Page 62 of The Incredible Ordinary

Do I?

I don’t know what to say to that.

“And Rory seems more settled lately,” he continues.

I don’t want to jinx it, but he does. We’ve somehow managed to cobble together a routine, and where that word has always made me scoff with derision before, I can’t find it in me right now to go in search of that long-held disdain.

“What I’m trying to say is that… I know you didn’t relish the idea of being here, but I really don’t know how any of us would manage without you.”

I stare at him. “Are you dying?”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m trying to show my appreciation. People, as I understand it, generally thrive when you acknowledge their input.”

“Is that something they programmed you to say when they sent you on your mission to Earth, or whatever it’s known as on your planet?”

“E56732. Also known as disaster ball, colloquially.” He sighs. “I know you’re shouldering this whole thing right now, and that I guilted you into this. I feel bad about it, too, believe me. So, I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I’ll try to do better. I’ve been working on rearranging my schedule this past week, and I’ve managed to clear two afternoons a week, so consider those your time off. I’ll deal with homework, chores, cooking, whatever else there is.” His brow furrows in concentration, as if he’s trying to remember what else he had on his list. “Oh, and I’ll take him to soccer practice, so you can take that off your plate, too.”

It’s a nice offer.

Very considerate of him.

“Sure. Take cooking, groceries, curfew. Go nuts. But I get soccer because Theo’s father is fucking hot, and I deserve the eye candy. It’s the only thing that gets me through the week.”

Aiden, predictably, looks conflicted as hell.

“Is that a good idea?” he asks.

“Admiring what’s right in front of me? Baby brother, I don’t think you grasp just how fucking beautiful that man is. It’s like telling me not to look at an exquisite work of art. Why would you deprive me of the experience? It’s like somebody telling you, ‘Here’s a Van Gogh. Now make sure to close your eyes tightly and don’t open them until you’ve exited the gallery.’”

Aiden looks both exasperated and like he’s fighting off a smile. “That’s not even remotely the same thing.”

“How? It’s art.”

“It’s not. It’s you lusting after the father of the kidourkid punched in the face. Tell me you see the problem. Please, oh God, please tell me you see where the conflict of interest might come in here?”

“I’m not going to do anything. I know how art works. You look, but you don’t touch.”

“The analogy has really run its course by now.”

“It fits too perfectly to stop.”

Aiden lets out a deep exhale. “Just don’t do anything stupid. And by stupid, I mean anything that’d make things more difficult for Rory.”

“Believe it or not, I do have some self-control left somewhere.”

Aiden doesn’t look like he believes me.

I start patting through my pockets while I frown. “Now where the hell did I put it last time?”

“I’m sleep deprived, out of my depth, and for the first time in my life, pathetically behind on my to-do list,” Aiden says. “Keep this up, and I might snap.”

“What does that look like in your case?” I tilt my head to the side and lean forward, lowering my voice. “Will you… file an official complaint?”

He rolls his eyes.

“Or write a strongly worded note where you underline something in blue ink instead of black?”

Aiden does not look impressed with me.