Page 110 of The Incredible Ordinary

It comes with an unfurling coolness in my stomach.

Did last night happen or was it just a dream?

I push myself into a sitting position and look around the room. Still no sign of Jordan.

I slam down on my back and pull a pillow over my face.

It smells like Jordan.

There’s a set of clothes on the dresser, so I take them to the bathroom and get changed before I make my way downstairs. I hear voices coming from the kitchen, and I stop in the doorway. Theo and Rory are both sitting at the kitchen table with plates of scrambled eggs in front of them, Dog between them, hoping for scraps. Jordan is standing by the stove, stirring something in a pan while he says something I can’t quite hear over the buzzing in my ears, because Jordan first thing in the morning is perfect.

This is the kind of thing I should scoff at. I can’t seem to find it in me to do that. Instead, there’s inviting warmth pulling me forward.

Jordan looks up when he hears me approach and smiles at me.

“Sleepyhead,” he says, and hands me a plate.

He looks me up and down, his eyes shining, and suddenly there are no doubts left about whether last night was real or not.

Unsteady legs carry me to the table. I sit down next to Rory and nudge him with my shoulder. He glances at me.

“Sleep well?” I ask.

He hesitates for a moment, but then he nods. And there’s a small smile in the corner of his mouth.

“It was good.”

“Except for the mattress farts,” Theo says.

I raise my brows at him. He grins. “You have to put a sheet on the floor below the mattress, otherwise every time you turn it’s like—” He puts his palm over his mouth and executes an impressively accurate fart noise.

Rory’s eyes land on Theo. Theo grins like the devil, and Rory snorts.

Jordan sighs and points the spatula at Theo. “I distinctly remember teaching you manners at one point.”

“Yeah, but this falls under the unless clause,” Theo says.

“Do I want to know?”

“No fart noises. Unless they’re really funny.”

Rory lets out another snort, and when Theo looks at him, he dissolves into giggles.

I blink at the sight. My little brother, sitting in a sunny kitchen, laughing like a kid. And not only that. Those words—my little brother—they don’t feel like an unwelcome title that I’ve reluctantly accepted. They feel real. There’s weight behind those words. A responsibility that terrifies me and always has, but there’s a new dimension added to the fear. Now it also tempts me.

Now I kind of want it.

Now these giggles come with a sudden adrenaline rush I would never have even begun to associate with something so ordinary before.

It’s breakfast. Just breakfast. And yet, somehow, it feels just as meaningful as match point at Wimbledon ever did.

The fear is still there.

But I stay put.

I eat the veggies and scrambled eggs. I send Rory a pointed look when he’s done and ready to run off, and the two of us clean up. I sit at the kitchen table with Jordan after Rory and Theo have headed to the park with Dog, with the November sun warming my bare feet.

We talk and laugh. Nothing profound or important right now. We don’t even really talk about last night.