Page 39 of Catalyst

“I mean…” He drops his voice in an attempt to mimic mine. “Does our mutual attraction get you hot, baby?” He laughs. “So not sexy, bro.”

I lash out, grabbing Nolan in a headlock. “You’re such a little shithead.”

Nolan squeals, doing his best to get out of my hold as I scrub my knuckles against his scalp. He manages to free himself, and when he stands up, his face is red, and his grin is a mile wide. He’s still proud of his taunt. Asshole.

“Think we could actually start playing now?” Carter asks. His mild tone gives away his amusement. I smile and give him a quick nod of thanks. He’s redirecting our siblings to take the heat off me.

Being the quiet one has made him the most perceptive out of all of us. He’s always the first one to notice when one of us is struggling. Usually, he’ll come to me first, and then we’ll figure out if we need to step in or let them figure it out on their own.

The last time Carter came to me was because of Nolan. He’s such a free spirit and barely made it through his college courses. And it’s not because he isn’t smart. He’s actually one of the most brilliant men I know. He just struggles to keep his brain moving on one track at a time, which makes studying for classes or sitting and listening to a long lecture a little difficult.

Nolan was trying to figure out what to do with his life, and he was worried he would disappoint us if he didn’t choose a “regular” job like the rest of us. He confessed to being a bartender at one of the bars in town. I felt guilty that he didn’t think we’d approve of his job. When I finally got him to open up, the only thing I asked him was, “Are you happy?”

All the rigidity in his shoulders dropped, and he got this smile on his face. It was the only confirmation I needed to know this was what he wanted to do.

The thing about Carter, though, is he forgets that just because he notices the issues first, doesn’t mean I don’t notice them eventually. And I know Carter is struggling with something. I haven’t had time to figure out exactly what yet, but I will. Since I’ve been taking responsibilities off my plate recently, maybe I’ll have more time to spend with my siblings. I might have to take him out for a beer sometime soon.

“Sara and I are on a team. You three losers are on the other,” Matthew states, as he juggles the ball with his foot.

“Absolutely not,” Nolan protests. “You two cheat more than any of us, then think you get to brag about a win.”

“No, Sara and I will be on a team against you three.” I don’t leave any room for arguing, which, of course, Nolan picks at.

“Sir, yes, sir!” Nolan fake salutes, making Matthew laugh.

I just shake my head and nudge Sara. We do our handshake: a slide of our palms, a fist bump, then we hook our thumbs together and wrap our fingers around each other’s wrists before we drop our hands down and let go. She grins up at me, and all I can see is her toothy ten-year-old girl smile. It makes my heart ache a little knowing she’s no longer that little kid.

“Was anyone else ever jealous of their handshake?” Nolan asks, stealing the ball from Matthew.

“Sara and I have our own handshake,” Matthew taunts.

“Yeah, we do, too,” Carter says.

“What the fuck, Sara?” Nolan’s mouth is gaping, his eyes wide in surprise. And if I’m not mistaken, there’s a little hurt there, too.

Sara walks up to him and pats him on the chest. “I don’t have handshakes with them. If it would make you feel better, you and I can make up our own and they won’t get one.”

“Fuck, yeah!” Nolan’s fist pumps the air. We all roll our eyes at him. He’ll either forget to come up with the handshake or, once they do make it up, he’ll forget how it goes immediately afterward.

Sara toes the ball to me, and I take off running with it, Nolan’s protest fading behind me. Matthew catches up to me, and we jockey for the ball, our shoulders pushing against each other. I manage to score, despite his attempts to defend.

Since there are only five of us, we can’t play a game like they’re technically supposed to be played, so we ended up making silly rules that aren’t real. It keeps our game fair while still being fun.

Over the next hour and a half, we play, switching up teams when one hits ten goals. It usually turns into a free-for-all by the end, as we all try to score goals no matter what team we’re on.

The best part is how much we laugh and joke around the whole time. It’s the best part of my week and allows me to loosen up afterward. Although, I have to admit, I don’t need this session quite as much as I usually do. Which is a credit to Ellie if I’ve ever heard one.

“I’m out. I can’t run a single step further,” Sara moans, flopping down on the turf.

“Come on, Kung Fu Panda. You need to cool down first or you’re going to be crying tomorrow.” Matthew holds his hand out to help her up, and we all start walking around the field to help slow our heart rates before we stretch.

“When are you going to come to a class with me, Matthew? It would be fun to spar with you,” Sara asks.

“Never. I don’t need anyone to see me flail about while you kick my ass.” Matthew laughs.

“Come on. We’d learn the moves together. It wouldn’t be me taking you to the mat the whole time.”

“I’ll think about it.” Matthew gives me a look that says there’s not a chance in hell he’ll ever do that, and I smirk at him.

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