I'd always been content to let Logan assert his role as firstborn, the big brother and father figure we'd so desperately needed when we were younger. So even though I was the oldest of my four sisters, my feet had never filled those shoes. Not really.
I didn't want to tell Claire what to do because what if I steered her wrong? What if agreeing that doing the paper on Brooke's impact on our family structure was equivalent to setting off a nuclear bomb in our tight-knit little circle? That was the last thing I wanted. Our family kicked ass. I loved our family. Tuesday nights were the highlight of every single week for me.
The idea that Brooke's ghost, though she was still very much alive, could punch through that, filled me with dread. But it wasn't my place to lay the mantle of my opinion on my younger sister's education.
Because it was only that. My opinion.
"I think I've had too much wine for this conversation," I admitted weakly.
"Cop out," Isabel said.
I glared at her. Claire sighed.
"Did you ask Logan?" Lia asked.
"Why does he get an opinion?" Isabel shot back. “Brooke is our burden to bear, not his.”
Claire straightened on the couch. "You know, your anger on this particular subject gets really fricken annoying after a while."
I held up my hands. "Knock it off, you two."
"Logan is the head of this family," Lia said. “That’s why he gets an opinion."
I rubbed my temples, where the beginning of a headache was starting to bloom. To think, I could have been wandering around a big, beautiful house and helping Noah spend all his money on it. But no, I chose my sisters because family came first.
Around me, the noise increased from all three of them. Lia and Claire joined forces, which they always did, and Isabel squared off in the doorway to the family room, not intimidated in the slightest by the two-against-one odds, like always.
No one even noticed that I sat there, eyes closed and wishing I was anywhere else. I didn't want to talk about Brooke. I didn't want to listen to my sisters argue about which woman had the greater impact in our life and why Claire's paper somehow changed the definition of that role.
"You guys," I interrupted. "Could you stop, please?"
No one listened. Lia had stood from the couch. "You know, I’m so sick of you acting like you carry around some different wound than the rest of us. Brooke left all of us, Iz. Just because you haven’t worked through your own shit doesn’t mean your opinion counts more."
Claire rubbed her forehead. "Let's just drop it. I have a couple of weeks to make the decision."
They ignored her too. The two hotheads went at it, and I gave Claire a commiserating smile.
"I don’t think my opinion counts more," Iz yelled. "I'm pissed that that woman is somehow getting credit for the way we turned out. It had nothing to do with her."
"Ohhhh yes," Lia drawled. "Look at you. You're the picture of someone who's unaffected by your childhood."
"Hey," I snapped at her. "Watch it."
Her face pinked, but she didn't move her flinty gaze from Isabel.
My phone buzzed, and I sighed heavily before flipping the screen to face me.
Noah: My savings account just took a pretty massive hit thanks to you.
The tone of his text, the fact that he texted me at all, pulled a smile onto my face. I missed him, which made no sense. I could talk to him, be friendly with him, and it wouldn't be fraternization, right? In my wine and family drama haze, I shifted through my mental checklist of why I'd decided to pull back from him all week.
Maaaaybe because when I was around him, my entire body tugged in his direction like he was pulling on a string. The only way I felt like I could combat it was to snip the cord clean through.
But that hadn't really worked either.
All week I was forced to watch him, and think about him, and wonder what he was doing when we weren't filming. All week, I struggled with the feeling that he noticed my distance, and that it bothered him.
My fingers flew across the screen before I could talk myself out of it.
Me: You got the house?! I KNEW it was perfect for you.
Noah: It was. I'm glad you sent it to me.
Noah: There's one problem, though ...
Me: What?
Noah: The yoga mats that came with it are too small for me. Either that or I'm less flexible than I realized and need massive amounts of help.
He attached a picture that had me laughing out loud. Marty must have snapped it, which had me smiling so big it threatened to split my skin open. Noah was attempting a downward dog, but his feet were a solid foot past the end of the bright pink mat. His form was terrible, and I couldn't see his face, but it was, hands down, my new favorite picture of all time.
Me: Oh boy. Yeah, you're in trouble.
Noah: Will you come help me? I think Marty misses you.
My face flushed warm and happy and pink, and my chest expanded on a heavy inhale.
Me: Does he?
Noah: He said I was boring to film when I'm by myself. Just think of how embarrassing it will be when I do my first yoga session in my new house, and because I have no guidance, I fall and break my hip, which will put me on the bench for the rest of the season.
His next text included the address, and I clicked on the map. If I requested an Uber now, I could be there in twenty minutes. The desire to go was so strong, especially when I factored in the chaotic state of my living room.
Two angry sisters arguing about Brooke, or a football player who made my tummy flip upside down when he looked at me?
Tapping my Uber app, I requested the ride before I could talk myself out of it. This was the impulsive Molly I didn’t let out often, but in this situation, I wasn’t going to second-guess it. Why he was still at the house, I had no clue, but I wasn't second-guessing that either. All I knew was that ignoring him was stupid because we still had to spend a lot of time together. Ignoring him was pointless, actually.
When a driver accepted the trip, I stood and sent Noah a quick text, telling him I'd be there. Instead of waiting to see what he said, I tucked the phone into the side pocket of my leggings.
"I need to go to work," I proclaimed to anyone who would listen.
And just like that, their arguing stopped. Like magic.
"Now?" Isabel asked. "You've been drinking."
"I have an Uber coming."
"Why do you need to work so late?" Claire asked.
"I just ... do."
Isabel's face softened in understanding.
"Quit fighting, okay?" I said gently. "Let Claire do her paper on whatever she wants. It's not up to you two, and it's not fair to make it harder on her than necessary."
Claire pushed up from the couch to wrap me in a tight hug. I kissed her cheek when she whispered her thanks into my ear.
Isabel wiped a hand over her weary face. "Sorry, Claire."
I cleared my throat.
"And sorry, Lia," she mumbled.
"I'm sorry too," Lia added.
I pinched my cheeks and looked down at my Wolves tank top and white sneakers. My hair was pulled back and anchored into place with a few hair pins. I shrugged.
"Be careful," Iz told me.
"I'm just going for some filming they're doing of his new place." When she lifted an eyebrow in disbelief, I propped my hands on my hips. "I am."
As I skipped down the steps outside our apartment to my waiting Uber, I thought about her warning and had a moment of pause.
"Ready?" my driver asked.
I blew out a breath. No second-guessing. "Yup. Let's go."
Chapter Sixteen
Molly
A bright flurry of nerves popped and bubbled like champagne as I approached the house. The pictures didn't do it justice. As I walked up the covered front porch with solid wood beams holding up the peaked roofline, I got the distinct impression that this house had been built for someone as strong and intimidating as Noah was. Someone tall and strong, who'd fill the space and not be dwarfed by it.