Page 143 of Between the Lines

The thought ofsellingour home so that she can live out her dreams comfortably while he, what, has to lose the last tether to our parents? He deserves atleastthat, after I stole them from him.

Claire deserves the world too, Nathan.

My subconscious needs to have a hammer taken to it.

Instead of pulling out the paperwork, instead of trying to figure out what we’re going to do once the property taxes fully submerge me, I spend the night catching up with my brother—actually listening and paying attention this time. I get a glimpse of what we could have been, had cancer and a car crash not derailed our lives.

You can still have it, Nathan. Loosen the reins. Let him go.

“Oh, wow. That’s still there?”

In the middle of a conversation, Cal stands and walks past me to something he must have seen over my shoulder. When I turn, he’s rubbing his thumb over a dent in the wall beside the decorative table.

“You thought you were that Red Sox pitcher,” I chuckle.

“Pedro Martinez. But my chess-prodigy brother couldn’t catch for shit.”

I look to my brother. He’s smiling. Reminiscing. It’s a knife to my gut when he says, “Lotta good memories in this place.”

I’m saddened when my brother stands to leave. There’s an angry snowstorm rolling in, and he wants to make it back to his place so that he secures a good parking spot before it hits later in the week. After he leaves, I reflect on the mountain that nowsits atop my chest.

The sheer joy it brings me to see him living out his dream is where my roads cross.

Cal is moving on from the demons of our past and living out the life he always deserved.

Shouldn’t Claire have that, too?

fifty-seven

claire

“How are things with Boss-Daddy?”

“Ew.” I scrunch my nose at my roommate. “Don’t call him that.”

Penelope smirks over her salad-loaded fork, then takes a bite.

“C’mon. I live vicariously through my own fictional characters and my unmarried friends. Considering the fact that Aaron is like, sixty seconds away from proposing,youare my only victim.”

“Nice try. You just said that your fictional characters fulfill your single status.”

She groans, sets her fork into the plastic container, and lifts her water to her lips.

“They would be.Ifthey’d do anything.”

“Aww, not my babies Finn and Delilah! What’s wrong with them?”

“I think the better question is, whatisn’twrong with them.”

She rests her chin in her hand with a defeatedHumph.

“Is this the part where being the roommate who knows the secret author life comes in handy? Because I’ve readwaytoo many fanfictions, and could probably give you notebooks of ideas.”

“Wait. People write fanfiction about my books?”

“Uh. I mean, youcould say that.”

“They’re dirty, aren’t they?”

---