Everywhere, Everything. ★ STURNIOLO TRIPLETS

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The boys didn't look like they'd been awake long when Chris and I walked through the front door. Nick was bundled on the recliner and Matt was sprawled across the sofa, each scrolling through TikTok on their phones.

"You're up," I said, throwing my bag on one of the hooks near the door.

Nick's eyes were still puffy and his hair was a heap of tangles and flattened strands.

Matt sat upright on the couch. "I was looking for you when I woke up." His voice still held traces of sleep, a low rasp grating against the words. Dark purple bags formed beneath his eyes and I thought of how long we'd stayed up together last night. How I'd fallen asleep beside him.

How I just let his brother comfort me in a way that made guilt swell in my stomach.

My shoulders rose to my ears. "I woke up pretty early," I admitted, attempting to shrug off the shame growing inside me. "You looked so cozy, I didn't want to wake you."

"I found her sitting on the deck by herself like a weirdo," Chris jumped in, unloading our breakfast onto the kitchen island. Nick got up from his seat to inspect what we bought, while I went to sit beside Matt. He was watching me intently as I moved across the room, our knees bumping as I sat on the sofa.

"Some of us like to be alone," he said barely above a whisper. He was talking to Chris, but his face was centered on mine like I was the only thing worth looking at. My skin buzzed where our knees met, the small patch of skin against denim hot as the flush rising up my neck.

Matt had a way of making you feel see-through, like no matter how many walls you had up, he would penetrate every last one to get to the core of who you were. At this moment, I wanted nothing more than to be opaque. Not let him get a clear view of the very real, and unnerving, emotions coursing through my body for him. And even more so the ones lingering on the same leg pressed against him that held traces of Chris.

I smiled meekly at Matt. Every cell in my body wanted to believe that there wasn't any reason to feel like I'd done something wrong, but I was worried that between what-almost-happened last night and what-we-didn't-talk-about in the car ride this morning, I was towing a fine line. My brain was like scrambled eggs right now, and the last thing I wanted was to overstep in either direction.

If Matt had noticed any tension coming from me, he didn't acknowledge it, and I relaxed into the cushions.

"You guys gonna come eat or what?" Nick called from the far side of the kitchen where he and Chris sat at an aged walnut dining table tucked in the corner.

Matt brushed my hand with his as he got up. "What'd we get?"

Nick tossed a breakfast sandwich at him before he made it through the doorway. He peeled back the wrapper. "Nice."

Matt patted Chris on the back as plopped down in one of the empty seats. Nick tapped the rickety chair beside him and I settled into it. Chips were taken out of the edges of the table and there were faded crayon marks embedded in the wood. You could inspect every baseboard, every log in this house and I'd be willing to bet that it would hold remnants of their childhood. This is what a home was supposed to feel like: worn-through with love. Full of family relics. A place you can always come back to regardless of how many years have passed.

"You didn't get a sandwich?" Matt pulled me out of my thoughts. He was chewing on a big bite of bagel.

"She got a cinnamon roll," Chris answered around a mouthful of food.

I pulled one of the pastries out, popping open the cardboard to-go box lid. The vague scent of cinnamon and sugar wafted through my nose as I forked a huge piece of dough into my mouth.