He blew out a breath, his eyes flicking to the piles of books and paperwork on her bed. “And you don’t need to wait up for me. I’m fine. I’m not out drinking or getting high or doing anything dangerous.”
“Just having unprotected sex in your room.”
He groaned and raked a hand over his face. “I’m not . . . We’re not. I haven’t. We were just fooling around. It wasn’t going to go beyond that. And if it did, believe me, I know to be safe. You’ve already made us get tested. And it’s not like I’m going to get him pregnant.”
She stared at him for a moment and then picked up a pillow to throw at him.
He caught it and grinned as he dropped it to the floor. “Look, I know if I contracted some horrible STD that the irony of that would literally make your head explode. I wouldn’t do that to you, Mar.”
Marin sighed. The irony would be deadly. She’d spent the last two years of her Ph.D. program and this past year in her postdoc position creating and testing a sex education program for gay youth. If her own brother didn’t know how to take care of his sexual health, she really would be a serious fail. “You wouldn’t have to worry about the STD because I would kill you.”
“I know. And I’m sorry you saw what you saw. But I wanted to celebrate tonight, so me and Henry went to a party. When it started getting kind of crazy, we baile
d and came here instead. We weren’t doing anything we haven’t before. I just forgot how noisy . . . things can get.”
Marin lifted a hand. “I really don’t need to know the details. And don’t want to hear about your noises. Believe me, I heard enough.”
“Wait. Are you blushing?” He laughed. “Dude, I’m the one who got walked in on.”
“And I’m the one who had to see.”
He smirked. “Aw, Mar, how is it possible you’re such a prude? You’re like a doctor of sex, and you get all red at the thought that people are actually out there doing it. You realize how screwed up that is, right?”
“I’m not a sex doctor. I’m a researcher. And I don’t get red over people doing it. I get red at the thought of my baby brother doing it. You’re still supposed to be wearing Underoos and those caped pajamas you used to live in.”
He tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Those Superman pajamas were pretty kickass, but I’m not a kid anymore, Mar. You’re gonna have to learn to trust me at some point.”
She sighed. “I know that. Of course I know that.”
“Especially since I’m going to be living in New Orleans in the fall.”
Marin stilled, the words a record scratch to her train of thought. “What?”
His smile went wide. “See. That’s what I was celebrating. The Duplais Art College called me today. I got in.”
She blinked, the words taking a second to register. “Duplais? Are you serious? You got in?”
He nodded and rocked onto his toes, his excitement bubbling out of him. “Totally did.”
“Nate!” She hopped to her feet and went over to hug him. “They said it was next to impossible to get in there.”
He squeezed her back. “Right? But they loved that I used street art style in the portraits and that I do mixed-media stuff, said I show a lot of potential.”
Her head was whirling. “That’s amazing. I’m so freaking proud of you!”
He leaned back, his smile going goofy and lopsided, making him look like the kid she loved. “Thanks. I can’t even believe it. I’m sure I sounded like an idiot on the phone because I kept asking them to repeat themselves. It sounded too good to be true. But they said they’d send me an intro packet and email you the info about the financial package.”
She released him. “You mean the scholarship?”
He shook his head. “No, they only award four of those and I didn’t get one. But they said there’s some financial aid available.”
Marin’s stomach flipped over. She’d already looked into financial aid for Nathan. There were loans and some help, but only enough to cover a state school—and that was already going to be a stretch. The exclusive private art college in Louisiana was painfully expensive. She hadn’t worried about it too much when Nathan had said he wanted to apply there because she’d heard it was like getting into Juilliard or Harvard—near impossible. And she figured if he did manage to get in, he’d land a scholarship. But without that, there was no way. She’d been losing sleep over how she was going to pay for a state college, but now . . .
She needed to tell Nate that this wasn’t going to happen, needed to be honest about the reality. But seeing his face lit up like this—all that hope and promise—she couldn’t bear it. This was the kid who’d needed therapy since elementary school because of all he’d been through with their mother. A kid who still had scars on his body to remind him of it. A kid who’d been so depressed before he’d come out freshman year that she’d worried for his safety. And now he was here—proud, brilliantly talented, and confident. She couldn’t tell him his dream school wasn’t possible.
She’d barely been keeping them afloat with her modest postdoc pay, but they had made it work. Hell, she’d managed to keep a roof over their heads while she raised him, went to college, and worked night jobs for all those years. Maybe there was a way to figure this out, too.
She wouldn’t break the news to him until she’d looked at every possibility. Maybe she could get a raise, apply for additional grants to help supplement her salary. Maybe there were extra resources that she hadn’t tapped into when she’d gotten her own financial aid for school. She knew they were all long shots, but for now she was going to let him have his happy moment. She’d figure out the rest later.