Page 40 of Memphis

“Missed what?”

“You got a thing for my brother.”

“What? No!”

“Yeah. You do.” Goose shook his head and scoffed, “Hell, you got a thing for your brother. Damn."

“Stop.” I felt my cheeks burn even hotter, and I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "It's not like that. I was just asking a simple question.”

"Uh-huh," Goose said, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "We both know better than that.”

“Even if I did have a thing for him, it wouldn’t matter. He’s my stepbrother.”

“Ah, don’t give me that shit. You two are grown-assed adults. That stepbrother bullshit doesn’t matter.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Doesn’t have to be.”

“Why do people keep saying that? It’s not like it just stops being complicated because I want it to.”

“It could. You just gotta stop making things so hard, 'cause I got a feeling it’s not as complicated as you might think.”

“Maybe.” I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I just don’t know anymore. Him getting hurt really messed with my head. It’s made me see things a little differently.”

“Don’t worry. Things have a way of working out.”

I looked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. "You really think so?"

"I know so.”

"Thanks, Goose," I said, feeling a rush of gratitude. "This has been nice."

"Maybe for you," he said, his smile returning. "I had this coffee date playing out a whole lot different than it did.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. I got to enjoy a decent cup of coffee with a beautiful lady. Can’t think of a better way to spend an afternoon.”

“There you go being sweet again.”

“Watch it, now. You’re gonna kill my reputation.” He gave me a wink, then added, “But seriously, if things ever get too complicated, just give me a shout, and I’ll help you work things out."

"I’d appreciate that. Thanks.”

As we finished our coffee, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. Goose might be a flirt, but he was a good friend. And right now, that was exactly what Weston needed. It was what I needed, too.

After leaving the coffee shop, I headed back up to the room to see Weston. We talked for a bit, and when he started to get tired, I went back to his place to get some work done. Over the next few days, I went back and forth between Weston’s place and the hospital. It wasn’t too bad. Weston’s house was fairly close to thehospital, so I was able to juggle things pretty well with work—or so I thought.

I was back at Weston’s and making myself a bite to eat when my cell phone rang. The sharp sound sliced through the quiet, causing me to jump with a start. I quickly wiped my hands, then picked up the phone and answered, “Hello?”

“Antonia, it's Mark."

“Hey, Mark. How’s it going?”

"Okay, I guess. I was just checking in.”

“I appreciate it. I’d say things are going pretty well. How about there?”

---