I WAS KEEN TO GO HOME while the sun was shining—for once. That’s why I didn’t stay to clean as thoroughly as I usually did. I still put a load of towels into the dryer and opened a couple of boxes of product and put everything away, but my coworkers could do a little more to pick up the slack around here. I was okay with that.

The alley was busy when I left. Bradley was helping a customer load a king-size mattress into the back of a truck when he waved to me, friendly as ever.

I pulled out my phone to open Instagram when my brother’s name popped up on the screen.

“Austin, what the hell is going on? Are you okay?” I didn’t bother with hello. I had no time for formalities.

“I’m fine. It’s fine. Really, Kare, it’s not that big of a deal. It was just a fight.”

“A fight? With who?”

He sighed for a second. “Some guy. I don’t know. I was out somewhere and this guy was giving a girl at the bar shit.”

I rolled my eyes and pressed my body against the trees lining the alleyway so a van full of kids could pass.

“So, you’re telling me that this whole thing stemmed from your chivalry?”

Austin was good at spinning things. He would make a wonderful publicist for a messy celebrity—or a horrible husband.

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he said, laughing.

His voice was calming, it was like hearing an old song you had forgotten you loved. I’d really missed him.

“Right. So how much trouble are you in?”

“I don’t know.” He paused.

I thought I heard the flick of a lighter. “Dad bailed me out … which sucks, because now I’m going to owe him money.”

Unbelievable. I wish I had his ability to look the other way and not worry about things. He knew he would figure it out—or someone would figure it out for him—before it got too serious.

“Yeah, because owing dad money is your biggest problem.”

“I didn’t kill anyone, ok? It was your standard bar fight.”

I laughed. I could feel his magic working. I was starting to feel almost-ok about his arrest, and the ink on his discharge papers wasn’t even dry yet.

“How did you even get into a bar? We’re not twenty-one for another month.”

This time, it was his turn to be amused. “You’re not serious.”

“Yes, I am!” But I was joking, sort of.

There was this thin line between me worrying about my brother and just wanting to have fun with him. I was by no means a stickler, or super responsible; I was just light years ahead of my twin. The difference was incredibly noticeable.

I knew my loser uncle was taking Austin to bars with his gross older friends, probably introducing him to women who downed too much alcohol, wore too much makeup, had too much experience … too much everything.

“You’re a worrier. You and Dad.”

I groaned. I didn’t want to worry. I didn’t want to be the nagging older-by-six-minutes sister. And I certainly didn’t want to be anything like my dad.

“Don’t lump me in with Dad. Come on. I just don’t want you to be in trouble. That’s all.”

I was almost home.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to mess up this bright future of mine.” It was meant to be funny, but a hint of sadness filtered through.

“Do you want to come over tonight? I miss you.”

“I can’t tonight. I’m meeting up with someone. But tomorrow? Dad and Estelle are going to Atlanta this weekend, so I’ll have the house to myself.”

“House party!” I laughed at the memory of Austin’s streak of failed house parties throughout high school. Most of the kids our age had been too afraid of the military police to go to a party on post, but fewer people actually made the parties more fun.

“Totally.”

“And I was totally joking. You’re not going to have a party at Dad’s house.”

“Uh, yeah. I am.”

He could not be serious. Our dad would lose his mind if Austin had a party at his house. I couldn’t bear to think of the consequences.

“You are not. I mean, throwing a party a couple of days after you get arrested? What is wrong with you? We aren’t in high school anymore!”

It was stuff like this that made me return to my family theory, which was that Austin was the one who got all our mother’s charm. My little brother was always so good with people. He could be thrust into any situation and people would flock to him. What’s that saying, like flies to honey? He had all the honey. Me—I was just the opposite. I fluttered around people like Austin, easily charmed, like my father.

“Speak for yourself.”

“How do you even know enough people here to have a party? I mean—”

“Look, I gotta go. See you sometime tomorrow. You should come over. Love you.”

He hung up before I could get in another word.

Oh, Austin. I love you, but sometimes you make some really shitty life choices.