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“Morning.” Harrison’s gruff voice cut through the sizzling sounds coming from the stove. He moved into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee before coming around the island and slumping into the seat next to me. His elbow nudged mine, almost causing me to spill my half-empty mug.
“Sorry, man,” he said without a hint of apology.
“Don’t worry about it,” I grumbled.
I’m certain I sensed him shoot me a glare, but by the time I glanced up, he had shifted his attention back to Oliver.
“What time are we leaving for the gym?”
“Let’s head there after breakfast.” He lifted the spatula and pointed it at me. “Nathan’s going to tag along.”
“Nathan? Really?” he asked in disbelief.
There was no mistaking the scowl of displeasure on Harrison’s face. I narrowed my eyes before diverting them to the countertop.
Harrison had always been cold toward me. I suppose I hadn’t been the picture of warmth either. While outright vicious animosity had never taken root between the two of us, theatmosphere had always been tense and barely civil. Deep down, I harbored the suspicion he had somewhat contributed to Oliver and me not being as close growing up.
Although, if I was being honest with myself, I couldn’t pin that all on Harrison. I never put much effort into that relationship—or any relationship.
“Nathan is my brother, I’m sure he’ll be a natural. There’s got to be an adventurous bone in that body somewhere.” I looked up to see Oliver directing his last statement at me.
Harrison’s face remained shrouded in skepticism. “You know you’ll have to leave your computer at home,” he jabbed.
“I’m aware.”
“Are you sure you’ll be okay without it?” He pouted in mock sympathy. “I thought it was permanently affixed to your face.”
“I’m perfectly capable of stepping away from work for a few hours,” I shot back.
He smirked. “Your soft hands might get blistered. How will you be able to type?”
“My hands aren’t soft,” I snapped.
Oliver shook his head and grinned. “Isn’t it great to all be under the same roof? It’s like old times.”
“Belay?”
“Right,” Oliver said, getting ready to show me again. “You’re going to hold the ropes like this, and you’ll feed a little as I climb, but be ready to press down if I fall or if I’m coming down.” It shouldn’t irritate me that he remained the picture of patience through this lesson, but it did. Being out of my element and in his had me on edge.
He demonstrated how to hold the ropes again as I practiced using a belay device to control the movement of the rope.
“Shouldn’t a professional be doing this?” I asked.
He furrowed his eyebrows and gave me a lopsided grin. “Nathan, I’ve been teaching lessons for three years. Iama professional.”
“Of course,” I muttered, still stressed at the idea that this rope would be all that stood between us and the ground.
“Do you want to climb first or belay first?” Oliver asked.
“Belay, I guess.” Both options sounded unappealing.
Harrison snorted behind me. “Count me out. I’m not climbing with him controlling my ropes.”
Oliver held up his hand. “Don’t listen to him. You’ve got this. Once you do it one time, you’ll get the feel for it.”
“If you’re sure,” I said uncertainly. Suddenly, bonding with my brother felt like a life-or-death situation. Why couldn’t I have been born into a quiet, bookish family?
“You can do it.” He smacked my shoulder and clipped into his harness.
