Page 87 of Kisses and Paperclips

Sweat ran down my spine in slow, steady lines. I wasn’t training.

I was trying to forget.

But no matter how many sets I pushed through, her voice still lingered in my head.

That look in her eyes when I told her she was mine.

I dropped the barbell and rolled my shoulders out. My chest heaved.

“Thought you might be in here,” Marquis interrupted from the doorway. He always popping up somewhere.

I grabbed a towel, wiped the sweat from my face, and tossed it onto the bench.

“You always work out like you’re mad at God, or is this new?”

I didn’t answer. Ignoring my kid brother is second nature to me.

“Right,” he muttered, stepping inside. “So, this is how you avoid calls now?”

I kept my back to him, reached for the water bottle on the shelf. “I told you I’m not coming back.”

He scoffed. “You say that like we’re not bleeding out back home. Like you didn’t build that empire. The rest of us are just keeping it from falling apart.”

“And doing a shit job of it,” I said, calmly.

His jaw tensed, but he didn’t deny it. “You think I don’t know that? We didn’t ask for this, Jules. These are the cards we were dealt.”

“You didn’t fight it either. None of you did.”

Silence.

He sat on the edge of the bench, rubbing his hands together.

“Pop never should’ve handed it over the way he did.”

No argument there.

Our father passed down the family business like it was some consolation prize for guilt. And our baby brother took it with both hands no questions.

“Just answer me this,” Marquis said.

“Why are you still here? You don’t want her company.” He emphasized, her, after all these years, still refusing to refer to her as mom, or even call her by her name.

“You’ve said that. You don’t want to fix what he broke. So what’s keeping you in this city?”

I said nothing.

He stared like he already knew. “Is it her?”

Marquis exhaled like he was tired of guessing. “Then what do you want from us, Julien? He’s already gone now!”

I didn’t answered.

“Because from where I’m standing, you don’t want to come home, don’t want the business, don’t want anything to do with us, but you also act like we owe you something.”

I turned slowly, towel clenched in my hand. “You do owe me.”

His jaw ticked. “For what?”

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