He stopped beside the breakfast bar as I opened the fridge. “I’m sorry, Tori. For what I said … and for everything else.”
I straightened so fast I almost clipped my head on the inside of the fridge and goggled at my brother. He wasn’t the apologizing type.
“It isn’t an excuse, but I—I haven’t been coping well with things.” He sat heavily on a stool. “Back in August, when you were arrested and I found out you … you’d joined that guild … Sophie had left me a couple weeks before that and I felt like I’d lost both of you.”
He scrubbed at his short beard, unable to meet my eyes. “I did a lot of thinking while I was away over Christmas, and I realized I’d handled this all wrong.”
Eyebrows scrunched, I pulled cheese and butter from the fridge. “Want a grilled cheese sandwich?”
He smiled weakly. “Sure.”
Grabbing a loaf of bread and a cutting board, I started laying out slices. Surreptitiously, I studied my brother. His brown hair was cut shorter than I remembered, the beard I’d convinced him to grow neatly trimmed, but despite his well-groomed appearance, there were dark circles under his hazel eyes.
“You’ve been a massive asshole,” I told him bluntly, slathering butter across the bread.
He nodded.
“I tried to explain things to you, but you wouldn’t listen. I tried to introduce you to my friends, but you didn’t want to meet them.”
Another nod.
“And you’ve changed your mind about all that?”
“Yes. I want to know everything.”
Dropping my gaze to the cutting board, I cut slices of marble cheese and stacked them beside the bread. My chest ached, old wounds and more recent ones reopened by his presence. Part of me wanted to run around the counter, throw my arms around my big brother, and tearfully unload all my pain and fears on him.
Before Christmas and our fight, I would’ve done exactly that. But now, after so much had happened, I wasn’t pouring my heart out to anyone with the potential to add to the beating it’d already taken.
“Well, I’m not explaining anything.” Pulling out a frying pan, I set it on the stovetop and turned on the burner. “Not anymore. I gave you a chance—several chances—and you threw it all back in my face. I want things to be right between us again, but I’m done justifying my choices to you.”
“How am I supposed to understand if you won’t tell me anything?” he asked stiffly.
I spooned a blob of butter into the warming pan, fighting a fresh wave of anger. “Are we family, Justin?”
“Of course. Tori—”
“Then you don’t need to understand anything. You just need to be my big brother.”
He put his elbows on the counter. “You can’t expect me to pretend nothing has changed. I need to know what’s really going on.”
“Why?” I demanded.
“So—so I can …”
“So you can decide once and for all if I’m a mythic crook?” I pointed my spatula at him. “Is that why you’re here? So you can judge me some more?”
“No! I want to fix this, Tori.”
I tossed the buttered bread into the pan and let the slices warm. As I flipped them and layered cheese on, Justin watched me, his brow furrowed and jaw set with stubbornness.
I closed up the sandwiches and flipped them again. When the outsides were golden brown and crispy, I slid them onto two small plates and set one in front of Justin.
“Then be my brother,” I told him. “Not the moral police.”
He looked down at his sandwich, a breath rushing through his nose. “All right.”
We ate in silence, weighing each other with our gazes. Justin and I knew each other very well, but our adult selves kept running face-first into our past expectations. He was wondering how hard he could push this grown-up Tori, and I was wondering how far I could trust my once-hero brother with my poor, battered heart.
I shoved the last corner of my sandwich into my mouth. “I’ll be busy until next week at the earliest. When I’m free, we should get coffee on your lunch break like we used to.”
“What are you busy with?”
I narrowed my eyes, warning him not to go all “interrogator” on me. “A friend needs help. I’ll be busy with him.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
Yeah, he could not twist up my emotions when I already had so much to deal with, but I wasn’t mean enough to say that. “Thanks, but no. I’ll send you a message next week.”
Recognizing his dismissal, Justin scooted off his stool and stood. He hesitated, then held out his arms hopefully. I circled the bar and stepped into his hug. He squeezed me tightly.
“Missed you, Tor,” he murmured.
“Missed you too,” I sighed. “Please don’t be a dick this time.”
He huffed a laugh.
I saw him to the door, shaking my head as he climbed into his shiny, dark blue Dodge Challenger. My brother and his muscle cars. I should’ve noticed it parked on the curb.
Grinning at the memory of him teaching my seventeen-year-old self how to do a burnout in his old Mustang GT, I hurried back inside. As I hopped the last step, a bush poked up from behind the sofa, followed by a pair of huge chartreuse eyes.
“The human is gone?” Twiggy asked in his high voice.
“Just left.” I swept into the kitchen and turned on the tap. It’d need to run for two minutes before I got any hot water. “I’m surprised you didn’t scare him off.”
“I tried, but he wasn’t scared.”
I almost dropped the plates I’d picked up off the counter. “You did? What did you try?”
“Spooky noises first.” Twiggy walked along the sofa cushions, head bobbing as he searched. “I made the lights go on and off, and the shadows move, but he didn’t run away.”
He stuffed a long-fingered hand between the cushion and armrest and pulled out a TV remote. Turning to the screen, he pressed a button. The television came on with an ear-splitting blare of sound—an audience cheering.
“Turn it down!” I yelled, dunking the plates in the sink. “What else did you do to Justin?”
Twiggy dropped the volume by a few notches, his eyes glued to the spinning wheel on the screen as the game-show announcer described the prizes on the line for contestants. The faery didn’t react to my question, all thoughts of Justin gone from his leafy head.
Rolling my eyes, I finished up the dishes, headed into my room, and pushed up my sleeves. Aaron and I were hitting the road tomorrow, and I needed to pack.
Problem was, I wasn’t sure what to pack.
Combat gear, for sure. I hauled it out of my closet and tossed it on my bed. What else? I might need to blend in, so street clothes of several varieties. I rifled through my closet, selecting likely contenders. Crouching, I dug through my shoes, tossing the occasional pair over my shoulder. What else?
Toiletries, I supposed.
When I opened my bedroom door, another blast of sound hit me. A screeching woman on the screen was jumping up and down in hysterical excitement as three beautiful models posed beside the powerboat she’d won. Shaking my head, I wondered if the woman even wanted a powerboat. Did she live near water?