Page 75 of Broken Instrument

Phoenix: Sure thing. We’ll meet you there.

Stokes: I’ll grab some pizza.

Dove: See you soon. :)

I don’t miss the lack of response from Sonny, but I refuse to overthink it as I shove my phone back into my pocket and walk toward Hadley’s place, where my car is still parked. It’s time I face the music. And my brother. Even if it kills me.

* * *

“Oh. Hey, Fen!” Dove greets me in the kitchen at the house. Pixie pads toward her, sniffs Dove’s black leggings, and deems her safe. Then, she runs up the stairs to visit Penny, Maddie and Milo’s daughter. They’ve gotten close over the past few weeks, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I come home to a new puppy one of these days they can call their own. I shake my head as I watch Pixie’s massive butt wiggle back and forth as she makes her way to Penny’s room. I can almost see her squeezing through the cracked door as I wipe my sweaty palms against my jeans and turn back to Dove.

“Hey, Dove.” I head closer and pull her into a hug. The blonde pixie feels like a twig in my arms as she stands on her tiptoes and squeezes me tightly.

“I missed you,” she murmurs. I can hear the sincerity in her voice. Hell, I can feel it in her embrace, and I’m surprised by how much I’ve missed her. The little sister I never had.

I close my eyes and squeeze her harder as the realization washes over me. “Missed you, too, Dovey.”

“Thanks for texting today.”

“Thanks for being patient while I got the balls to text,” I return.

With a sweet smile and a soft laugh, she pats my chest and steps away from me. “I get it. I mean, I don’t get it get it, but I get it.”

“I get it,” I reply.

She laughs again and rolls her eyes. “Good. I want you to know Gibson gets it too.”

My smile falls as I squeeze the back of my neck and blow out a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have said the things I did the other night.”

“He may have mentioned a thing or two.”

“Is he going to be at lunch?” I ask.

With a one-shouldered shrug, she says, “You should ask him yourself. He’s upstairs.”

“I thought you guys found a place?”

“We’re still looking. We’ve been staying at Sammie’s for now, so you could have some space.”

“You guys didn’t have to do that.”

“We know.” The same sweet smile greets me, and she lifts her chin toward the stairs. “He’s in his old room. You should go say hi.”

I force myself to nod, turn on my heel before I can talk myself out of it, and call over my shoulder, “I’ll be down in a few.”

“Take your time,” she replies, watching me go.

Every step feels daunting as I head toward the second floor. My hand is raised and ready to knock on Sonny’s door when the familiar strumming of a guitar seeps through the crack.

I pause and rest my forehead against the doorjamb, listening to the song Gibson’s working on as guilt eats away at my lower gut. I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t know how to make things better. And I don’t know how to apologize while still expressing myself.

I learned in rehab bottling shit up isn’t healthy and can lead to relapses. But airing out past mistakes and regrets didn’t exactly feel helpful, either. Not when my brother won’t talk to me anymore because of it. Yeah, I probably should’ve had more tact when I told him how I felt, but I was like a volcano. I just erupted, and there’s no taking it back.

The wood casing digs into my forehead as I continue resting against it and close my eyes, listening to Sonny pluck at his guitar.

After a few minutes, Sonny calls, “I know you’re there, Fen. Get your ass in here.”

I roll my eyes but push open the door. Might as well get this over with.

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