Page 102 of The Other Brother
“Not really,” I admit.
He runs his hands through his hair and puffs out a breath. “That sucks.”
I shrug. “We’re like Romeo and Juliet with the messed-up families.”
Cody props himself up on his arm. “Who’s Romeo and who’s Juliet?”
“Well, you are a lot prettier than me,” I say.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He leans forward and kisses me.
Sometimes when Cody and I are apart, doubt creeps into my head because so many things seem stacked against us. But as soon as we’re back together, the doubt dissolves. I think the solution is to not spend much time away from him.
I kiss him back hard, and Cody moans into my mouth. The sounds Cody makes when we’re fooling around is my personal favorite playlist.
Unfortunately, just as we’re settling into the kiss, Cody’s phone intrudes, buzzing in his pocket.
Cody pulls away from me to check it. “It’s my dad.”
Frank. If ever there was a libido killer, he’s it.
I lean backwards, breathing hard. “Are you going to answer it?”
“Nah, he’ll call back if it’s important. Besides, I’m busy.” Cody chucks his phone on the bed. He has a gleam in his eye as he tugs my T-shirt, pulling it over my head. His fingers map a path down my chest. It’s beginning to be a well-travelled path.
Cody’s phone buzzes again where it’s facedown on my duvet, like an angry wasp about to sting.
He picks it up. “Shit. It’s Dad again.”
“You better answer it,” I say.
“Okay. Hold that thought.”
“Oh, I’ll definitely hold it.”
But Cody misses my hilarious innuendo because he’s too busy answering the phone.
“Hey, Dad, what’s up?”
I immediately know something’s wrong. Cody’s entire body folds in on itself, like an air mattress deflating.
“When did it happen?” His face is ashen.
“Yeah, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Cody hangs up. He’s blinking rapidly, but I get the feeling he’s not seeing much at the moment.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s my mum,” he says. “I need to get to the hospital.”
We arriveat the hospital before Frank. On the phone, Frank told Cody that Heather collapsed at the gym and was rushed to hospital by ambulance, and the unfriendly receptionist won’t tell us anything more.
They won’t let Cody in to see her because they’re still evaluating her, whatever that means. So we sit on the cold, hard plastic chairs in a small waiting room the receptionist pointed us to. A pile of what once were magazines but are now torn, tatty corpses stacked on a chair by the door. An attempt to make the room cheery with a large picture of flowers on one wall is immediately undone by the overwhelming smell of disinfectant.
Frank arrives looking flustered. He takes an automatic step towards us before his gaze slides to me and his shoulders slump.
I have a stab of regret that at one of the worst moments in his life, I’m making it worse for him. But as long as I’m providing some comfort to Cody, I’m staying.
