Page 19 of Severed Rivalry
“I guess.” Her shrug is accompanied with tears brimming her eyes.
“Ayla,” I call, waiting for her to look up at me. A tear streams down her cheek. “You’re not a crier. You’re a doer. Those tears”—I wave my hand in her general direction—“are telling. So use them. And then tell me what you need of me, and we’ll find a way to make it happen, okay?”
“What can I do to fix things?”
“I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out on our hike. That work?”
She nods a little, going back to her counter tracing.
“How hungry are you?”
She put her thumb and forefinger a little way apart. Yeah, that’s not going to work for an omelet, but I have an idea. The eggs in and sizzling, I dump the toppings on and add a healthy layer of pre-shredded cheese.
Once it’s mostly cooked, I toss it under the broiler. When it comes out bubbly and golden brown, I slice a piece and plate it up for her and make another for me.
“Coffee?” I lift the carafe her way only to see her decline. Oh shit, things are worse than they seem. Ayla never turns down coffee. I pour her some anyway and a glass of orange juice before taking the seat next to her.
I was right. Eleanor is between her legs, gazing up at my sister as if I don’t even exist. At my whistle, she goes to her bed to lie down, though if I had to guess, she’s most unhappy about the turn of events. She’s well trained but spoiled—the best of all worlds.
I push Ayla’s plate toward her. “Eat. You’ll regret it once we get on the trail if you don’t.”
Wordlessly, she stabs a bite and forks it into her mouth.
The women in my life… Mom is sick. Ayla has amnesia and is, well, Ayla, which says enough. Sariah is fearful. Renée is a teenager. And my perfect dog is huffing on her bed. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the universe was conspiring to outweigh my testosterone in one fell swoop.
“Eat up.” I wave my fork in the direction of her frittata after she waits too long. “My brain could use the fresh air. You need the sunshine. Eleanor loves to explore. We’ll come down better than we went up.”
“I didn’t bring any equipment.”
“Not everything is about work.”
“Pot,” she extends a hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Kettle.”
“Nolies detected.”
“Ugh, Ci. No. You’re too young to say that. I mean for an old guy, anyway.”
“Shut up, sis.” I step ahead of her on the trail, knowing Fitz has the rear, even if he’s unseen. Her bodyguard would be annoying if he weren’t so convenient. Too much shit has swirled around her to not have someone making sure she’s safe. Even after I told him I had this, he insisted. He’s well behind us. We’d never know he’s here if I hadn’t spoken with him.
“Well, it’s true. How’s the loosey-goosey club treating you?”
I laugh at our inside joke, but I also wince. I’m so methodical and meticulous thatloosey-gooseyeven as a term is cringe-worthy. “You think there’s something between Type-A and loosey-goosey?”
“The whole world, big brother. The whole world is somewhere between those two. That’s where most of us live.”
“Different question. Do you think Type-A and loosey-goosey can exist together?”
She stops. The abruptness of her movement has me turning to her. Please God, don’t let it be a bear. Eleanor doesn’t need another encounter. She’s going to think the cubs are friends and try to bring one home.
“What brought this up?” She tilts her head and my sister—the real one, meddling and all—is back. “Cian Murphy, what are you hiding from me?”
“Nothing. Just thinking about the future.” It’s not the time. Not yet. Ayla would show up at Sariah’s house and have a coffee date scheduled before I could make it back to my truck.
Ayla plops her hands on her hips and stares at me as if she can sniff out the half-truth and pull it from me physically. Her eyes squint, even behind her sunglasses, as she studies me.
With no warning, she pulls out her phone and snaps a picture of me. “New contact photo. You keep up this cryptic shit, I’ll make a calendar of you just like our girl here and sell it around town. We’ll find you a woman.”
“Mygirl.” I swear she prods me about Eleanor just to get a rise out of me.
