Brothers Forever

22. Nothing's Going On

Chapter 22: Nothing's Going On

Sterling's Point of View

It was about eleven at night, and I walked downstairs to the kitchen to raid the fridge for an almost-midnight snack. To my surprise, my father was sitting at the counter drinking a glass of milk. My parents weren’t usually up at this time—they had trouble staying up past nine to watch a movie.

He noticed my entrance, and his brown eyes widened slightly. “I want to talk to you, Sterling.”

This didn’t sound good. I eyed the fridge with longing for a second before sitting next to my father at the table. His dark hair was messy and sticking up in odd directions.

“I saw you carry Brennan in from the car last night,” he stated simply.

I cocked an eyebrow. “Your point being?”

He frowned slightly as if I should know exactly what he was getting at. “I thought you were with Grace. They’re both nice girls, son. You can’t be leading them on.”

I placed my face in my hands. “I. Am. Not. Dating. Grace. How many times do I have to say this?”

“How many times have you brought a girl besides Brennan home for dinner with the family?” He didn’t wait for my answer. “How many times have you been just friends with a girl?”

“I get it, Dad, but that is seriously all we are. So drop it, okay?” I ran a hand through my blond hair.

“You never told me why you were carrying Brennan last night. What’s going on there?” he asked before downing the rest of his milk.

“Nothing’s going on there either, Dad,” I answered with a sigh, trying to avoid the other half of his question.

“Why were you carrying her?” He apparently wasn’t going to let up on this.

“Promise you won’t tell her I told you? I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t want you guys to know. Bren really cares what you guys think about her.”

“I won’t mention it, and I realize that. So, what happened?”

“Brennan Shaw drank. I’m not sure how much, but she was hammered, Dad.” I chuckled as I thought about it. “She’s an aggressive drunk too. It was definitely…different.”

My dad laughed as well before his face turned more serious. “I thought she was the driver? Why was she drinking?”

“I don’t know why she drank but Grace didn’t, and she brought us all home. If anything, we could have stayed there.”

It had been bugging me as well. Why did Bren drink? It really wasn’t like her whatsoever.

My dad silently surveyed the empty glass for a moment before looking up at me. “If there’s nothing going on with Brennan, then why did you bring her home and not Grey?”

“I had only had a drink. Grey already had quite a few by the time Bren started throwing up, so I made sure she got home alright. Besides,” I added defensively, “she took care of me enough times in that situation.”

“I’ll take your word for it, then,” he said, but I could tell he still had more he wanted to say by his eyes. “I’m going to bed now, though. Night.”

He headed down to his bedroom in the basement.

“Night,” I muttered and headed up the stairs, my original motive for entering the kitchen long forgotten.

I opened my bedroom door and was shocked for the second time that night. There was Bren perched on my bed, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders. She wore pajama shorts and her legs, one still in a boot, were dangling over the edge. I eyed the large sweater she had on and realized it was the one I had left at her house almost a month ago.