He motioned with his chin toward a bowl of strawberries. “Slice those.”
“All right.” Adam quickly washed his hands, then reached into a lower cabinet and found a cutting board.
“You outdid yourself this time. Five dishes, now this.” He opened the drawer to get a knife, then paused to fix Ian with his heavy stare.
“You always cook when something’s weighing on you.
” He motioned toward the dirty pots and dishes piled high in the twin sinks. “That looks like a mountain.”
“Feels like one too,” Ian muttered.
Sympathy flashed in Adam’s eyes. For a few moments, the only sound in the kitchen was the rhythmic chop of his knife.
Ian placed the bottom layer on a cake plate, then spooned some milk over it to soften it. He sensed his brother glance at him a few times before Adam said, “The cognac was that good, huh?”
“Yup.”
Adam scraped what he had sliced into a bowl, then picked up another strawberry. “Care to expand on that?”
“Nope.”
“A lawyer, not wanting to expand on something. That has to be a first.”
Ian grabbed a jar of strawberry jam and twisted the top open with a pop. “I’m not a lawyer anymore.”
“No, you aren’t. You aren’t even as verbose as you used to be. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy about you changing careers like that. I never did get why you decided to go to law school in the first place.”
He’d wanted to forge his own path away from what his family had always done.
He hadn’t foreseen how unfulfilling and repetitive the work was in corporate law.
Adam had argued bitterly when he’d learned of Ian’s career decision, warning him of exactly that, but Ian wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of admitting his brother had been right.
Adam frowned. “Look, I get it. I’ve been in your shoes, and it wasn’t very comfortable. But you were really happy when you decided to remain in Florida.” Adam paused for a few beats, and Ian could practically feel the force of his gaze. “Why did you run?”
Ian’s lips curved into a bitter smile. “I came to my senses.”
Adam grimaced. “Was it the right thing to do?”
How many times had his older brother said that to him when he thought Ian had screwed up?
Ian clenched his teeth. “It doesn’t matter at this point, does it?”
Adam kept his eye on the strawberry he sliced with precision. “Have you communicated with her since?”
“A few times.”
“Well, that’s something, at least. Eve didn’t talk to me for weeks when we split after she found out.”
Ian began carefully spreading a layer of jam on top of the moistened sponge. “You weren’t the one that bailed.”
“Point taken. So, what now?”
Ian smirked. “Now I fly my ass off until I make captain.”
Adam grinned. “Going by how fast you got your type ratings, that shouldn’t take long. Be warned, though, I’ve got quite the flight schedule lined up for you.”
Ian took his time removing the plastic wrap off the bowl of custard, then spooned a good amount over the thin layer of jam. “I was going to talk to you about that.”
Adam stopped slicing. “Oh?”
“Yeah. I may need some time off in a couple of weeks.”
“For?”
“It’s for …” He shook his head. “It’s a lot to explain.”
Adam made a show of setting down the knife and crossing his arms. “I’m OK with the short version.”
Ian took his time spreading the custard to the edges, then reached for the bowl of whipped cream. The sweet smell of sugar and Madagascar vanilla wafted to his nostrils. “I joined the registry to donate bone marrow, and it turns out I’m a match for someone.”
Adam blinked a few times, his eyes widening in what could only be described as stupefaction. “And why the fuck would you do such a thing?”
Ian plopped a dollop of whipped cream onto the custard. “To help another human being, maybe?”
Adam resumed slicing, this time in rapid chops. “There are many other ways to help your fellow man that don’t involve putting yourself at risk.”
Ian smiled. “Crossing the street is also a risk. You may just get hit by the proverbial bus.”
Adam glowered at him. “I’m sure you researched this. What’s the worst thing that can happen?”
“Death.” Ian chuckled.
“Yeah, Buck, because death is so goddamned hilarious.” Adam cursed under his breath.
“When the time comes to have the procedure, I will need off the schedule for a while.” Ian’s voice was resolute.
A muscle in Adam’s jaw ticked. He slid Ian the bowl full of sliced strawberries. “How much time are we looking at?”
“Depends on how quickly I recover. They say two or three days max until you’re back at the office.”
“The cockpit isn’t the office.”
Ian placed the second layer onto the cake. “OK, maybe five days. A week, max.”
“What are the side effects?”
“Some pain around the site of the marrow withdrawal, and maybe I’ll be tired for a day or so. Nothing too bad, I think.” He left out the risk of infection; Adam didn’t need to know about that one.
“Exactly how do they get the marrow?”
“They stick a needle in your pelvic bone and suck it out.”
“You are afraid of needles!”
“I’m not afraid of needles.” Ian grinned. “I hate them.”
Adam shuddered. “A goddamned needle puncturing your pelvic bone. Jesus, man. Must be a thick one too, if they have to suck out marrow through it.”
“Are you trying to scare me out of doing this?”
“Is it working?”
“I’ll be under anesthesia. I won’t see it or feel it. So, nice try.”
“All right.” For a moment, Adam studied Ian’s face, then nodded, seemingly confirming he accepted there was no changing his mind. “You know the recipient, don’t you?”
Ian spread whipped cream over the second assembled layer. “How do you mean?”
“There’s no way I’ll believe you’re going through all that for some rando. Who is the patient?”
Ian sighed. Adam would get it out of him, so evading was no use. “Her mother.”
“Her mother.” Adam pondered for a moment. “How is it possible that you’re a match? The odds must be infinitesimal.”
“They are. There’s a link between the person’s ethnic background and matching bone marrow. Certain genes manage immunity.”
Adam’s brows lifted.
“Her mother is Norwegian.”
A slow grin spread across Adam’s face. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
Ian shook his head. “I know.”
Adam swiped a dab of whipped cream and licked it off his finger. “Does Claire know you’re doing this?”
Ian shook his head. “And she won’t.”
There was that laser-beam stare again. “Why?”
Ian started to spread the topping, making short work of covering the cake with the frothy whipped cream. “You know why.”
No way was he letting her know that he was donating to try to save her mother. If Claire were to decide to be with him, Ian wouldn’t want it to be for any reason other than wanting him.
Adam began decorating the cake with the strawberries he had finished slicing, and Ian thought he saw a glint of admiration in his eyes.
“You’re not such an ass, after all,” Adam said.
Ian picked up a leftover strawberry and popped it in his mouth. “It’s easy. I just strive not to be like you.”
Adam snorted. “Such blatant disrespect. I bottle-fed your ass!”
“For fuck’s sake. You were two!”
Neither of them remembered that, but there were photos to prove it.
“All the more reason to have great deference for your older brother.” Adam picked up a small bowl of blueberries. “You want these in the middle, right?”
“Right. Make the cross.”
Adam quickly arranged the berries, then critically eyed the finished Bl?tkake. “Looks like I might be able to choke it down.”
Ian laughed. “You’re such a goddamned ass.”