Chapter 31
Gavin unlocked the front door and stepped through, hoping no one would be home. He was raw from an afternoon of low-level, omnipresent anxiety about how the meeting between Troy and Gen had gone, and he wasn’t quite ready to process the download yet.
Of course, there was always the chance it had gone great, that Gen hadn’t been upset at all, and that hearing the report from Troy would be a good thing, setting all his worries at ease…but, somehow, he doubted that was the case. And he just wasn’t ready to face anything else yet.
Not to mention, there was his whole realization during his conversation with Mila that he was going to have to have hard conversations with the people in his life. That was playing on his mind, and he really would like just a little more time to think about how those should go.
He’d dropped Mila off at her friend’s house and thought that might be a good sign for his chances of enjoying a little peace and quiet.
The tension knotting his gut uncoiled slightly at the sight of shadows darkening the corners of the living room and shrouding the furniture. If his brother had been here, the place would’ve been ablaze, electric bill be damned.
When Troy had first moved back into the house after their parents died, when Mila was five years old, he’d wanted the house to seem as cheerful as possible at all times. Living along the often-misty Oregon coast, that was a challenge without the help of electricity, so most of the lights in the small cottage had been left burning brightly whenever they were home, and Troy had simply never gotten out of the habit.
The minute he’d locked the door behind him, he headed into the kitchen. If there’d been a time recently when he’d needed a beer more than he did right then, he couldn’t bring it to mind.
That’s not true, dude. There have plenty of times that called for a beer lately. But this is definitely one of them.
“Hey, Gav.”
Gavin just about jumped out of his skin at the sound of Troy’s voice echoing through the house that, just seconds ago, he’d thought was empty. He was in the middle of stuffing his keys into his pockets and when Troy spoke it startled him so much that he fumbled them, sending them clattering to the floor.
His eyes darted around the room, finally landing on Troy sitting at the kitchen table, shrouded in shadows. “Shit, dude, that’s creepy. Are you practicing to become an assassin? What the fuck?”
Troy laughed. “That’s your guilty conscience talking. I was just enjoying the sunset, and the lights put a glare on the glass.”
Gavin looked out the sliding glass door to the ocean beyond, and the brilliant kaleidoscope of purples and pinks that shaded the horizon. When he turned back to Troy, he saw a mug of steaming liquid sitting in front of his brother on the kitchen table. Chagrined, he realized that the whole thing was, in fact, a lot more pedestrian than his nerves had led him to believe.
As he bent to retrieve his keys from the floor by his feet, Troy continued, “So, Gav, why so jumpy?”
Gavin didn’t like the self-satisfied, slightly ball-busting tone in his brother’s voice, but he figured he deserved it.
He’d wanted more time to get his head around having this conversation with his brother, but he realized now that the whole “more time” thing was bullshit. It could be a hundred years from now, and he’d still want more time. He sat across from Troy. Best to just dive in.
Before he did that, though, there was one thing he needed to know.
“So, how did it go with Gen today?”
Troy shrugged. “I don’t know why the hell you sent me there instead of just cancelling.”
Gavin didn’t either, really, now that he thought about it. Cancelling on Gen just never occurred to him. “So, was she pissed?”
“I don’t know, man. I guess…puzzled more than pissed. We all are, as a matter of fact.”
Gavin nodded. “I know.”
They sat in silence for a moment, then Gavin continued. “I have a brain tumor.”
The words came out just as Troy was taking a sip from his mug and when he heard them, he spit the liquid out, and then the mug tumbled from his fingers and went crashing down his chest and onto the table, splashing hot liquid everywhere before it went spinning off onto the floor and shattered loudly.
“Yep,” Gavin said, his voice dry, “that’s about how I imagined that would go.”
Troy grabbed a dish towel that was sitting in the middle of the table and wiped furiously at himself, and then at the table. “What are you talking about? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No. I wouldn’t kid about something like that.”
Troy threw the dish towel across the room, where it landed perfectly in the sink. He looked back at Gavin. “Yeah. I know. You’re right, you wouldn’t,” he said, somewhat mollified.
“Unless, you know. My tumor made me do it.”