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Definitely not what I expected him to say.

“We called a plumber, but they can’t come until tomorrow at four.” Emerson sounds desperate, which is kind of funny.

“You know, if your toilet’s running, you should really catch it.”

“Wah wah,” Emerson says. “Same lame jokes I remember.”

“Did you want my help? Or was that a lame joke?”

“On second thought, that joke was clever.Soclever. Ha, ha, ha.”

It’s annoying that the first time I call in at least a week, he wants me to come fix a toilet, but I do want to pry for information, so I’m not really any better. “I can’t believe your grandmother doesn’t have someone on speed dial to deal with any problem, including plumbing.”

“Andre, her groundskeeper and handyman, is on a trip,” Emerson says. “But even if he wasn’t, this toilet is at the shelter.”

Of course it is. Where else would they be on a Sunday afternoon? I swear, if Elizabeth wasn’t such a kook about animals, I’d have thought she married Emerson for his money. The only thing that woman spends money on is horses and pathetic, unloved critters.

“If I come over, you have toswearyou aren’t going to try and fob one of those little fuzzies off on me.”

“You know, the tiny Shih Tzu you liked is still here,” he says. “He’s actually kind of whimpering right now, and. . .what’s that, Ivin? You miss Bea?”

I hang up.

On my way out the door, I glance down at my outfit. I’m still wearing the shabby plaid pajama pants and faded navy t-shirt that I slept in. Emerson got me the pajama pants a few years back for Christmas, and Jake gave me the shirt for my birthday when I was sixteen. It says, “Yeah, I’m short. God only lets things grow until they’re perfect. Why are you so tall?” I would normally change before leaving the house, but I’m going to be working on a toilet, and when I’m done, they’ll probably need help with the kennels.

The last time I went over, I ruined a brand new pairof khaki capri pants Jake gave me for my birthday. They were designer, which he told me in a very high-pitched voice as I tossed the urine soaked and scratched pants in the wash. To be fair, I think his tone was less about my pants and their condition and more about the clothes he already had in the washer. Apparently he didn’t want them marinated in my filth.

Anyway, I’m nearly to my ten-year-old Toyota Camry when Jake pulls into the spot next to me in his Nissan Z. He claims it’s ‘not flashy,’ and that it lets him ‘fly under the radar.’ I might’ve believed him if it wasn’t electric blue.

“Where you off to?” He scrunches up his nose. “Nowhere public, I hope.”

Jake never leaves the house without looking like he’s ready to walk onto the set of some commercial or other. Ironically, he often spends half of his movie scenes covered with fake blood or carefully designed grime, but in real life, he’s pristine.

I heft my home repair tool bag across to the passenger seat. “I’m helping Emerson with a toilet.”

“That’s even worse than anything I imagined.” He shakes his head as he walks past me. He throws a hand back in a half-hearted wave. “If you run into trouble. . .” He laughs. “Don’t call me. I definitely won’t answer.”

“You’re an amazing brother,” I shout. “The best!”

He pivots from where he’s standing on our threshold. “You know, that guy could hire a full-time plumber to just be on call, and no one would ever notice. Why on earth he needs to make his sister go over there to work on a toilet. . .” He’s still grumbling as he walks through the door and disappears.

I think Jake’s problem is that he spent so long taking advantage of people that he always thinks people aretrying to bilk him. No one I know is more sensitive to someone else asking for a favor—he repays everything anyone ever does for him, and he expects everyone else to do the same. Not with me, but with literally every other person in his life.

On the drive to Emerson’s, I intend to think about what kind of outfit I should wear to the finals on Tuesday. Instead, I keep thinking about Easton. What he does on Sundays. Does he work on weekends? What kind of pet he might have or want to have? Whether he likes helping at the shelter. Whether he’s a good mentor to that kid.

It’s the dumbest thing ever that after turning him down, twice really, I keep thinking about him. My one consolation is that no one else knows what I’m thinking. They can’t see my pathetic dreams or my ridiculous thoughts. And if I’m planning to work in questions about Easton while I help my brother selflessly, well, there’s no reason for me to feel bad about it.

Who would know what his love life is like better than Elizabeth?

That girl does not pull punches.

She does play dirty, though. When I walk through the door, there’s a box of puppies in the entryway. “Seriously?” One of them has a bow around its neck like I’ve walked into some kind of Hallmark movie. “You guys are disgustingly obvious.”

“You think we put cute puppies in a box there just so you’d see them and want one?” Emerson waves me through. “Please. Someone dumped those guys twenty minutes ago. People are the worst.”

I crouch down. “They do look like little angels.” The one closest to me clamps down on my index finger and Irevise my assessment. “They’re actually gremlins, aren’t they?”

“We think they’re some kind of German Shepherd cross.” Emerson tugs on my shoulder. “But for real, thank you. This stupid facility has a septic, and it’s one of the dumb newer ones with the water tanks that have to spray off. I was starting to worry we’d wind up with toilets backing up any time.”

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