“You don't get rid of me so easily. So how about that pizza?” We'd eaten pizza or other fast food almost every day since we'd moved in together and it certainly wasn’t healthy but neither of us could cook.
“Then pizza again,” Brian agreed halfheartedly, reaching for the phone to call our favorite pizza restaurant.
“I could cook something for us.” The quiet words startled Brian and me. I almost tipped sideways with my chair and had to hold onto the counter to keep my balance. Amber lingered in the doorway, looking uncomfortable and embarrassed as she gnawed on her lower lip.
“That sounds like a great idea,” I said with a smile. Some of the tension leaked out of her body. I couldn’t believe she was the same girl who’d been cowering on the ground less than thirty minutes ago. “Well, unless your cooking skills are anything like Brian’s. I’m not in the mood for food poisoning.”
Brian didn’t laugh, didn’t react in any way to my jab. I kicked him under the table to shake him out of his stupor. She let out a small breathy laugh. “I think my cooking skills are quite alright. Dad never complained.” The smile vanished from her face and she chanced a look at Brian.
“Amber is a fantastic cook,” he said finally. “You’re in for a treat.” He couldn’t even look her in the eye. Instead he was staring at the table. Could he act any more obvious? “You don't need to cook. Maybe you should rest? You’re probably exhausted.”
Her lips tightened. “I’m not. I'd really like to cook, but if you don't want me to, then that’s okay.”
Brian shook his head hastily. “No, I love your cooking. I just thought that you needed to rest after...never mind.”
Amber blushed and averted her gaze. Oh for fuck’s sake, watching them interact was almost painful. Brian was the biggest moron ever.
“I'll check the fridge and cupboard to see what I have to work with,” she said eventually and stepped into the room. Brian sat rigidly on his chair, probably worried to scare her if he moved, and I didn't dare to move much either. But it was getting uncomfortable with my chair standing on two legs, so I let it fall back on his front legs with a low thud. Amber jumped slightly and Brian shot me a glare.
Amber ignored us mostly and even moved past us to get to the fridge but Brian kept watching her as if he expected her to have another panic attack. I was torn between breaking the silence and keeping my mouth shut. Amber turned to us after a few minutes of rummaging and gestured at a few items on the kitchen counter. “I think I could cook Penne Arrabiata from this. Is that alright? We really need to go grocery shopping if I’m supposed to cook more often.”
“Knock yourself out,” I said. “I’m always down for pasta.”
“Sounds good,” Brian said.
She began to work and I rose from my chair to grab the sports magazine that was lying on the counter behind Brian. His hand shot out. “What are you doing?” His eyes darted to Amber, who noticed as usual. Her face filled with embarrassment. “You don't have to sit there like statues, you know? You can move. I don't mind.”
Brian glared at me as if it was all my fault and handed me the magazine. He needed to stop being so fucking careful. I began to read, watching Amber from the corner of my eye now and then. She seemed content and happy while she cooked, her face more relaxed than I'd ever seen it before.
***
“Ready,” she said and the smell of pasta flooded my senses. It smelled delicious. She carried the pot over to the table and put it down. “Won't you set the table?”
Brian and I both rose at once and froze when we realized that we were now standing over her. She looked fragile and delicate and the urge to protect her flared up in me. She didn’t flinch. She ignored us and sat down on a chair. Brian and I took that as our clue to grab plates and put them on the table. We dug in as soon as we'd sat down.
“So good,” I praised between bites of pasta.
She hummed in response, sucking a spaghetti into her mouth. Tomato sauce coated her lips and I felt the ridiculous urge to lean over and kiss her.
“I missed your cooking,” Brian said.
“I want to apologize for...” She trailed off and swallowed hard, her gaze flitting toward the living room for an instant. “...for being such a bother.”
I swallowed the pasta in my mouth. Brian reached out for her but thought better of it and returned his hand to his side, giving her a forced smile. “You aren't a bother, Amber.”
“It's good to have a girl in the apartment who can cook for us, do the laundry and clean everything,” I joked, winking at her.
She let out a laugh like tinkling bells. It was a beautiful sound. “I'm not going to do your dirty laundry.”
Did she know how beautiful she was? I wanted to slap myself. I shouldn't be thinking about her in such a way. She was Brian's sister after all, and that was only the tip of the iceberg of things standing between us.
“The meeting of the support group is today. I think I might want to go,” she said, chancing a glance at Brian.
He put his fork down at once. “I can drive you there.”
“That would be great. It's at seven, so you have enough time to finish your pasta.” She leaned back in her chair, and rolled her eyes at me when Brian wasn’t looking.
I stifled a laugh. Fuck, that girl was worming its way into my heart and I didn’t have the first clue how to stop her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Amber
Nerves fluttered in my stomach. Why did I have to mention the support group? Now I had to go or Brian would worry. Would I have to talk about what had happened? I wanted to forget, not drag everything back to the surface. But Dad and Brian set their hopes in the group. I grabbed my purse and slung it over my shoulder. I would do this for them.
Brian was already waiting in the living room when I entered. I gave him a smile that probably looked very forced but it was the best I could do. He held the door open for me and I walked past him into the hallway, careful to keep my distance. Straightening my back and sucking in a deep breath, I walked into the elevator. Brian joined me after a moment, cautious and worried. He kept as much space between us as possible and pressed the button. The elevator began moving and the awkward silence between us was threatening to suffocate me. I wanted my relationship with Brian to return to normal, to how it had been before the day that had ruined everything. But how could it ever get normal if I couldn't even hug him or
take his hand? The elevator stopped and we strode toward Brian's car. I buckled myself up. Brian kept his gaze fixed on the windshield and held himself rigid as we drove off.
“The support group will help you,” he said into the silence.
I decided to play along. “I'm sure it will.” I tightened the hold on my purse to hide the trembling of my hands.
***
We parked in front of the part of the Massachusetts General hospital where the support group meeting was held. “Do you want me to bring you to the door?” Brian asked as I unbuckled.
“No.” I wasn’t a toddler. I needed to do this on my own, even if I felt safer with someone I knew.
Brian’s hand on the seat buckle froze. “Are you sure?” Upon seeing my expression, he nodded. “Okay. I can wait until the meeting is over if you want.”
I raised my head to look at him. “No, Brian, it's alright. I don’t know how long it’s going to take and I’m sure you have better things to do than sit in the car. I’ll call you once I’m done.”
He looked hesitant but after a moment he said, “Okay, but wait inside for me. I’ll call you when I pull up.”
I got out of the car and threw the door shut. With a last worried glance, Brian drove off. I drew in a shaky breath as I headed toward the glass entrance and stepped into the brightly lit lobby. This outpatient center was part of the psychiatric department of the MGH, but my worry that everyone would look at me like I was weird was completely unfounded. Except for an elderly woman behind the welcome desk, there was only a tall girl with dark brown hair in the lobby. I was supposed to register but the thought of sitting down in circle with people who’d gone through the same thing as I had suddenly seemed impossible. The mere idea made my stomach coil. Calm down.
The tall girl was looking at a notice board on the wall. I walked toward her slowly, not yet ready to register with the receptionist, and the girl turned to me when I stopped beside her. She was older than I’d first thought, maybe twenty, but she was so skinny that she’d looked younger from afar.