Page 103 of These Family Ties

I need to change before I see Brodie for dinner.

I fry up the fish in garlic butter and herbs and serve it on a bed of rice. I change into dry clothes and take the food to Brodie.

"Lunch is ready," I say as I walk in.

She's sitting up, hugging her knees.

"Have you been crying?" I ask, concerned.

"I just want to go home," she says quietly. "I miss Mom."

"No, you don't, you hate Mom." I give her a reassuring smile. "I'm taking much better care of you anyway. Here, it's not too hot anymore."

I give her a plastic fork to eat with, and she takes the food. She turns her back to me as much as she can, and she snarfs down the food.

"Slowly, you're going to choke."

"I would kill for a cheeseburger," she comments. "From the diner in town."

"It's a bit far away, but I'll see what I can do," I comment. I notice her face fall, and I lean over, kissing her shoulder.

"It'll be okay. You need to get used to the new normal, Brodie." I start to eat my food. I'm on guard, though, and when she flips around to stab at me with her plastic fork, I grab her hand and take it away from her.

"Eitan," she groans out. "Let me go."

"No," I say sternly as I stand up. "Now you can eat with your hands."

Chapter Two

Brodie

"My mother can never know," I say as I take a swig of vodka.

The man I'm with, Harry, smiles as he ogles my breasts, stretching my little crop top. "She'll never know," he says.

"Good." I giggle, taking another swig.

Harry leans over and kisses my neck. I tip my head away from him, giving him better access.

I look out the window and see a shadowy figure standing off down the road facing us, and I know who it is.

It's my creepy brother keeping an eye on me.

"Argh, I have to go. My brother is here."

"Ignore him," Harry murmurs, reaching to grope my breasts.

I kiss his cheek. "I'll give you a call." I climb out of the car, and Harry curses quietly. Something about blue balls and excuses: I don't really care.

I walk down the road toward my brother's silhouette. He's in a hoodie and jeans, and he has a bandana up over his face. It's one of those with a monster mouth on it, so it looks like his mouth instead. It's creepy as shit.

"Hello, loser," I say. "I don't need you checking on me."

He stares at me as I walk past him. "Let's go then before Mom has a fit."

I walk ahead of him, swaying my hips. I hum quietly to a popular song when I feel something move around my shoulder. Before I can turn around, a foul-smelling cloth is clamped over my nose and mouth while another arm holds me back against my brother.

It is my brother, right? It isn't just anyone.

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