“Yeah, and I mean it every single time. You want me to tackle someone NFL style? Say the word.”
She huffs out a sad little laugh, smiling morosely. “You’re the best brother.”
I’m heronlybrother.
“Obviously.” I toss a chip in my mouth and lean back. “That guy was a douche. And not even a fun kind of douche.”
“What’s the fun kind?”
I shrug. I have no fucking idea but, “The fun kind looks a lot like my roommate Cash and sounds exactly like him, too.”
When my sister laughs, I get the satisfaction of being the shoulder she wanted to cry on tonight, especially since my own personal life is kind of fucked up at the moment. Makes me feel not so…
Alone.
She’s mid-rant about her idiot ex-boyfriend’s stupid gaming chair and the way he used to mansplain everything to her when I feel my phone buzz in my pocket.
I ignore it.
Then it buzzes again.
And again.
Three in a row.
That’s either an emergency or Nova sending me twenty memes in a row with no context.
I pull it out and glance at the screen.
It’s Nova. FaceTime.
I excuse myself from the table and walk outside, thumb swiping across the screen as I lift the phone to my ear.
“Nova?” I ask, watching her face appear under harsh kitchen lighting. “What’s going on?”
“Um, nothing.”
Clearly she’s full of shit because the number of times she’s FaceTimed me is never times before.
“So. I’m with Poppy and she could use cheering up, and I was wondering… where you were.” Pause. “I think it’s time for the two of you to talk. This is getting ridiculous.”
“I thought she was sick.”
“She was.”
My laugh falls short and flat. “She doesn’t want to see me, Nova.”
“Shedoes,” Nova insists. “She just won’t admit it because she’s stubborn and super dramatic and still a tiny scared of contacting you.”
“Why?”
“She’s embarrassed that she moved out, and she’s ashamed she’s pushing you away.”
Ahh.
Sure, makes sense. Poppy did do those things.
“As her best friend and her self-appointed representative, I’m calling you instead of sitting here watching her suffer in silence while pretending she’s fine.”