Page 5 of Ours to Lose
Evan shrugged as if that was a perfectly normal expectation. “Yeah.”
He was as delusional as Jillian.
“Absolutely not.” I rounded the prep table to grab another box, bringing this one to the counter with the cutting board I’d set out earlier.
“I’d pick a good one,” he said, trailing me. “And it’d be healthy for you. It’s been forever since Patrick, and this is the perfect opportunity to try something new without any pressure.”
Three years was hardly forever, though I could see how it might feel that way to Evan. He rarely went more than a week between hookups.
I set out my phone and pulled up my prep list. “I’m not kissing some random dude you pick out for me in a crowd just to have a New Year’s kiss. I’m not that desperate.”
“I never said you were desperate.”
“Your plan kind of did that for you.” I peeled an onion as my phone buzzed on the counter.
“No, my plan?—”
His sudden silence had me glancing up to find him staring at my phone. Gabe’s name filled the notification pop-up with the first part of his message visible.
Gabe:You would love it. Next time I’ll…
I lowered the onion and took a deep breath before meeting Evan’s stare.
His nostrils flared as he held his voice steady. “You’re still texting him? After he bailed again?”
“He didn’t bail on Christmas,” I said, careful to keep my tone neutral. “His flight got canceled because of a storm.” And he’d apologized to his dad and me about fifty times for missing it despite there being nothing he could have done short of gaining the ability to control the weather.
He’d have apologized to Evan too if Evan would have bothered to read the message.
Evan’s jaw tensed. “Doesn’t mean you have to keep texting him.”
“Someone should.”
I’d been that someone for the better part of two years. The only consistent thread of connection Gabe had to his home after everything shattered.
I hadn’t planned to be. Hadn’t expected him to respond after the first couple of times I’d checked in, never mind keep responding.
But he’d been a thread of connection for me too. An unexpected source of comfort that could make me laugh or feel seen with a few simple words through my phone screen. One I saw no reason to give up just because Evan had taken a pair of kitchen shears to his own relationship with Gabe.
“You thinkIshould, is that it?” His gaze lowered to the counter, hands squeezed into fists, every part of him drawn tight.
We were both adults, nearly twenty-nine, but all I saw in front of me was the boy I’d grown up with. The one who loved so big and hurt even bigger. Who did everything he could to protect himself from pain for fear it would be too much.
I kept my voice gentle. “Do I think you should reconcile your estranged relationship with your brother who, for most of your life, was your best friend? Yes. I do.”
“I don’t need him as a best friend,” he insisted. “I’ve got you.”
My heart squeezed at the depth of that simple truth. He did have me, just like I had him. Just like we’d always had each other. There wasn’t a day I wasn’t grateful.
I grazed his fist with my pinky, and he uncurled his own to hook with mine.
“What about as a brother? Do you not need that either?” I asked, knowing how much he did. No one else could fill the void of all Gabe was to him.
His voice was hollow. “He made that choice for me when he left.”
“And now he’s coming back. You get to decide what that means for you, but I won’t shun him just because you are.”
He finally met my gaze, his eyes red. “He still might bail.”
