Chapter 13 #2
After a few weeks off, between the time he’d originally taken for New York and with his initial recovery, Anker is heading back to work on Monday.
He’s still in a boot and using crutches to get around, but the physical therapist issued him this scooter-like contraption he’ll use to move about the hospital.
Not only is this the longest period of time my brother has stayed homebound, but it is also the most inactive he’s ever been.
Even after he had COVID two years ago, he forced himself—way before it was appropriate—to at least walk on the treadmill in his guest room.
He shrugs. “It’s fine.”
“I bet the nurses you shamelessly flirt with will be happy to see you.” I bump his side with mine, hoping to draw out a little more excitement than this.
Ever since we were kids, Anker’s been the sun that everyone orbits around. As outgoing as I can be, I’m awkward in group settings. Give me one-on-one interactions. Those are the easiest to navigate. It’s hard to imagine that at one time, Anker had been shy and awkward as a little boy.
“I’m sure they’ve survived.” Anker forks up some salad.
“I don’t know. They’ve only had Garrett for two weeks. They must be utterly starved for proper hot doctor interaction. You know one with the ability to not brood but have flirty banter.” I toss a cheeky expression towards where I hear Garrett shuffle in from the kitchen.
“You do realize that Garrett and I aren’t the only doctors who work at the hospital, right?” he snarks.
“Yes, but how many of them are hot?” My self-assured response is smug.
“Are you calling Garrett hot?”
“More importantly, did you just call your brother hot?” Garrett teases, placing the bottle of wine and some glasses on the coffee table in front of us.
“No…” Realization creases my brow. “Not…intentionally.”
“Don’t know if I like you sitting so close to me after calling me hot.” Anker scoots away.
“Shut up.” I tap my bare foot against his uninjured calf.
“So, you’re not denying our mutual hotness,” he purrs with what I imagine is a waggle of his eyebrows.
“Barf,” I make a gagging noise. “It’s not about looks. It’s about your constant need to flirt with everyone. We know Garrett is more the sit broody in the corner type.”
My gaze shifts to where Garrett now sits in a large leather chair in the corner. Though he’s not exactly broody at this moment. The low lighting in the room paints him in shadows, but a lightness wafts off him.
“Don’t let Garrett fool you. He’s had his share of hospital liaisons,” Anker says, filling each glass with wine and handing me one.
“Has he? Interesting.” I clear my throat in a failed attempt to tamp down the high pitch in my voice.
I’m aware that Garrett isn’t a monk. He has relations with women.
As Anker describes it, they’ve all been short-term, low-stakes hookups, and none of them are current.
It’s clear that anything more is beyond his capability.
Even more reason that the little spark of jealousy in my belly at the mere mention of him being with anyone else needs to die.
“It’s not that interesting,” Garrett mutters. “We all know your brother is more the resident flirt. Though his flirtation game is nonexistent these days.”
“So, he’s not the medical fuckboy anymore?” I smirk over the brim of my wine glass.
“Not for six months or so.”
“Interesting.” My smirk gets bigger.
Groaning, Anker tosses his head back. “Hush.”
“How is Sonora doing?” I sip my wine.
It’s clear Anker is disappointed about not getting to run the marathon, but I suspect his bigger regret is not meeting Sonora in person. In the seventeen years I’ve witnessed him date, I’ve never seen him talk about someone like he does Sonora.
“I’m not sure how she’s doing,” he says between bites.
Lips pursed, I tilt my head. “What do you mean, you’re not sure? Don’t you two text all the time?”
“We haven’t talked since my accident.”
“She hasn’t messaged to check on you?” I say, indignation simmers in my bloodstream.
I know she’s aware of his accident. I posted about it in the blind runners/guide group, which she’s active in.
She even commented about how sorry she was and hoped for a speedy recovery.
Though, that seems a little cold and robotic considering they have been in almost daily communication over the last few months.
Maybe Sonora isn’t the future “Mrs. Dr. Larsen” after all.
Anyone who plans to be part of Anker’s life will need to be as thoughtful about him as I know he is about everyone else.
Hell, he sent flowers to her a few months ago after a bad sinus infection took her out for a week.
The least she can do is check in on him after a concussion and a broken ankle and ribs take him out.
“She messages,” he mumbles.
My head snaps toward him. “And you…” A scowl forms on my face.
“I’m focused on my recovery.”
“And you can’t take two minutes away from physical therapy appointments and wallowing on the couch to message her back?”
“Jensen…” He huffs a long sigh.
I aim my fork at him. “Dick move, big brother. It’s clear Sonora cares for you, and you are gaga for her. The two of you engage in these epic-long text threads.”
“We’re just friends.”
“Last time I checked, you don’t send your friends flowers when they’re sick.” I tip my head toward Garrett in the corner. “You getting flowers from mopey-bear over here?”
“Nope.” A smirk is audible in Garrett’s response.
“Judas! I bring you yogurt,” Anker counters.
“Not flowers.”
“Plus, you told Mom about Sonora!” Placing my plate on the table, I sit up straighter.
We are a close family, but not a tell Mom everything about our dating life kind of family.
She’s obsessed with the cake she’ll create for both of our weddings.
Some moms imagine the dresses their daughter will wear, or what song they’ll dance to with their son at the reception.
But our mother daydreams about buttercream versus cream cheese frosting.
Mentioning a significant other, or in this case, the possibility of one, isn’t a casual thing with our mother.
“With Mom’s internet stalking skills and Pinterest obsession, she likely has an entire wedding mood board for you two.”
“It’s not a big deal.” He shrugs. “I’ve been busy.”
“Busy! With what?”
“Recovery.” He motions to his booted foot. “You seem to forget that I had all this to deal with.”
“Sure, we’ll go with that,” I say, sarcasm lathers my tone. “Did you at least tell her that? Like, have you responded to let her know you’re going to be disconnecting for a bit, or are you just ghosting her?”
Hot anger burns along my veins, thinking about poor Sonora, just waiting for a response. One minute she’s in daily communication with Anker and then the next day, poof it’s gone with no explanation. All because my brother’s head has been up his ass since his accident.
“I expect better from you.” Disappointment slithers into my voice, making it sound venomous.
“Leave the melodrama for your audiobooks. This isn’t a big deal. Not to mention you’re overstepping,” he says with a dismissive head shake.
“It may not be a big deal to you, but I’d imagine to Sonora it is. It’s clear from everything you’ve shared that she likes you, and you’re just blowing her off. One minute you’re making plans to meet at the marathon, and now you’re ghosting her.”
“Stop projecting,” he says flippantly.
“What does that mean?” My brow pinches.
“It means that you’re upset about whatever literary fuckboy did to push you into your romantic sabbatical or whatever the fuck you’re calling it, and taking it out on me. I’m not Miles, and Sonora isn’t you.”
Blanching, I rear back. It’s like foreign words are coming out of my brother’s mouth.
“Watch it,” Garrett snarls, causing both me and Anker to look at him. “Don’t weaponize what happened with Miles against her.”
“I am not… Fuck…” Anker heaves a loud breath. “I’m sorry, Jensen. I shouldn’t have said that. I just… You just don’t get it.”
“I get you’re being a jerk. All because you can’t run a race.” I toss my hands up. “I’m seeing the wrong side of six a.m. most mornings to make your Larsen lore fever dreams come true, the least you can do is pull your head out of your ass.”
“Head out of my ass?” he grits. “You’ve spent a month training for something I’ve spent years training for. Not to mention, a lifetime working toward. I was supposed to go to New York, meet Sonora, and start my life. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Don’t be an asshole,” Garrett snaps. His body’s rigid posture telegraphs the icy glare aimed at my brother.
“I have this, Garrett.” I look between my friend and my brother. “But I do understand, Anker.” I release a shaky breath. “I may not understand what you’re going through right now, but I know what it’s like to have expectations for how your life is supposed to unfold, but fate has different plans.”
It might be why I lack the blind faith my brother has in the Larsen lore.
Maybe it’s because fate dealt each of us different cards from the deck.
Anker has his lists and plans, but I have to adapt.
With each degree of loss in my vision, I’m forced to figure out new ways of doing things.
As well-adapted as I am, I am more the wait-and-see what happens type.
“Bad things happen all the time. Life doesn’t turn out the way you want—hope for.
” My gaze drops on Garrett, who sits quietly in the chair across the room.
“This sucks, but it’s temporary. If you want to let it derail you from what you want, that’s on you.
But if you want to put your big boy panties on and adapt, I’m here. ”
He scrubs his hands down his face. “I am a dick.”
“Yes, you are,” Garrett says gruffly.
“I’m sorry, Jensen. I shouldn’t have said those things.”
“Thank you.” I sit up straighter. “I am also sorry. I probably did project a bit, and I definitely overstepped. I just don’t want to see you lose out on the things you want just because it doesn’t happen the way you think it should happen.”
This may be the first time my brother has faced life not happening the way he’s planned.
As charming and carefree as he is, he has plans for everything.
His plans have plans. Hell, it’s why he has emergency preparedness kits in his car and garage.
Not to mention things for Ditka at his house, and both Garrett and my favorite snacks, just in case.
I’m used to life disappointing me, so I know how to adapt. Whether it’s men I crush on not liking me back or restaurants without an accessible menu, I always figure it out.
“I’ll get my head out of my ass and call Sonora tomorrow. It’s after nine in New York, and I know she likes to go to bed early,” he says.
“Good.” My smile ticks up.
He shifts on the couch to face me. “I am really sorry for what I said, and if you want to pull out of the marathon, it’s okay. I can do it on my own. Like you said, I just need to adapt and figure it out.”
It would be so easy to take him up on his offer. I could revert to cheering him on from the sidelines, but I don’t want to. I have no expectation that I will finish this race, but I have hope that I will and determination to try.
“And give up sisterly brownie points, never. You’re stuck with me.” I bump his shoulder.
He loops his arm around me and squeezes. “Thanks. For calling me a dick and running a marathon with me.”
“Anytime.”