Lucas: How far do you think the flirting has gone? Do you think they’d had a little pow-pow fun?
Pow-pow what? Jesus Christ.
Rosie: okay gossip girl, let me stop you right here.
Rosie: you’re supposed to side with me.
Lucas: I’ll always be on your side.
Those words sat there alone for several seconds as I stared at them, not really knowing what was about them that made them stand out.
The three typing dots appeared again.
Lucas: I’ll let you go, just wanted to check on him. And you.
Lucas: #TeamRosie
Lucas: xoxo, you know you love me.
Lucas: and before you ask… I have a big sister, Ro. I know Gossip Girl.
Ah dammit. God freaking dammit.
Why did he have to go around being so… good and funny and… and… so Lucas?
Rosie: that’s sweet of you, Lucas. You really didn’t have to check on us.
A few seconds passed, and just when I thought I wouldn’t receive any more messages from him, a new bubble appeared on my screen.
Lucas: One last thing, will you be eating at your Dad’s or should I leave dinner in the oven for you?
That expanding sensation in my chest I so often experienced when Lucas was around came back with a vengeance. Heightened, intensified. As if it was there to stay. He was so unbelievably sweet, and he probably had no idea.
This truly was a curse and a blessing. Because—
“Rosie?”
Looking up from my phone, I caught my dad’s interested gaze. “Sorry, were you saying something?”
“Who’s that you’re texting?”
His question brought me back in time, when I was sixteen and he’d asked me if there was any boy I liked. Remember to pick the boy that will plant a garden for you instead of just getting you the flowers, Bean.
“Oh,” I said as casually as I could. “Just a friend.”
“There was a lot of grinning going on there for ‘just a friend.’？”
“I was laughing at something he said.” I locked my phone and slipped it in my bag. “He’s funny like that.”
“Oh yeah?” Dad’s smile was knowing. “What was the joke?”
Out of the corner of my eye I watched Nora slip out of the room with a nod in our direction. I used her disappearance to my advantage. “One not as funny as seeing you with Nora.” I pointed a finger at him. “Someone’s been busy.”
He laughed, like outright deep belly laugh, and I loved hearing that sound. I loved it less when it died off too quickly the moment Dad checked his watch.
“I guess your brother’s not coming then,” he admitted with a sigh.
I thought about making up a new excuse for him, but we had reached the point where there was not much else I could say. “I guess not, Dad.”
“Right.” He nodded. “Let’s get this done so you can catch an early train back, Bean.”
* * *
Hours later, I was finally getting off the train and making my way out of Penn Station. Feeling surprisingly drained of all energy and it being dark and a little late, I opted for spending the extra bucks on an Uber instead of taking the subway back home.
I had been waiting for my driver to arrive, when the outline of a man pacing the intersection across from where I stood caught my attention.
His head hung low as he walked back and forth, fidgeting with his hands in a way that immediately struck me as familiar.
I stared for a little longer, then felt my feet carrying me forward.
Olly?
It took me at least ten feet to confirm that the man was my little brother. God, had he changed so much in the time I hadn’t seen him? His shoulders seemed wider, and he even looked taller, but it was him. Man or boy, that was my little brother. And… What was he doing here? Was something wrong?
I rushed the last feet between us.
“Olly?” I called, watching his head immediately bounce up at my voice. “What are you—”
The last stride that brought me face-to-face with him stopped whatever I was about to say.
Something wasn’t just wrong. Everything was. Because my brother stood in front of me with a black eye and a busted lip.
“Jesus Christ, Olly.” I watched my hands reach for his face. My fingers brushed his cheeks. He winced. “What happened? Who did this to you?”
His eyes closed, and I knew, I just knew that the nineteen-year-old man in front of me needed comfort. He might have been at least five inches taller, and no longer the boy that stared at me like I had hung the moon when I sneaked him an ounce of chocolate, but I still wanted to wrap him in my arms and protect him from the world. From whoever had done this.