Page 41 of Riding the Pine

My shoulders bend under the weight of the stress piling up on them.

There’s a long silence, and since I can’t see anyone’s faces, I can’t tell if my brother is mean-mugging Scott and quietly threatening to beat him to a bloody pulp or what. It seems to take everyone forever to answer.

“Thanks, hermano.”

One of Scott’s hands leave my back, presumably to do some kind of bro-shake with Artemis. “You never need to thank me for taking care of family, Arte. It’s what we do.”

My heart sinks, family. Does he look at me like a sister? I’m pretty sure the way he looks at me sometimes would be considered criminal—in almost every state—if we were siblings but… is that how he sees me?

I turn to say goodnight to my brother, and he hands me a Kleenex. A tentative hand to my face tells me he’s right to. My cheeks are wet, my nose is running, and I probably look like a deranged, Latina version of Helena Bonham Carter in some of her more unhinged movie roles.

After I’ve blown my nose and rubbed my cheeks with my palms, Artemis hands me another tissue, then pulls me against him for a hug.

He must be scared; he’s never really seen me weak like this, so he probably doesn’t know what to do with me.

He kisses me on the forehead. “Todo estará bien, hermana.”

I hope with all my heart he’s right, but in this moment, it feels like everything’s balanced on a knife edge and could go either way. Despite my insides feeling like Jell-O, I nod, trying to put on a brave face for the sake of the twins—story of my life.

“It will be okay.” I speak loudly enough for both of them to hear, Ares too. “Edith will be fine, she’s going to come out of surgery, recover, and go back to kicking Pollo’s ass.”

Ares snickers.

I throw my arms around him, whispering a quick “Don’t get into trouble you little shit,” kind of lecture. It’s mostly tongue in cheek, Eloise has been the calm to his tumultuous storm, and it’s amazing to see.

I don’t have much to say to Apollo, and I refuse to cry again. I hug him, hold him tightly, and demand he calls me if he needs anything, including just a chat with his big sister, no matter the time of day or night.

Scott doesn’t let me linger too much longer before he steps in and places a strong and warm hand at the base of my back. “You going to be okay to walk?”

Jeez. I must be bad. “What’s the alternative? Piggyback?”

He cocks his head to the side, mirth dancing in his eyes and on his lips. “If that’s your chosen method of transportation, I could take you. I could just pick you up and carry you.”

It’s tempting, goddamnit it’s so fucking tempting, but the weight of my brothers’ eyes making me feel prickly stops me. “I can walk.” I’m not sure I can, but somehow Scott gets me to the car and holds his hand out for my keys.

This guy has keys to everything. He’s got his own keys to the hockey house, but he’s also got copies of both twins’ apartments, and Ares’s, in case of emergency.

He also has copies of each of their car keys. The term ride-or-die is taken pretty literally in our family, and Scott is the one they all trust most outside of their blood-bond. In case of emergency, call Scott.

Reliable, dependable, responsible, capable. He’s all those things and more.

“Athena?” He doesn’t snap, but he snaps me out of my own mind to hand him the car key.

He doesn’t have my keys, that would be weird, right? Right? That’s why he doesn’t have them. It is weird. Plus, giving him keys to my life would be so much bigger and mean so much more than my brothers doing it.

We ride the short journey to my apartment in silence, and when we park up in the garage, he opens my door, turns his back to me, and grunts at me to get on his back.

He gives me a goddamn piggyback ride to my apartment, and I have to admit, it’s kind of fun and just the lighthearted moment I needed this evening.

By the time we get my front door unlocked, we’re both laughing. He stumbled on a folded corner of carpet when we stepped out of the elevator and almost went down, but he recovered and kept us both safe.

When I slide down his back onto the floor in my living space, neither of us move. I’m staring at his back, and he’s giving me the space to compose myself. Either that, or he’s fallen asleep on his feet. Could probably go either way to be honest, my whole body is laden with exhaustion.

While I’d love to decompress on the couch with a packet of Twizzlers and a movie, I just can’t bring myself to fight this pull. There is one thing I need to do first, though, and it’s risky. If it goes badly, it’ll make things awkward and could end up with me spending the night by myself, or grabbing a ride share over to the boys’ apartments.

“Scott?”

He turns to face me, his poor face still bruised from fighting and etched with concern.

---