Page 1 of Best Served Cold

1

ZANE

“It’s hot as balls today.” River, my twin brother, sat beside me on the dusty floor of the house that was our current jobsite and swiped my water bottle out of my hand. “Ahh,” he exhaled. “Thanks, bro.”

I waited for him to guzzle another mouthful then snatched it back.

“For real.” Gray, one of our best friends, flopped down on my other side. He pushed his blond hair back from his forehead. “I’m drenched.” Tipping his head back, he dumped a healthy amount of water onto his forehead.

River snickered. “Well, now you are.” He reached around me and snagged Gray’s bottle. “Thanks.” He winked then took a long drink.

Gray waited for River to finish before he grabbed it back. “How much time do we have for our break?”

“Another ten or so.” I took another drink then let River finish mine off.

“You really need to start remembering to bring your own water,” Gray said to River.

He elbowed me. “It’s his fault for not reminding me.”

“I did remind you,” I said, a hint of affection creeping into my voice.

“But you only reminded me once. That’s on you, bro.” River grinned at me in his usual, happy way.

I stretched out my legs, my lips twitching with a smile. “My bad.”

While my brother had a terrible memory for some things, his mind was a steel trap for others. He regularly forgot where he put his keys, if he brushed his teeth that day, and even to eat, but he could remember the exact location of his favorite pencils in his disaster zone of a bedroom or recall a conversation we’d had four years ago. Word for word.

“How does your brain remember that you forgot something, but it can’t remember what you forgot?” River wondered.

“Do you actually remember that you forgot something, or is it your subconscious picking up on your anxiety around the missing memory?” Rath asked, settling his big body onto the floor a few feet from Gray.

“Wouldn’t realizing you have a missing memory be the same as remembering you forgot something?” I asked, unable to stop myself.

Normally I tried to keep my mouth shut whenever Rath joined in on our conversations. He seemed to make it his life’s mission to counter everything I said or try to start stupid arguments.

Rath’s gaze shifted to me, his stupid face twisting up in a big grin. “Is it, though?” Here we go. “Think about it. How many times have you walked into a room and gotten that ‘oh shit’ feeling and you stop and think ‘why did I come in here?’”

“All the freaking time!” River nodded enthusiastically. “Like today. I totally blanked that I was getting my water and stood in the kitchen for like, two minutes, trying to remember why I was there. Like, I knew I forgot to get something, but I couldn’t remember what.”

“Exactly,” Rath said. “So were you actually remembering that you forgot something, or did you realize a memory was missing and that triggered the thought that you forgot something?”

“That’s deep, dude.” River toasted Rath with my water bottle.

“As deep as a puddle.” I swiped it from him.

River gave me a look that told me he knew I’d only taken it back because he’d used it to give Rath props for something.

“You can drown in a puddle.” Rath’s sly smile melted into a sweet one. “Doesn’t have to be deep to be effective.”

“That’s what she said.” River wagged his eyebrows.

Rath grinned at my brother. “Is that really something you want to advertise?”

River paused and looked up, like he was doing some mental math. “Dude!” He barked out a laugh. “You just reverse Unoed me into saying I have a small dick.”

Gray snort-laughed and ended up spitting water all over Rath.

“Charming.” Rath wiped his cheek.

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