Page 7 of Turning Tides
Cyrus stilled. “Come again?”
I let my arms drop and hooked my thumbs in my front pockets. I didn’t want to look or sound as defensive as I had been. “Mickey lets you fuss over him. You show that kid a scrap of affection and he thrives under it. I have the feeling it’s the opposite with your brother.”
“He won’t let me help him. I’m lucky he’s even staying at my place. Even though I bitch about that sometimes—to you, where he can’t hear me—I like having him around, but I want to do more to help him.”
“And he doesn’t want you to.”
Cyrus nodded. After a deep breath, he went back to loading the dishes, more calmly this time.
Running my tongue over my teeth, I allowed only a moment to talk myself out of saying anything.
“So don’t help him.”
Cyrus looked at me like I’d grown several heads.
“Maybe you’re not what he needs right now. I know you’re his brother, but sometimes that kind of love can be to smothering. There’s expectations attached. It’s a lot ofpressure.”
Cyrus stopped what he was doing and watched me for several seconds before his shoulders relaxed. “If he’s not willing to ask me for help, I hope he asks someone. Now get out of my kitchen.”
“Love you too, Cyrus.”
I took his dismissal with a grain of salt. I knew from experience what it was like to have a brother you wanted the best for, but didn’t always see eye to eye with.
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you meant, though. Admit it.”
Cyrus shoved the tray of dishes into the dishwasher and lowered the door, starting the cycle. “Idiots. I’m surrounded by idiots.”
I left Cyrus to his kitchen and I went out front and worked the bar. So what if I was still thinking of Archer hours later? So what if he was exactly my type? What Cyrus never knew wouldn’t hurt me.
Chapter 4
Archer
I knew the momentCyrus strutted out of the kitchen that coming here had been a bad idea. His usually unruly hair was tamed by a bandana, highlighting the deep furrow between his eyebrows. The one he got whenever he was thinking too much. The one he always had when he looked at me lately, like I was a problem he had to solve.
Cyrus thumped a plate down in front of me. Burgers were my weakness. Hell, food was my weakness.
“Eat. You’re too skinny.”
And there went my appetite.
“Can you not? You sound like Grandma.” Grandma had forever been shoving food at people. No matter their shape, size, age, or authority, she’d push food on them and tell them they were too thin. It was cute if you were a doddering old woman. Less cute coming from Cyrus.
“It’s true. Do you even eat? I swear you’ve lost weight.”
I did eat… but I had lost weight recently. I skipped breakfast to get out of the house so I wouldn’t disturb Cyrus and Marshall’s life any more than I’d already done. Stress killed my appetite the other half the day. When I got back to their place, a plate of dinner was always waiting for me, which I dutifully ate.
Instead of saying any of that, I picked up my burger, held his gaze, and took the biggest bite I could manage.
“Real mature.” Cyrus rolled his eyes, but thankfully he took the hint and stopped pestering me. For thirty seconds. “What did you do today?”
I shrugged. “The usual.”
Cyrus sliced the air with his hands. He always had been quick to anger and though he wasn’t angry yet, he was definitely annoyed.
“What does that even mean? You’re like a fucking ghost. You’re never home. You live with me, but I never fucking see you. I don’t know what you’re doing all day or if you’re okay. Jesus Christ, Archer.”
