Page 26 of Timelessly Ours
Not because of what I’m going to say to my brother when he confronts us of lying about this whole nanny thing, but where I go from here.
What’s in store for me after two years of sobriety?
Two solid years.
Wasted.
There was a time when I thought I could eventually go back to “normal social drinking” but if the other night proved anything, it’s that I’m incapable of anything normal.
“Hey.” My brother’s voice comes from behind me just before the door shuts.
With a deep breath, I turn and wait for bullshit to be called.
But instead, he grips the porch fence beside me and releases a breath into the crisp fall air.
“How much do you hate me?” His voice is raspy and low. His eyes are zoned in on the quiet neighborhood street rather than on me.
“What?”
He swallows and turns to me. “How much do you hate me? For the last several months.” He motions absently toward the house. “For getting everyone on board with…watching over you each night you closed.”
Sharp, familiar pain reaches my chest. “I don’t hate you, Nick.”
I’m afraid of disappointing you. Of being a disappointment.
“I was angry. I felt betrayed by everyone around me. Everyone in my life who was supposed to count. You, Cora, Angel—you’re all I have. Do you know how humiliating that was?”
He nods. “I wasn’t thinking about how it might make you feel,” he admits sadly. “I was more focused on what I didn’t want happening again. What I never want to see you go through again. I hated the idea of you working at a bar.”
“I would have been fine, Nick,” I say, trying to believe it myself.
He nods. “I know. I’m so sorry, Nicky. I’m sorry I dragged in everyone you trust—”
“I’m surprised you asked Coach.”
He scratches his head. “I didn’t. He found out and offered to give each of us a break once in a while.”
I glance weakly back at the house.
Nick steps over to me and lifts my chin. “You forgive me?”
“No,” I snap stubbornly. Then let him embrace me. “Don’t touch me,” I mutter as he chuckles against the top of my head.
“I love you too. I won’t doubt you again. You had your chance to say ‘fuck it’ the other night and you turned around.”
Fresh tears prick my eyes, but I swallow it down. Hiding guilt is something I was always best at.
After a long moment, he releases me and I avoid his eyes like the plague. He’ll see right through me. It’s a twin curse.
He leans back against the railing and looks at the house. “So is this for real?”
I follow his gaze and manage to avoid another lie. “I guess we’ll find out.”
The house is quiet other than the faint sound of a little girl playing by herself in the den.
Rory is sprawled on the floor playing doctor to some of her stuffed animals.
Wordlessly, I join her on the carpet.