Chapter 38 – Brinley
brINLEY
A t this point, the hospital room next to Maura’s looks more like a pillow fort than a place of healing. We’ve dragged enough floor mattresses and pillows to act as impromptu beds and chairs that there’s barely space to move around.
James still hasn’t left the hospital once. Whenever Maura rests, he comes to the pillow room next door to check emails. He must have slept at some point, but I haven’t seen it. I suspect he just periodically whirs and shuts down.
It's the funniest thing my brain has produced in weeks. I file it away in my Peppermint drafts folder, even though Peppermint is dead and her drafts folder is now a graveyard.
The rest of us cycle in and out. Cat spends her days here, but Nate put his foot down on his pregnant wife sleeping away from their expensive mattress and pregnancy pillows.
Luke, Nate, and Ryan cycle in and out, bringing food and whatever item James thinks might make Maura feel more comfortable.
I come whenever the Copper Cup isn’t open.
Beau joins us after Terrace closes. Nobody says anything when he and I curl up together on a thin mattress in the corner to sleep. Our relationship is one of many elephants in the room that we’re all carefully stepping around.
Five days after Maura’s was admitted, I wake up to find myself alone in the room with James. He’s looking at me thoughtfully.
“You don’t have to stay here, you know,” he says.
I stiffen. I knew my welcome would wear out eventually. When our terror for Maura’s safety faded to concern, someone would remember all the terrible things I wrote and eject me from the group.
“Maura would want you to go home and get some sleep if she knew how many hours you spent on the floor.”
“I could say the same for you,” I point out. “Her doctor told us she’s stable. She wouldn’t mind if you went home to relax for a bit.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s my wife. I’m not leaving.”
I snort. “Has anyone ever told you you’re the world’s biggest wife guy?”
For the first time in days, his mouth twitches into a tiny smile. “Yes. My wife.”
A small knock sounds on the door, and a smiling nurse in Snoopy scrubs appears.
“Mr. Keller?” she says.
James shoots to his feet. “Yes?”
“Your wife just woke up, and she’s asking for you.”
James hesitates a fraction of a second. “Did she say anything else?”
The nurse's eyes crinkle. “She asked if you've slept. I lied. You're welcome.”
A muscle in his jaw moves. He nods at her, very seriously, like she just bought him stock options.
“Thank you,” he says, his voice warmer than I’ve ever heard it.
He follows her out of the room, leaving me alone.
I check to see if Beau’s texted me, and I’m surprised to see the messages in the girl group chat.
We’ve used it to coordinate people coming and going from the hospital, but we haven’t used it to just talk… not since the Peppermint reveal.
Pippa
Adding Eden to ask, where the hell did you find the amazing Chinese food you brought to the hospital last night?
Cat
OMG yes, I had a dream about their chicken fried rice last night.
Pippa
No bogarting, because you can’t say no to a pregnant lady.
Eden
Eden
Thrilled to be in the chat, and I would NEVER conceal my take-out secrets. Which makes them not secrets. It’s a block from Brinley’s place. I think it’s just called Happy Food?
Pippa
Brinley, plz confirm.
My heart thuds. I recognize the text for what it is—a gesture of forgiveness, of readmission into the pack.
Brinley
Deepest apologies for not introducing the world to Happy Food. They’re my takeout faves. Ask them for the mystery dessert and prepare to be shocked. You never know if you’ll get green tea ice cream, mooncakes, or deep-fried bananas.
Cat
I want all of those in my stomach stat.
Pippa
It’s not even 9:00 a.m.
Cat
I thought this chat was supposed to be a judgment-free zone.
Pippa
You’re right. Shame on me.
I’m grinning down at my phone when Luke walks in, two cups of coffee in his hand. He stops in his tracks when he sees me, eyes widening.
“I should go,” he says immediately. His tone isn’t angry—it’s surprised and embarrassed, like he walked in on something private.
For some reason, I find myself blurting out, “No, Luke. Stay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Maura’s awake, and James just went to see her, but he’ll want you here when he gets back.”
Luke nods. He walks inside and sits on the edge of the hospital bed. “Do you still take your coffee black?”
“Yes.” I’m surprised he remembered—hell, I’m surprised he ever knew my coffee order at all.
“So does James.” He holds out a cup. “You should take this. It’ll be cold by the time he gets back.”
“I couldn’t. James should have it.”
“It’s just shitty hospital coffee. If he wants more, I’ll just go down to the visitor’s center and grab another one.”
“But—”
“Take the coffee, Brin,” he says, exasperated. He thrusts it out again, and this time, I take it.
We both sip quietly for a few minutes. Neither of us takes out our phone as a distraction.
We just sit and drink, letting silence stretch out between us.
I find myself really looking at my brother for the first time in years.
His face is as familiar as my own, though we don’t look alike.
When I was younger, I used to be jealous of his light brown hair, blue-green eyes, and warm complexion.
My brown eyes, brown hair, and pale skin felt so plain.
I’ve always shrunk beside my brother. He talks with his hands, oozes enthusiasm, and draws people in like moths to a light.
I’m quiet by nature, more comfortable observing unless I’m around people I know well.
We were the social butterfly and the bookworm—technically related, but sometimes it feels like we’re from different species.
“The coffee at your shop is better,” Luke says after a moment.
I shrug. “Yes, but it’s not a high bar. This sludge is awful.”
“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to. I kind of forced it on you.”
“No…I want it.”
The silence starts again. It’s longer this time, and more brittle. I’ve avoided real conversations with Luke for a decade, and now, that avoidance has run its course.
“I’m sorry,” we say simultaneously.
“Luke—” I start.
“Let me go first, please,” he says. “Because I’m the one who fucked up first. I’m sorry, Brin.
I was an asshole when I read your diary out loud.
I humiliated you in front of people that I knew you wanted to impress.
I tricked you, when I used Beau’s phone to get you to meet us.
I was your big brother. I was supposed to protect you, and instead I treated your feelings like a punchline.
It was despicable, and I’m so fucking sorry. ”
“So why did you do it?”
“This is going to sound awful, because it is.” He stares down at his folded hands.
“I was scared that my nerdy sister crushing on my friend might scare the guys away from hanging out with me. Like they’d judge me for letting you hang around or something.
I was already the only scholarship kid at school, and that made me feel expendable.
I didn’t want to give them a reason to eject me from the group, so I turned it into a joke at your expense. ”
“They wouldn’t reject you. The guys love you, Luke.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He shrugs. “It didn’t feel that simple at the time, though. Sometimes, I think—well, they haven’t ditched me yet, anyway.”
I’ve never seen Luke like this, his eyes distant, his expression forlorn and a little lost. He looks like a little boy again, the brother who did puzzles with me and read the Harry Potter books out loud to me, doing different silly voices for the characters.
Guilt lodges in my chest. Most of my guilt for Peppermint was because of how I hurt my friends, writing about their relationships. Maybe I should have worried more about my brother.
“I’m sorry, too. I was so angry with you that I went way too far with what I wrote.”
“Yeah,” he says flatly. “You did. I get that you were mad at me, but you didn’t have to go nuclear on my friends to get revenge.”
“That’s the thing. It wasn’t about revenge—or, it wasn’t all about revenge. You really hurt me, Luke. All of you were part of it, even Beau. I wanted to warn other women before you hurt them, too.”
“So you thought it was okay to tell the world about my sex life?” His voice is rougher, harsher.
“You thought blasting Maura’s contract marriage didn’t hurt anyone?
Or all the stuff about Nate and Ryan when they were dating your friends?
Was what I did really so awful that it made you want to hurt people? ”
“No. I might have wanted to hurt you in the beginning, but Peppermint stopped being about retaliation a long time ago. I know the damage I’ve caused.
I cost you money, your reputation, and your relationships.
You might have given me the ammunition, but I’m the one who loaded my weapon and pulled the trigger.
I should have been more careful where I aimed.
I’m so sorry, Luke. If I could undo it, I would. ”
Luke looks at me. Really looks, like if he can see me from the right angle, he can tell what’s going on inside my head. Then he sits back in the chair.
“I believe you,” he says, “but it might take a little while for me to feel like it’s true.”
I nod. It feels fair. “Okay.”
Then it’s quiet again. I fiddle with a piece of my hair. It’s the closest thing to peace I’ve had with Luke for a long time, and I don’t want to ruin it already. But there’s one more thing I just have to know.
“Go ahead.”
“Why did you wait this long to apologize?”
“Honestly? I’ve always thought action is more important than words. I tried to show you I was sorry with the way I treated you.”
“Book club at the Copper Cup.” The pieces come together. “You were always there. You always read the book and took the most notes.”
“I read everything you put on the employee recommendation shelf, too,” he says. “Which means I’ve read more romance novels than I’d care to admit.”
“That’s sweet, Luke, really. The thing is, words do matter. Without an apology, there was no moving on for me.”
“I get it. I’m sorry. Sorrier than I could say.”
“I know.”
A few minutes of silent coffee sipping later, Ryan appears in the door with a gigantic bag of Doritos. He looks between the two of us.
“What did I miss?” he asks.
Luke and I exchange glances. I don’t know how to say that we’re halfway between a ceasefire and a peace agreement, not fully forgiven but somewhere on the road toward trying.
“Luke got me the world’s worst coffee,” I say.
Ryan sighs. “I guess revenge is best served with a bunch of grounds at the bottom of the cup.”