Game (Gentry Boys, #3)(66)

Robbie was sitting in the kitchen when I walked through the front door. He was smoking a cigarette and smiled when he saw me.

“Baby sister,” he said, standing and wrapping me in a hug whether I wanted one or not. I was notorious for disliking hugs but just then I was grateful for the warm, secure presence of my big brother. If I had known that it would be the last time I would ever hug him then I wouldn’t have let go.

“Where’s Mike?” he asked, squinting past me.

I rolled my eyes. “Who knows. Probably holed with something cheap and creating the next generation of Branskys.”

Robbie chuckled. “Well, someone’s gotta.” The he grew serious. “Hospice just left but Mom doesn’t seem to be aware of much today. Dad’s in there with her.”

I gave my older brother a brief, critical appraisal. He’d lost weight. He looked grim. But then, we all were these days.

“I’m just gonna go check on them,” I said, dropping my backpack on the floor.

Robbie nodded. “Yeah, I’m taking the train back into the city in a little while.” He smiled again. My brothers both had my father’s looks and the world became a brilliant place when they smiled. “We’ll catch up soon, kid. I want to hear all about the White Hills High School bullshit.”

“Take me out for a bagel with cream cheese, Rob, and I’ll tell you anything.”

“Cheap date. It’s a deal. I’ll be back for sure on Friday and I’m staying all weekend.” He gave a little wave and then returned to his cigarette.

Our house was beautiful, although I never appreciated it growing up. Maybe I assumed everyone enjoyed majestic ceilings with exposed beams, marble floors, and a spiral staircase that led to a maze of upstairs bedrooms.

My mother had been moved to a guest suite on the first floor. I remembered watching her select the cherry red and cream-colored room accents. Of course at the time it wouldn’t have occurred to her that she’d be dying there.

The door was open a tiny bit. All I saw was my father’s back. He appeared to be bent over the bed where his wife was losing her most important battle. I was angry at him in those days, so much so that we scarcely spoke. Nick Bransky couldn’t deal with the supreme messiness of dying. He no longer bothered to hide the fact that he was getting a sick kind of comfort from other women. I wanted to beat on his chest and call him all the foul names that he deserved. But I lost that urge as I stood there and listened to him cry.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

He was sorry that she was dying, that after twenty two years of marriage the one person who’d been loyal to him was leaving. He was sorry that he would be alone in a way that couldn’t be filled with shallow affairs. I have to also believe that he was sorry for everything he’d done, for his patterns of cheating and deceit, for the thousand and one ways he’d hurt her. But what good did it do to be sorry after everything was already broken beyond repair?

The tears pooled on my pillow as I fell asleep. I slept for a long time.

I opened my eyes because there was a knock at the door. It was morning and apparently had been for quite some time.

“Steph?” Truly called.

I grumbled and rolled out of bed, grumpily flinging open the door. Truly was on the other side. So was Chase.

“Hey bedhead,” he called, nervously making a small joke.

“Hey yourself,” I answered, leaning against the door and trying not to notice how good he looked, freshly showered and shaven. I wanted him to hold me, and he would have, if only I could uncross my arms and stop standing stiffly against the wall. I pushed my hair out of my face.

“Give me five minutes,” I muttered and headed to the bathroom. I needed to pee and I wasn’t quite awake yet. I needed to be awake when I dealt with Chase this morning. After washing my face and taking an eternity to brush my teeth I cleaned up the sink and opened the door.

Truly and Chase were in the living room, sitting uneasily on the couch. Truly was already dressed and holding her purse. She nudged Chase when I emerged.

“Gonna go pay that brother of yours a visit before I have to get to work.”

Chase nodded. “He’d like that,” he said, looking at me.

Truly glanced in my direction once and then took off.

“Sit down,” Chase said, but I didn’t. I stood in the middle of the room, feeling cold.

“So,” he continued, “last night sucked. The end, I mean. Stephanie, I’m sorry. I swear to god baby, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” I muttered.

“Is it?” I could hear the eagerness in his question. I could read it in his face. He was asking if I loved him as much today as I did yesterday. I did. Of course I did.

“Chase, do you ever think that maybe we’re both losing too much of who we are when we’re together?”

“That’s ridiculous,” he sneered immediately. “What the hell do you even mean by that?”

“Nothing. I don’t mean anything.”

“Bullshit. You’re not the type to throw around empty words. If you say it, Steph, then it means something.”

“Maybe,” I whispered.

Chase stood up straight. He exhaled loudly and swallowed, grimacing as if the act hurt him. “So you think we’re a mistake?”