Page 20 of Implode

Collins doesn’t answer to me, yet the level of respect is there. He is Graham’s right-hand man and has really spent the last year solidifying his loyalty to him.

“Are you surprised, huh? Are you?” Penny asks, pushing me out of the way so she can make her way inside my space. She glances around my abode, looking for I don’t know what. “Are you hiding any females?”

“What?” I give my baby sisterthe look.

“You are, aren’t you?”

“What the hell, Penny? Intrusive much?”

“It’s okay if you are. I wouldn’t blame you or anything. But at least warn me in advance so I can brace myself.”

“No, Penny,” I say with a huff. “There’s no one else here.”

I give a wave to Collins and send him on his way. He knows I’ll get Penny safely back to Hillsboro when it is time for her to go. Every time she gets out of the facility on a short leave, she stays with our parents, so it’s a safe assumption she’ll return there. In the meantime, we have a lot to catch up on.

“I expected at least to catch you doing something more exciting,” she says with a pout. “You can be so”—she pauses and taps a finger to her chin—“boring.”

“What did you want to find here? An orgy? A concubine?”

She makes a face and plops down on my sofa, making herself at home in my apartment—despite only being here one other time. “Ew, gross. I just thought by now you would settle down. Sex parties have to get old after a while.”

“It was a joke, Pen. Judgmental much? Haven’t Graham and Angie fulfilled your excitement-o-meter enough with their upcoming wedding? Surely those lovebirds have maxed you out on the squee factor.”

Penny giggles, and it is so good to hear, even if most of it is at my expense. I prefer that any day over the shell she became after an incident that nearly shattered her life. I remember all the years that Penny used to come to my wrestling matches and cheer Graham and me on and how excited she would get. Just seeing her this full of life again gives me hope that she may be okay. This whole past year was a wake-up call for the family to learn not to take people for granted. Getting wrapped up in the wrong type of crowd can do that to someone. Plus, her track record of trusting people who are bad for her blatantly sucks. I’m not sure if Penny will ever be the same after being drugged and wondering if she was raped, but having justice served to those that did her wrong helped her cope. After months and months of intense therapy, she is finally morphing back to the baby sister I grew up with, the one I would pick on and torment in good fun.

Oh, how the tides have turned. Now, she is dishing everything right back at me.

“I don’t mean it in a negative way, Nic. I’m just wanting you to find some happiness like Graham. Ever since you moved back here, you haven’t really tried to make any efforts with women.”

“How do you know I haven’t?”

“Because if you had, you wouldn’t find the need to micromanage my potential release from the facility. See? I’m doing well again.”

I sigh. Penny does appear to be on the path to overcoming her past trauma. However, she is good at putting on a show if it means getting what she wants. Being the baby in the family has trained her for this role. But is it too soon for a release? What if she has a relapse or an emotional breakdown that sends her back to the facility? A backslide may push back her recovery, and I’m not sure Penny would be able to endure getting officially discharged just to go back again.

For the first time in months, I’ve seen genuine excitement and hope in her eyes that once were so dull I didn’t think they would ever come alive again. None of us want to disappoint her. The entire family wants what is best for her.

“C’mon, Nic.”

“Penny, it’s not that I ever wanted you to stay there forever. I just want to make sure it is safe and healthy for you to get acclimated again to life outside of that place. Less chance of a relapse.”

“I swear you and Graham are the same person sometimes.”

I quirk a brow at her and sit opposite her on the sofa, bending my knee up onto the cushion. “We both know I am way smarter.”

We both laugh—just like old times—and it feels so good. Penny gets up and walks into my kitchen in search of snacks. She rummages around in the pantry and cupboards until she finds a bag of popcorn to pop. Good, because I can’t seem to perfect the art of not burning it ninety-five percent of the time. She throws it into the microwave, sets the timer, and hovers nearby until she decides it is done. It still burns.

“How do you mess it up when you are literally standing there watching?” I tease.

“Making popcorn is a fine art.”

I laugh as she tosses the burnt bag into the trash and then throws in another one to start the whole process over again. I can’t even tell if this one will be better, because the only thing I smell is the horrid stench from the previous attempt.

This is Penny’s way of changing the subject off herself. She uses snack detours as a distraction. I fish my phone out of my pocket and check for any messages or email. I sneak a peek at the tracking app, just because I cannot go but a few hours without looking. It isn’t until I hear the eruption of laughter that I look back into the kitchen and see Penny hovering her head inside the fridge.

“I cannot unsee this! I cannot,” she squeals, backing out and covering her eyes. “I need to scrub my eyes. Ew, Nic. Ew.”

“What’s wrong?” I can’t tell if Penny is being overly dramatic or is genuinely shocked.

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