I shake my head. “Not yet. I haven’t traveled much, but’s on my list, one day. Were you studying there for school?”
“No, I was just over visiting a friend of mine. I’m not really doing the school thing, not yet anyway. I haven’t really figured out what I want to be,” she adds, with a quiet note in her voice. Tegan reaches over to steal some bacon from the plate Dex has prepared, and I see the delicate ink of a tattoo on the inside of her wrist. A flutter of birds in flight, scattered on the pale skin all the way up to her elbow.
She follows my gaze. “Dex flipped when I got them done. I don’t know why, I had his artist ink me.”
“He was probably just worried,” I reply.
“He shouldn’t be. I was always the one to keep him in line,” Tegan tells me with a wry look. “The guys could barely get themselves to the studio in the morning after a late night out at the clubs.”
“Was this in LA?” I ask. Dex told me the story of what happened, but I’m curious to fill in the blanks of his account.
“I was practically their manager,” Tegan replies. “Well, assistant manager. Eddy did the deals with the label, and I babysat big brother to keep all those crazed groupies away. I went on tour with them too. Foreign crowds are the craziest,” she adds, with a mischievous look. “This one time, these two Argentinian girls—”
“Alicia doesn’t want to hear about that.” Dex’s voice cuts her off. He enters, dressed in jeans and a faded blue T-shirt, his hair wet from the shower.
My stomach turns a slow flip just looking at him.
“No war stories, OK, Tegan?” Dex adds with a warning note.
“Why not?” Tegan says deliberately, “Or are you pretending like none of it ever happened?”
They stare at each other across the kitchen counter. Suddenly, there’s tension in the air.
“I’m going to pass out if I don’t eat right now,” I say brightly. “Dex, this looks amazing.”
He relaxes. “It’s not exactly how I planned it.” He gives me a rueful look. “Some people should call before showing up.” He gives his sister a meaningful look, and Tegan rolls her eyes.
“What happened to ‘mi casa es su casa’?” she counters. “Admit it, big brother. You missed me.”
Dex breaks into a grin, reaching out to ruffle her hair. Tegan makes a noise of protest, ducking away. “Sure I missed you, kid. Who else is going to do all my dishes?”
“Dream on!”
I smile, watching them. The affection between them is clear, a bond that runs deeper than anything. I remember that they grew up together without their parents—and that whatever happened to Connor, it left its mark behind on Tegan too.
My smile fades. Last night was important, not just for me, but for Dex too. It felt like he finally accepted the possibility he might not be to blame for Connor’s death. I just hope having his sister here won’t bring back the ghosts we’ve only just begun to bury.
We eat at the table overlooking the bay. Although I’d just been trying to relieve the tension, I find that I really am hungry, and savor the eggs with cheese and fresh bread I drench in honey. “This is so good,” I tell Dex gratefully. He’s sitting at the head of the table, with Tegan and I on either side. “I forgot that you can cook.”
“Just one of my many talents,” Dex grins at me suggestively. “I’ve always been good with my hands.”
I catch my breath. Good doesn’t even come close to describing the magic those fingers worked on my aching body last night.
Tegan clears her throat. “Hello? I’m right here.”
I look away, blushing, but Dex just chuckles. “Yeah, you are. What made you come back early? I thought you were staying over there for another couple of weeks.”
Tegan shrugs. “Zoey started her internship. It was fun out there, but her hours are crazy. I didn’t really want to hang around waiting for her to get home at night.”
“Zoey’s holding down a job?” Dex looks surprised. He turns to me to explain. “Those two ran riot, all through high school. We’d get calls from the boarding school, threatening to kick them out. Vacations weren’t much better. God, you guys nearly gave me a heart attack partying underage,” he says to Tegan. “I felt like a hypocrite, reading them the riot act when I’d just stumbled in from the bars myself.”
“Yeah, well, that was a long time ago.” Tegan gets a clouded look in her eyes. “We’ve both grown up now.”
There’s a pause. Dex looks down. “I know you have.”
Before I can think, I reach under the table and take Dex's hand. I squeeze it gently, supportive, and feel his fingers close around mine, holding tight. We share a small smile, and for a moment, everything is relaxed again: good food, a beautiful view, music playing low on the surround speakers. Then Tegan’s voice comes, deliberate.
“I talked to Austin.”
Dex flinches. He whips his head around, letting go of my hand. “Why would you do that?”
“Because he’s my friend.” Tegan pushes her plate away. “They all are. That didn’t stop the minute you quit the band and stopped talking to them.”
“I didn’t stop talking—”
“He says you haven’t returned his calls in months,” Tegan corrects him gently. “The other guys are the same.”
“No, I was just over visiting a friend of mine. I’m not really doing the school thing, not yet anyway. I haven’t really figured out what I want to be,” she adds, with a quiet note in her voice. Tegan reaches over to steal some bacon from the plate Dex has prepared, and I see the delicate ink of a tattoo on the inside of her wrist. A flutter of birds in flight, scattered on the pale skin all the way up to her elbow.
She follows my gaze. “Dex flipped when I got them done. I don’t know why, I had his artist ink me.”
“He was probably just worried,” I reply.
“He shouldn’t be. I was always the one to keep him in line,” Tegan tells me with a wry look. “The guys could barely get themselves to the studio in the morning after a late night out at the clubs.”
“Was this in LA?” I ask. Dex told me the story of what happened, but I’m curious to fill in the blanks of his account.
“I was practically their manager,” Tegan replies. “Well, assistant manager. Eddy did the deals with the label, and I babysat big brother to keep all those crazed groupies away. I went on tour with them too. Foreign crowds are the craziest,” she adds, with a mischievous look. “This one time, these two Argentinian girls—”
“Alicia doesn’t want to hear about that.” Dex’s voice cuts her off. He enters, dressed in jeans and a faded blue T-shirt, his hair wet from the shower.
My stomach turns a slow flip just looking at him.
“No war stories, OK, Tegan?” Dex adds with a warning note.
“Why not?” Tegan says deliberately, “Or are you pretending like none of it ever happened?”
They stare at each other across the kitchen counter. Suddenly, there’s tension in the air.
“I’m going to pass out if I don’t eat right now,” I say brightly. “Dex, this looks amazing.”
He relaxes. “It’s not exactly how I planned it.” He gives me a rueful look. “Some people should call before showing up.” He gives his sister a meaningful look, and Tegan rolls her eyes.
“What happened to ‘mi casa es su casa’?” she counters. “Admit it, big brother. You missed me.”
Dex breaks into a grin, reaching out to ruffle her hair. Tegan makes a noise of protest, ducking away. “Sure I missed you, kid. Who else is going to do all my dishes?”
“Dream on!”
I smile, watching them. The affection between them is clear, a bond that runs deeper than anything. I remember that they grew up together without their parents—and that whatever happened to Connor, it left its mark behind on Tegan too.
My smile fades. Last night was important, not just for me, but for Dex too. It felt like he finally accepted the possibility he might not be to blame for Connor’s death. I just hope having his sister here won’t bring back the ghosts we’ve only just begun to bury.
We eat at the table overlooking the bay. Although I’d just been trying to relieve the tension, I find that I really am hungry, and savor the eggs with cheese and fresh bread I drench in honey. “This is so good,” I tell Dex gratefully. He’s sitting at the head of the table, with Tegan and I on either side. “I forgot that you can cook.”
“Just one of my many talents,” Dex grins at me suggestively. “I’ve always been good with my hands.”
I catch my breath. Good doesn’t even come close to describing the magic those fingers worked on my aching body last night.
Tegan clears her throat. “Hello? I’m right here.”
I look away, blushing, but Dex just chuckles. “Yeah, you are. What made you come back early? I thought you were staying over there for another couple of weeks.”
Tegan shrugs. “Zoey started her internship. It was fun out there, but her hours are crazy. I didn’t really want to hang around waiting for her to get home at night.”
“Zoey’s holding down a job?” Dex looks surprised. He turns to me to explain. “Those two ran riot, all through high school. We’d get calls from the boarding school, threatening to kick them out. Vacations weren’t much better. God, you guys nearly gave me a heart attack partying underage,” he says to Tegan. “I felt like a hypocrite, reading them the riot act when I’d just stumbled in from the bars myself.”
“Yeah, well, that was a long time ago.” Tegan gets a clouded look in her eyes. “We’ve both grown up now.”
There’s a pause. Dex looks down. “I know you have.”
Before I can think, I reach under the table and take Dex's hand. I squeeze it gently, supportive, and feel his fingers close around mine, holding tight. We share a small smile, and for a moment, everything is relaxed again: good food, a beautiful view, music playing low on the surround speakers. Then Tegan’s voice comes, deliberate.
“I talked to Austin.”
Dex flinches. He whips his head around, letting go of my hand. “Why would you do that?”
“Because he’s my friend.” Tegan pushes her plate away. “They all are. That didn’t stop the minute you quit the band and stopped talking to them.”
“I didn’t stop talking—”
“He says you haven’t returned his calls in months,” Tegan corrects him gently. “The other guys are the same.”
