Page 125 of Versions Of Us

“Alex,” she cries, her sandy blonde hair hanging in waves around her face.

“Hey,” I say, falling back onto the bed. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” she argues. “I’m a horrible person. I disowned my own twin brother and he nearly died.”

“Well, I can’t argue with you there,” I say, but the joke falls flat.

“Come on, Alex. Be serious,” she whines. “How can you joke at a time like this?”

I feel my mouth lifting upward in a grin. Because it feels like forever since Ihavebeen able to joke like this.

“Because I’m alive,” I answer simply.

“I’m so sorry,” she cries. “Kristen explained everything. I never should have said those things to you. I never should have put my work ahead of you.”

My smile fades remembering the phone call I’d had with Katie. When she’d made me feel as though I’d brought shame upon our family. Now that she’s here, none of it seems relevant anymore.

“And I’m sorry,” she continues. “If I’ve ever made you feel like you were less than enough. You’re the best brother a girl could ask for.”

“I forgive you.”

“Just like that?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “Just like that.

Because I do forgive her. I forgive her with my whole heart.

“If there’s one thing the last six months has taught me it’s that life’s too short to hold grudges,” I say. “Even grudges against annoying big sisters.”

Her mouth turns upward in a grin as she swipes at her wet cheeks. “You called me your big sister.”

“Twenty-five minutes,” I say holding up my forefinger.

She rolls her eyes and wraps her arms around my neck, and I let her even though the force of her hug sends pain rippling through my side.

“I love you, little brother,” she whispers.

“I love you too. Now are you gonna help me break out of this place or what?”

“Yes,” she says, pulling away from me. “To the courtyard.”

“Just watch out for that nurse with the black hair at the reception desk. She’ll kill me if she catches us,” I tell her.

Katie giggles as she helps me stand and then she supports me in making my getaway to the courtyard.

We’re halfway down the corridor when a throat clears distinctly behind us. We both freeze on the spot.

“Mr. Henley,” says a petite but stern voice. “Just where do you think you’re going?”

Katie throws a glance back over her shoulder.

“Is it her?” I ask. “Black hair?”

“Mmhmm,” Katie confirms.

“Red lipstick?”

“Yep.”

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