Page 23 of Delicate Escape

As I stared at the device, the screen shifted—an incoming video call. Relief swept through me at having an excuse not to answer Mara’s text. I hit accept, and Cope’s face filled the screen, his penthouse apartment in downtown Seattle as the backdrop.

“Dude,” he clipped. “Are you avoiding me?”

I grabbed a beer from the fridge and let the door shut as I straightened. “Some of us actually work for a living, dipshit.”

“It might be offseason, but my ass was in the gym at six this morning.”

Opening one of my drawers, I fumbled for a bottle opener. “Do you want a gold star? I could make you a little chart. I was up at five-thirty and just got home. What have you been doing all afternoon?”

Cope scowled into the camera in answer.

I barked out a laugh. “Sitting on your ass playing Xbox?”

His silence was my answer.

“That’s what I thought. Now, what’s so important that you called me”—I checked the count on my notifications—“eight times? Or were you just bored?” I knew it hadn’t been an emergency. If anything was truly urgent, Cope would’ve followed the call with a text saying he needed to talk. But my younger brother had been hovering lately, sending me into avoidance mode.

Cope shifted on his couch. “I wanted to hear about your haunted house.”

“It’s not haunted.”

Cope arched a brow. “That shit needs to be exorcised before you start work. I’d call a priest ASAP. Maybe get some holy water. I bet you can order it on Amazon these days.”

My lips twitched. “I think I’ll be good.”

“You gonna stay in the Craftsman while you rehab?”

I shook my head. “Jennie’s putting it on the market next week.”

Cope let out a low whistle. “Where are you gonna stay?”

“Not sure yet. Probably a rental.” Given how busy things had been, I hadn’t had time to look for one, but I could put Jennie on the case.

“Stay at my place. There’s plenty of room, and I won’t be home for a few weeks.”

I took a long pull from my beer, letting the cool liquid wash away the day. “You know me. I need my own space.”

While Cope’s house on its large pond outside of town was massive, he’d be interfering the moment he got back. And with our youngest sister, Arden, living in a guesthouse on the property, it was a little too much family togetherness for me.

It wasn’t that I didn’t love them or want to spend time with them. It was that I needed to know I had space and time to let everything go. To not have to be…on.

Cope frowned. The expression looked foreign on his face. “You always did like your weird little alone time.”

I snorted. Cope and Fallon were the Colsons’ biological children, along with Jacob, before he passed. So, we’d been together since the two of them were born. Cope knew all about my need to retreat. When we were growing up, I’d go to the treehouse or the creek—anywhere I could just breathe.

“Maybe I’m into meditation or just wanted to get away from your nosy ass.” At four years younger than my thirty-four, Cope had been my constant tagalong.

“Hey, you asked me for playoff tickets. Now who’s the tagalong?”

I grinned. “Fair enough. But what can I say? It’s always a joy to watch you get your ass kicked.”

Cope glared at me through the phone. “When I get home, you and I are hitting that new rink. I’ll show you an ass-kicking.”

There’d be no contest. Cope would wipe the ice with me. He was a beast. As easygoing as he was off the ice, he turned into another person when his skates hit it. It made me wonder what my brother was keeping so bottled up.

“Fair enough.” I glanced at my watch. “I gotta go. I need to stop at Arden’s before I run to family dinner.”

“Okay, but quick. How are you doing?”

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