Page 24 of Truly, Madly, Deeply

Caitlin made grabby hands. “Best big brother, ever.”

Colin laughed. “You want to really show your appreciation? Say that in front of Caleb the next time I’m around.”

Caitlin grinned. “Consider it done.”

“Who’s Caleb?” Truly asked.

“Our brother,” Caitlin said.

Colin shook an iced drink in Truly’s face. “Here.”

She studied the Sharpie scribble along the side of the plastic cup. Iced quad grande oat milk latte with two pumps of vanilla syrup. She took the coffee from him. “What is this?”

“Other than an egregious amount of caffeine?” Colin dropped the gym bag he was carrying and sat beside her. “It’s your order, isn’t it?”

“You knew that how?”

“He fished it out of the garbage after you left,” Caitlin said, tapping away at her phone. “Like the total freak he is.”

“Jesus H. Christ, Caitlin,” he complained. “Is nothing sacred?”

“Whoops.” She looked up from her phone and grinned, chewing on her straw. “Was I not supposed to say that?”

Truly stifled a laugh. “Circling back to you being a stalker...”

“How’d I know you were going to say that?” He groaned, head flopped back, and eyes pinched shut as if he were in pain. “I just wanted to do something nice, okay?” He cracked open one eye. “Consider it a gesture of goodwill.”

She took a sip and—oh, yeah. That was the shit. Nectar of the gods in a plastic cup. “As long as you continue to use your creeper powers for good, not evil, who am I to complain?” Truly swallowed another mouthful of iced coffee deliciousness and with it, a groan. So good. “Whatever you’re preemptively apologizing for? Consider it forgiven.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll be the one apologizing today,” Colin said. “But on the off chance things do get heated...”

He unzipped his gym bag.

“No one wants to sniff your sweaty gym socks.” Caitlin wrinkled her nose.

“Hey,” he warned. “I bet my gym socks could fetch a high price on some fetish site.”

Caitlin gagged. “I don’t wanna yuck anyone’s yum, but barf.”

Truly covered her giggle with another sip of her latte.

“You’ll be eating those words when my gym sock OnlyFans makes us millions.”

“I’ll pay you to say the words gym sock OnlyFans at our next family dinner.” Caitlin chortled. “Mom’ll have a conniption fit.”

“As if she doesn’t have one every time we all get together?” Colin’s smile was thin, his voice tight. Curiously so.

Caitlin wiped tears from her eyes. “Yeah, but about normal things. Like how we’re both awful disappointments and she wishes we were more like her precious Caleb. Not her son selling his sweaty socks on the internet for kinksters to fap into.”

In what universe were Colin, a successful lawyer, and Caitlin, a semi-famous internet personality, awful disappointments? They both had health insurance, which was a sad, sad barometer for success, but more than Truly could claim.

Colin rolled his eyes. “I didn’t bring my gym socks. I didn’t even go to the gym today.”

Truly leaned forward, peering curiously into the bag that contained a—football helmet? No, two football helmets. “Um.”

Without warning, Colin grabbed the smaller of the two helmets, a scuffed mustard-yellow eyesore, and plopped it onto her head. It smelled faintly of gym socks.

Truly glared.

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