Honestly? I don’t want him to stop.
Hayden and Carter have been wrapped up in each other all afternoon. He can barely keep his hands off her hips or around her back, tucking her into his side. It’s great to see him so happy.
My brother strides over to the three of us and lowers his sunglasses to look at me. “Wanna take a dip?”
“Are we not invited?” Scar scoffs playfully.
“Twin time.” Walker smiles. “Because Janie has been too busy for her big brother lately.”
I roll my eyes. “Please, you’re just as busy as I am.” But he’s not wrong. We’re finally in the same city again and have barely seen each other.
Following Walker out to the pool, I drape my coverup over one of the chairs and step into the water. It’s warm and smooth but also refreshing on such a hot day. As I stand in the shallow end, the water comes up to my hips and it tickles the bottom of my stomach.
I grab the hair tie off my wrist and pull my hair up into a messy bun. If I can avoid getting my hair wet today and save myself from washing it tonight, I will.
Walker sets his sunglasses on the table and then sighs contentedly as he enters the pool. But unlike me, who is trying to keep my top half dry, he flops back and submerges himself. When he shoots out of the water, he shakes his head, sending drops of water from his hair flying.
“Watch it!”
He shakes it again.
“Asshole.”
He swims toward the deep end and bobs in the water. I grab one of the floaties and lean forward on it, allowing it to hold me up as my legs dangle.
“So twin time,” I say, “what’s up?”
“Does something have to be up for me to want to hang out with my favorite sister?”
“Only sister,” I remind him.
“Nothing’s up,” he says, his beefy arms treading beneath the water. “I just miss you.”
I open my mouth to say I miss him too, when I take notice of the strain around his eyes. Heavy lines crease the corners of them and their usual playfulness is dulled. I propel myself toward him and hold out my hand.
“Give me your hand,” I say when he frowns, making agive memotion.
“No.”
“James...”
He knows I won’t drop it. Reluctantly, he holds one of his hands in front of my face before pulling it back to resume treading water. It was brief, but long enough for me to confirm what I suspected. His nails are chewed down to the bed. It’s a stress habit he’s had since we were children. My mom used to try wrapping Band-Aids around his fingers but it never worked.
“I’m fine,” he says before I can comment.
“Don’t lie to me.” I’m surprised I can even say that without getting struck by lightning considering I’ve been lying to him for years.
He stares at the hills behind me.
“Is it work?” He seemed excited over lunch to talk about the artists he’s been working with, but maybe he’s feeling the band’s absence as much as Nikolai has.
“No, that’s been going good,” he says. “Really, I’m fine.”
“You’re clearly not. What’s stressing you out?”
“Jane,” he snaps. “I can’t talk about it right now. Okay?”
His aggressiveness takes me aback. We rarely raise our voices at each other; especially not since we’ve been adults. My gut reaction is to push harder, dig deeper, and pull it out of him. Whatever it is, I want to help. Has something been going on for a while now, and because of my own secret, I’ve missed it? The idea makes my stomach turn.