Brea

The next morning, I'm leaning on the railing outside of my hotel room, my arms draped over the ledge as I wait for Nathan. It's twenty minutes past the time he told me he was picking me up.

Sighing, I pull up his contact and try calling him again. Like the last two times, it goes straight to voicemail.

Shoving my phone into my pocket, I start walking in the direction of the house, starting to feel a little uneasy. I enjoy the walk. The sun isn't too hot yet and there's a cool breeze blowing my hair over my shoulders.

There's a layer of perspiration covering my forehead by the time I reach the driveway as the day grows warmee. My brother's truck is parked in it. I swipe off the sweat, brushing my palms down my dress. The door is slightly ajar and I press against it. It creaks as I open it.

"Nathan?" I call.

A thick silence greets me. The house is dusty and unkept. I step over the piles of shoes and clothes scattered across the dented floorboards.

"Hello?"

A sense of dread accumulates in my chest. I'm already on edge with everything else that has been going on.

"Nathan?" I yell louder this time, the panic evident in my voice.

I madly begin checking every room. I get to the last one in the hallway and shove it open. My brother lays diagonal across his bed, staring out the window.

"Oh my God!" I exclaim. "You scared me half to death. Didn't you hear me calling out for you?"

He doesn't acknowledge me. He continues laying on his side, staring absently ahead. Frowning, I step over all the crap on his floor so that I can face him.

"Nathan?"

"Hi," he eventually replies.

I'm speechless for a few moments.

"Uh... you were meant to pick me up like forty-five minutes ago. We were going to visit dad?"

"Can't."

A sound mixed between a scoff and a harsh breath leaves me. "Because you're so busy?"

"Can't get out of bed," he says quietly.

My heart sinks into my chest. Swallowing, I lower myself to the edge of the bed.

"What's wrong?"

He shrugs.

"Are you sick?"

"I don't know."

Bile rises in the back of my throat. This isn't the first time I've seen this, and I want to empty my stomach onto the floor. This can't be happening.

"Nathan," I say gently. "I need you to get out of bed and have a shower. Can you do that for me?"

"I can't get up."

Standing, I place my hands on my hips, staring down at him. I go out to the kitchen and fill two glasses of water. When I'm back in his room, I place one glass next to him and the other on the spare bedside table. Kicking off my shoes, I crawl into bed beside him.

He rolls onto his back, turning his head.

"Then we will stay here," I say.

"Okay," he says after a minute.

"I'm going to put a movie on."

He nods, looking up at the ceiling.

As I browse through Netflix, Nathan half-turns.

"I'm not sick," he murmurs. "There's nothing wrong with me."

"I know," I reply.

"I'm just tired."

"Okay."

He holds my gaze. "We can see dad tomorrow."

"Sure."

Rolling into me, he places his head onto my arm. I don't move, barely daring to breathe. My tough, stoic brother needs me right now, and I'm not going to do anything to ruin that.

***

A loud bang startles me, making me poke my mascara wand into the corner of my eye.

"Motherfucker," I mutter, wiping off the smudge as I walk to the door, wondering who the hell is beating my door down like the hotel is on fire.

My brother is bouncing on the balls of his feet when I swing the door open. He holds a takeaway bag in one hand and a tray with two coffees in the other.

"Morning," he says, pushing around me and settling the food and drinks onto the table. "I didn't know what you drank so I just ordered you what I have."

"Oh, thanks," I say, eyeing the way he can't stand still. He moves around the room, nosily checking everything out. He strides over to the curtains and reefs it open. A blinding light pours into the room, and I wince, turning to shield myself from it. We hardly spoke a word to each other yesterday while I was with him. I barely slept all night, worrying about him being alone. My mind kept going over and over things of the past.

"I need coffee," I mutter, reaching for the cup. I've been through all of this before. I've learnt to just go with it.

Sitting down at the small table and chair, I gesture to the other seat. Nathan falls into it as he digs around the bag, pulling out two toasted sandwiches. He tosses one at me and places the other down in front of him.

"There's a challenge coming up in a month that we should enter," he says.

I stare at him. "A challenge?"

"It's a fundraiser. You get a team together and compete against other teams. There's a series of challenges you have to complete and whoever does it the quickest, wins."

A few days ago, Nathan could barely look me in the eye. Yesterday, he didn't move from his bed for more than twenty-four hours. Now he wants me to stay an entire month so I can do a challenge with him? Blowing out a breath, I chew my food, trying to keep up with him.

"A month is a long time away."

His face falls. "Oh. Right."

"I mean... I could... stay." I say. "Do you want me to stay?"

"Do you want to?"

I shrug. "I don't know what I want."

"Then stay," he replies, taking a big bite. "Stay for the challenge. It'll give you time to figure out what you want to do." He takes a long sip of his coffee. "Dad would want you to stay."

I consider his words. Since I haven't got much else going on, I don't see the harm in staying a little longer.

"Okay," I agree, trying not to think too hard about all of this. "Let's do it."

***

Nathan and I spend most of the day with dad. We have lunch, watch movies, and have proper conversations where we are all involved. It's nice and something I didn't know I needed until I was experiencing it.

By the end of it, no one would guess we haven't seen or barely spoke for ten years. It's made me think about all the things I have missed. Shoving back all those thoughts, I enjoy my time with them. The sound of my mother's sharp voice has appeared a few times in my head, but I've managed to ignore it. She would be rolling in her grave if she could see what I was doing.

Hearing my brother's booming laugh bounce around the room feels like it heals a wound I didn't know I had.

I'm on a high when I get back to the hotel. It's nice to return there and not be in tears the second I walk through the front door. It's been an emotionally exhausting few weeks for me but right now, in this very moment, it doesn't seem as bad as it did yesterday.

After touching up my makeup, I walk down to the local pub. It's busier tonight than the last time I was here. The girl I met last time is serving behind the bar and I make a beeline toward her, since she is the only person here that I sort of know.

"Hi there," she smiles.

"Hey."

"What can I get you?" she asks. "Bourbon?"

"You have a good memory."

"You get good at remembering people's drinks when you work behind a bar," she explains.

"I would love a bourbon. Thanks."

She makes the drink for me and slides it across the bar top. "You're still here."

"I am," I say. "Turns out I might be staying for a bit longer."

"That's great!"

"Yeah. I just hope I have enough money to keep me afloat. I'm still paying rent back home."

"We need someone," she says. "Desperately. You worked behind a bar before?"

"I worked at a bar in the city of the summer holidays a few years ago," I say. "It's like riding a bike, right?"

"Sure," she shrugs. "I'm Cassie, by the way."

"Brea," I smile.

"Nice to meet you, Brea. The job is yours, if you want it."

"Just like that?" I ask.

"Yup," she replies.

"Okay. Sure. When do you want me to start?"

She leans toward me, refilling my glass. "Right now."

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