Page 92 of Sleeper: The Palisades Edition

“Don’t you need help loading up the truck?”

My mind flashes back to the first day I got here, when he helped me unload the truck in a haze of pheromones, and the first time he said good-bye to me in the garage when I was leaving to go to Nico’s show. “I think it would be best if we just say good night right now.”

I hug him, looking down, because if he kisses me, I will forget to leave.

He strokes my hair instead. “Text me when you get to Nico’s.”

“Okay.”

“Text me when you’re in New York.”

“I will.”

“Text me anytime you want to. It doesn’t even have to be dirty. I’ll be busy, but I’ll get back to you when I can.”

I nod and pull away from him.

He stares at me for a few seconds before saying, “We love you, you know?”

“Yeah. I love you guys too.” I glance up at him to confirm that he regrets what he just said as much as I do, but neither of us says anything else. “Go be with the kids. Good night.”

“Good night.”

My brotherpatiently listens to everything I have to tell him about what’s happened in the past few days and why I’m going to New York for the job interview before staring at me blankly and saying, “Go back to Shane. Now.”

“What?”

“You’re punishing yourself because the kids got lost on your watch.”

Am I?

“Well, that may be part of the reason why I’m not hesitating to go to New York right now, but I still have to go. It’s not just for me, even. My professor highly recommended me. It wouldn’t reflect well on him or the school if I just blew off this interview—I already turned down that job in Paris when I decided to move here.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “You’re being an idiot. I mean, do what you gotta do.” He gets up from the coffee table he was sitting on, returning with his guitar. “You have the best brain of anyone I know, but you need to trust your heart on this one. You should trusthisheart. God knows I love Grammie and she’s right about most things, but she’s wrong about you and Shane.”

“You talked to Grammie about us?”

“I talk to Grammie about almost everything.”

“Really?” Am I jealous that Grammie talks to my brother more than me? A little.

“Who do you think I talked to about the real shit when you were in France? Mom and Dad? It’s been Grammie and Shane for half my life almost.”

He sits back down in front of me, tuning his guitar.

“Oh God. Are you going to serenade me?”

“I’m gonna show you what’s what in a minute. Hang on.” He continues tuning.

I check my phone when it buzzes. It’s not Shane. Harley has been texting me nonstop ever since I told her that I was fired and I’m going to New York for the job interview. Texts like “Yeah, girl! Boss up and change your life!” and “Walk that fine ass out that door.”

HARLEY: I’ve got a bottle of tequila I’ve been saving for you!

ME: I’m fine and I can’t go out. I have a flight to catch tomorrow. Stop quoting Lizzo songs at me. XOXO

HARLEY: Holy shit. I’m so impressed that you actually know who Lizzo is, I’m backing down.

ME: Peace out, sister.