Page 58 of Forever Never
“I’ll go. I just thought—Never mind. It was stupid.”
“Spencer Callan, you stay right where you are,” Remi commanded from over Brick’s shoulder. Well, more accurately, around his bicep.
“Remi?” Spencer went from kicked puppy to elated brother in the span of a single heartbeat. “Boy, am I glad to see you!”
“Not half as glad as I am to see you!” She elbowed Brick out of the way, leaving him to watch as his brother swept her up in his arms.
Jealousy sliced deep. His brother and Remi shared the kind of carefree, affectionate bond he could never be a part of.
“Whatareyou doing here?” she asked when Spencer put her back on her feet. Brick had to squash the urge to yank her back to his side.
“The big guy glaring at me didn’t respond to my last two texts. Figured I’d fly in, make sure he was alive. Maybe do some tearing around on the ice bridge while I’m at it.”
Brick had the sudden urge to find and open a bottle of bourbon and drink until he fell down. His brother had either ruined a moment he’d been waiting for, or saved him from making a huge fucking mistake. “You could have called,” he said blandly, turning away from the affectionate reunion and pouring himself a glass of water for his burning throat.
“Since when do I need to call ahead to tell my big brother I’m crashing at his place for a couple of days?” Spence asked, dropping his duffel bag on the floor and wandering into the kitchen to open the fridge.
Halfway through his foraging, he poked his head up over the door like a prairie dog. “Hang on. Are you two…” The unfinished question lingered as Spencer looked back and forth between them, taking in Remi’s inappropriately short shorts, Brick’s bare chest.
“No.” Brick’s answer was stony.
“I mean, if you are, I can go find someplace else to stay for the night. ItisValentine’s Day.”
“I know how this looks. But—”
“Don’t be silly, Spence. You know your brother looks at me and sees just another sibling. He’d rather pluck out his own eyeballs with a cocktail fork than look at me that way,” Remi said sweetly. There was fire beneath that sugary surface, and Brick was afraid it might burn him alive.
“Good thing I never thought about you that way,” Spencer said smugly. “Thanks for taking my virginity, by the way.”
“Hey oh!” Remi smirked.
They high-fived, his little brother and his…whatever the fuck Remington was to him, in his kitchen as if it were all some hilarious joke. And maybe it was. But not to him. Brick wished he could just lock them both out of the house and go back to his nice, quiet life.
“Well, I should get going. Thanks for letting me soak up some of your lights, Brick,” she said, starting for the door.
“No,” he said again. And when she didn’t listen—because the woman never fucking listened—he had to grab her by the hood of her sweatshirt. “You’re staying here.”
“You know what that means,” Spencer announced. “Sleepover! I brought popcorn and beef jerky. We can light our farts on fire and tell ghost stories.”
“Boy sleepovers are gross,” Remi observed.
* * *
Brick played dirty.While Spencer went upstairs to change, Brick hid Remi’s boots in the dining room so she couldn’t sneak out before they’d had their little talk.
He bided his time through the inevitable catching up portion of the evening. Through the popcorn making and the ensuing rounds of competitive Jenga. Nostalgia slapped at him. The three of them had done just this in this exact room. A fire roaring in the fireplace. A movie no one paid attention to on the TV. His grandmother providing the popcorn. His grandfather, the commentary.
His grandparents would have approved.
It felt…right. Like they all belonged here. But anyone could stick around for the good times. That wasn’t the true test. And Brick knew from experience that most wouldn’t stick through the bad, the hard, the inconvenient. The new, shiny adventure would always beckon to some to shake the dust off their shoes and move on.
Spencer seemed good, happy even. He worked in sales in a complicated position Brick had given up on understanding years ago. He kept them entertained with stories about Detroit and his friends, razzing Remi, reminiscing with Brick. The mood was light like it always was with Spence around.
But every few minutes, Brick would lock gazes with Remi and the smolder there threatened to ignite again. He couldn’t ignore it. And if he wanted answers out of her, he was going to have to embrace it.
So he waited until Spencer was snoring in the recliner. Remi was curled in a ball on the end of the couch under a throw his grandmother had knitted. Brick occupied the opposite end, his feet propped on the coffee table. Something his grandparents would not have approved of.
Remi stirred.
