Page 9 of Rumi: The Hawthornes

“She seemed fine this mornin’,” I mumbled.

“How the hell did she wake up fine and you’re the one bitchin’ and moanin’?” Micky asked in surprise. “I know she kept up with you. She always does and then she’s usually the one feelin’ like roasted shit the next day.”

“Dunno,” I grumbled.

“She stayed over here last night?” Olive asked. It was pretty telling that none of them were surprised she’d spent the night. If they suspected what we’d been doing, it would’ve been a different story. Olive shook her head. “Did she even have time to go home and get ready this morning? She was opening at the craft store at like nine.”

“I don’t remember what time she left,” I admitted.

“That sucks. She must be exhausted.” Olive patted my shoulder. “Especially ifyoulook like this. I’m still not sure why you had everyone over if you feel like shit.”

“I don’t know,” I ground out, pulling my hands away from my face so I could look at them. “I love you guys, but can you please go home?”

Brody chuckled.

“I’m offended,” Olive replied, crossing her arms over her chest. “Why were you two the only ones invited to Charlie’s last night?”

“I helped Bishop with some shit and they paid me in dinner and more booze than I wanted,” I replied in exasperation, motioning for her to go.

“What are you doing with your hands?” Olive asked in mock confusion.

“Christ,” I muttered with a sigh. “You know, your sister wouldn’t give me shit like this.”

“Youknowthat isn’t true,” she joked, throwing an empty cup at me. “You’re lucky Meg’s at school, or she’d be singing at the top of her lungs and drumming on the tabletop just to fuck with you.”

“Fine, you’re right,” I groaned. “She’s worse than you.”

“Thank you,” she replied with satisfaction. “You’re a shitty host, you know that?”

“Boo hoo,” I shot back, unconcerned. That was the magic of my cousins being my closest group of friends. Nothing I said or did ever really offended them.

Brody and Olive left together as usual since he rarely drank and she liked to take advantage of any designated driver she could find. Then it was just me and my big brother. I liked Mick. I mean, I loved him, of course, but I actually liked him, too. He’d been an ass when we were growing up, but as we’d gotten older, things had mellowed between us and—

“You gonna tell me what the fuck is goin’ on?” he asked, leaning back in his chair like he was settling in.

I’d lied. I couldn’t stand him. He was a huge nosy pain in my ass.

“Nothin’ is goin’ on.”

“You and Nova get in a fight or somethin’?” he pushed.

“We didn’t get in a fight.”

“You always make up,” he continued like I hadn’t said anything.

“We’re not fightin’,” I snapped. “Jesus Christ.”

“Uh-huh,” he muttered with a laugh.

“Would you just go?” I got to my feet and swallowed hard as my mouth started to water. Fuck. I was going to puke. “I wanna go to bed, man. I’m tired, and I feel like shit.”

“Fine,” he replied, throwing up his hands. “You know I’m around if there’s anythin’ you wanna talk about.”

“There’s nothin’ to talk about.”

“Still,” he said as he walked toward the front door. “If there is.”

I waved tiredly as he left and then stood there in the middle of the room, debating whether or not I should just go to the bathroom and make myself throw up. On the one hand, it might make me feel better. On the other, I seriously fucking hated throwing up, especially when I was sober.

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