Page 61 of Nathan

“Nate.” Another arm shake followed by a second punch. “What are you talking about?”

He swats the air with his hand. “Need sleep.”

And before I can say another word, he turns over. Within seconds, he’s snoring.

Unfortunately for me, Nate’s untimely arrival has thwarted any chance of sleep. I climb out of bed and tiptoe across the room, not that it makes a difference to him. A pneumatic drill starting up right next to his ear wouldn’t rouse him. He’ll wake up with one hell of a headache tomorrow.

The living area is quiet when I stroll into the kitchen. Taking a leaf out of Millie’s book, I put a pan on the stove and half-fill it with milk. Within a couple of minutes, tiny bubbles form across the top. I remove it from the heat in case it gets a skin and pour it into a cup, adding two heaped spoonsful of sugar. Then I take a seat at the breakfast bar and sip.

What on earth had Nate meant, not proper brothers? When I was younger, I’d occasionally disown Elva as a sister—usually when she wouldn’t do as I wanted—but Nate isn’t a child, and he hasn’t fallen out with his siblings. He’d fallen out with me, but that’s it.

I rub my forehead. None of this makes sense. Not his immature tantrum which resulted in him storming out, nor his refusal to have a proper discussion on the subject. And now he’s gotten so drunk he can barely speak.

I finish my milk and, with a heavy sigh, go back to bed.

I must drop off eventually because the sun wakes me. Groaning, I glance at my watch. Seven-thirty. Nate rolled in around two, which means he won’t wake up for a while yet. He’s still dressed in his clothes and shoes from the previous evening, and I watch his chest rise and fall, vowing that he can get as angry as he likes, but I’m not letting him get away with avoiding an adult discussion any longer.

I take a quick shower, dress, then leave Nate still snoring to go out for a walk. I plug Central Park into the maps app on my cell and set off. Nate planned for us to visit the park today, but given the sizeable hangover he’ll have, chances are he’ll spend the day lounging around on the couch, no doubt feeling sorry for himself. Well, screw him. I’ll sightsee on my own. There’s no way I’m coming all the way to New York City without ticking off every single must-see item on my list.

The park comes into view, and I spot a bike rental shop down a side street. A selection of bikes is already lined up outside. I wander inside, and after filling out a form and paying a deposit and rental fee for an hour, I set off toward the park.

When I reached the Alice in Wonderland bronze sculpture, I stop and kick out the stand on my bike. I read about this when researching where to go, and it was at the top of my list. I love that book so much. Taking out my phone, I shoot a couple of pictures, but as I get back on the bike, my cell rings.

I glance down at the screen.

Nate.

Keeping my voice slow and steady, I answer. “You’re awake, then?”

“Where are you?”

In usual Nate style, his tone is brusque and demanding, and though I usually don’t mind, this morning, it grates.

“What’s it to you?”

A pause, followed by a deep sigh. “How long are you going to make me grovel?”

“Well, seeing as you haven’t even started yet, that’s difficult to answer.”

I swear I hear a low chuckle followed by a resounding sigh. “I’m sorry for snapping, okay? And for running out on you.”

“And for getting wasted. And for saying some horrible things, like calling me a bitch and then telling me to go fuck myself.”

“Jesus, you really are milking this for all it’s worth. I didn’t fucking mean it, you crazy woman. Any of it.”

“Do you remember what you said to me last night, after you came home stinking of booze and staggering all over the place?”

“Whatever it was, I’m guessing it wasn’t good.”

I leave the bike on its stand and perch on one of the toadstools in front of the Mad Hatter.

“Dex?” Concern and worry lace his voice when I don’t respond.

Good. Let him stew and think he’s been horrible when, in fact, his comments simply confused me.

“You still there?”

“You were so drunk you could barely stand. After you collapsed on the bed, I was worried about you being sick and choking. I asked if you wanted me to fetch a doctor. You were adamant in telling me no. So I asked if you wanted me to get your brothers. Your response, Nate, and I quote, was ‘Not my brothers. Not proper brothers.’ What did you mean by that?”

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