Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Standing in the middle of her tiny house, fresh from a great lunch with Essie and being officially welcomed to the hospital’s volunteer staff, Maude had the distinct impression she was trying to reorganize a closet while someone kept adding new shoes.
Her home was wonderful and efficient and absolutely perfect for one person. One mostly quiet person. One semi-organized person. One person who knew exactly where everything went.
Her brother Robbie was the opposite of all those things. And she realized she had no idea how much stuff he’d be bringing with him.
Robbie was never short on baggage, physical or emotional.
She sighed at the loft. “Well. Something’s going up there. Preferably him.”
She looked up at the space she’d once envisioned as a cozy reading nook or a spot for an overnight guest. Currently, it housed some dust, a few boxes of Christmas stuff, and her suitcase. Storage, really. Which was actually how it was labeled on the house plan. Storage loft.
“Well,” she muttered, “I guess I can store Robbie up there.”
Pixel was probably questioning Maude’s life choices right now. She could practically hear his comments, if fish could talk. Which, thankfully, they could not.
Robbie wasn’t just potentially high maintenance. He was a spreader. A man who filled rooms energetically and emotionally. Putting him in her tiny house felt like trying to house a Great Dane in a shoebox.
She climbed the steps to the loft to get a better look.
The headroom wasn’t terrible, but only if you paid attention. Or were under five-eight. Which Robbie wasn’t.
She sat on the floorboards and drummed her fingers. She needed to clean up here if this was where she was putting him.
Then she glanced down at her couch, her cozy, brand new couch, and shuddered.
No. She could not have her living room transformed into Robbie’s makeshift bedroom.
She’d never get him out. He’d migrate from the couch to the kitchen table, then to her work desk, until she was a visitor in her own home.
“I can’t put him there,” she told the empty room. “That’s the kiss of death. He’ll take over and morph into a permanent fixture.”
She shivered at the thought of coming out every morning to Robbie snoring, surrounded by his tangle of charger cords, open bags of chips, and empty soda cans.
She studied the loft again. What would he sleep on up here? She supposed she could buy him a bed, but that felt like rolling out a welcome mat embroidered with Stay As Long As You Want! Indefinitely! Forever!
“Nope,” she said. “Not doing that. Absolutely not.”
But something had to go up here. It wouldn’t be cool to expect him to sleep on the floor. He was younger than her but only by four years.
She needed something that didn’t scream “move in,” but still said “you’re loved.” Something that wouldn’t break her back carrying it up the steps. Something he couldn’t possibly mistake for a long-term invitation.
She climbed back down and grabbed her laptop from the counter, scrolling through options on .
A futon? Too college and she’d have to put it together.
An air mattress? Robbie would pop that in a heartbeat.
Then she found a full-size mattress in a box.
One of those latex things that expanded after it was opened.
It would turn the loft into actual guest space and still be usable after he left. “Hmm,” she murmured. “Just comfortable enough. Just temporary enough. Perfect.”
She clicked Buy It Now and sighed in relief. It would arrive overnight and give her time to set it up first thing. Thank you, .
What about Robbie’s stuff? He’d have to store it up here. She was not filling her place with his belongings. She wasn’t budging on that.
“Lord help us,” she whispered, rubbing her forehead. “Two Harrigans in one tiny house. This place may never recover.”
But beneath the worry and the logistical chaos was something warm.
Robbie needed her. And despite their history and all the teasing and the occasional tension, she was still glad he was coming.
Even if it meant reconfiguring her entire life for a while.
It would be good to reconnect. Good to help him out for a bit.
A brief bit.
She folded her arms, sighing as she took in the tiny space she was about to share. “It’s fine,” she told herself. “I’ve survived worse.”
Though as she glanced back at the loft, she whispered, “Probably.”
She put her laptop aside and wondered if she should go grocery shopping, so she didn’t run out of food the day he arrived. He ate a lot more than she did, something she remembered her mother commenting on when they’d been kids.
That made her wonder if her parents knew what was going on with Robbie. Maude stared at her phone for a full thirty seconds before finally waking the screen up. Calling her parents was easy. Calling her parents without accidentally spilling secrets was significantly harder.
She tapped her mother’s contact and paced the length of her living room twice while it rang.
“Maude!” her mother answered brightly. “Well, isn’t this a treat?”
“Hi, Mom.” Maude smiled despite herself. “How are things down in the Keys?”
“Well, your father’s in the backyard trying to convince the iguanas that the herb garden is off-limits. So far, the iguanas are winning.”
Maude laughed. “Dad Versus The Iguanas sounds like a reality show I’d watch. But he may have met his match.”
“That’s for sure. So, what’s new with you, honey?”
Maude hesitated. She should have figured out what she was going to say before she called. Instead, she went with a breezy tone that immediately felt too forced.
“Oh, not much. Just…you know. Website stuff, gaming, the usual.” She swallowed. “Speaking of, uh, family things. Have you talked to Robbie lately?”
There. That sounded casual and totally normal, right? Not suspicious at all.
Her mother hmmed thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, we haven’t heard much from him lately. Your father saw something he posted about working too many hours, but you know how your brother is. He gets busy and disappears.”
Maude wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. “Right. Busy.”
“Why? Did he call you?” her mother asked, curiosity sharpening.
Maude forced her voice to remain light. “Oh, he checks in from time to time.” Please, please, please don’t let me sound like I’m hiding anything.
Her mother chuckled. “That boy. Always on his own timeline. Sometimes I swear he inherited his sense of direction from a broken compass.”
“No argument there,” Maude said.
“But he sounded okay?” her mother asked. “You’d tell us if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”
Maude paused long enough to choose her words carefully. “He sounded…like Robbie,” she said. “You know how he gets when he’s between things.”
Her mother sighed knowingly. “Or even when he’s in the middle of things. Restless. Like he’s spotted greener grass.”
“Exactly.” That was Robbie in a nutshell.
“Well,” her mother continued, “you tell him to call his mother, all right? Even a quick text. Just so I know he’s alive.”
“I’ll pass along the message,” Maude promised.
“You’re a good sister,” her mother said warmly.
Maude smiled a little sadly. “Trying to be.”
When she hung up, her shoulders sagged in relief. She hadn’t revealed anything. She hadn’t lied, either. But the conversation left her with one unmistakable truth—Robbie hadn’t told their parents a thing.
Which meant whatever he was dealing with, he was trusting her to help him through it.
The responsibility weighed heavily on her.
Maude kept the phone in her hand as she sank onto her couch. The call had gone fine. Her parents were cheerful, oblivious, living their sunny Keys life without a hint that their son was unraveling.
Maude chewed gently on the inside of her cheek. Should she tell them?
They adored Robbie. He was the baby of the family. And they worried about him because they knew what he was like. Telling them that Robbie was coming to stay with her for a while wouldn’t surprise them, but it would upset them. They’d be worrying all over again.
And there had to be a reason Robbie hadn’t told them anything about this “between-things” mood he’d hinted at or about coming to stay with her.
She sighed. It wasn’t her place to break his silence.
She pulled her knees up on the couch and hugged them to her chest. The loft stairs at the edge of her peripheral vision sat like a reminder of the entire logistical and emotional tangle that was about to arrive.
“If I tell them,” she murmured, “they’ll panic. Dad’ll want to drive up here. Mom’ll start asking Robbie questions. And Robbie will be furious.”
Her parents were great. They loved unconditionally and with zero boundaries when something was wrong. But Robbie hated being fussed over. He’d spent his whole life trying to prove he didn’t need rescuing. Even though he did. Often.
Maude sighed, rubbing her forehead.
On the other hand… Wasn’t it better if their parents knew? If they were prepared for what was happening? Whatever that might be. Shouldn’t they be ready to support him instead of blindsided by whatever was coming next?
She groaned softly and looked at Pixel, like he was having this mental conversation with her. “I do not have the emotional bandwidth to be the family mediator.”
Still, the question lingered, pressing down on her. Should she tell them he was coming? Or wait?
Maude shook her head and stood, walking to the sliders to stare out at the Gulf. No matter how she turned it over in her mind, she kept returning to the same truth:
Robbie had come to her. Not their parents. Not to his friends. To his sister. He obviously trusted her to help him figure things out.
“Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll wait. Just until I know what’s really going on. And then…” She exhaled slowly. “Then I’ll decide if Mom and Dad need to know.”
She had to get to work and get that loft cleaned, then maybe get some more groceries. She wouldn’t have much time tomorrow to do it, as it was her first day volunteering at the hospital and if that mattress really did arrive overnight, she wanted to get it set up before she left.
She looked around her little home. At the cozy sanctuary that was about to become a whole lot cozier.
“All right, Robbie,” she murmured. “Let’s get through this together.”
Though she suspected it might be the kind of together that came with headaches, late-night talks, and more than a little heartache.
But wasn’t that what big sisters were for?