her bed-and-breakfast growing up. Finn and I would do the cooking and cleaning as teenagers.”
“Seriously?”
His eyes cut to me. “You sound surprised.”
“That sounds so . . . quaint. And heartwarming. Very unlike you.”
He chuckles. “We enjoyed it. Got to plan the menus together. The guests loved whatever we’d come up with. We’d trade off being head chef every other night. Finn loved that. Though he loved it a lot less the nights I was in charge. According to him, I’m bossy.”
“No way.” I try for fake surprise. He rewards me with a wink.
“Finn was a bit reckless in the kitchen growing up,” Callum says. “He avoided countless grease fires thanks to me.”
“You’ve got the protective-big-brother act down,” I say.
There’s a long pause. He looks away from me, then clears his throat. “There’s a reason for that.”
“Which is?”
Another extended pause. He takes a breath. “Finn was hit by a car when he was five years old. He was riding his bike, and a drunk driver crashed into him. He nearly died.”
“Oh God.” I cup my hand over my mouth.
“He’s fine now, of course, but he was in a coma at first. I sat by his side every day in the hospital, holding his hand, hoping that he’d just wake up and get better. I thought I was going to lose him, my only brother. My only sibling.”
The hard clench of his jaw, the glistening of his eyes give away just how hard he’s struggling to keep it together while telling me all this.
Like a reflex, my hand falls to his forearm. Inside, I’m cringing. The urge to comfort happened so fast, before I could think twice and hesitate. I expect a frown or for him to ask just what the hell I think I’m doing. But none of that happens. All he does is close his eyes and nod.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
We’ve broken the touch barrier previously with handshakes, but this time, there’s substance to our contact. We’re sharing emotions, memories, pain. Silence floats between us once more, but this time there’s comfort. And it’s mutual.
A minute passes, and I still say nothing. I just keep my palm on his forearm and wait for him to feel ready to speak.
“He woke up two days later to his obnoxious, overprotective eight-year-old brother holding his hand,” Callum says.
“I bet he was over the moon to see you by his side.”
Callum’s eyes take on a friendly sheen when they focus on me. “It took a few moments for him to process what was going on. Then when he did, when he saw me, he smiled.”
There’s a tingling heat between my hand and his arm. I give him a final pat, then slip my hand back to my lap.
“Of course he did,” I say. “His big brother was right there watching over him the whole time.”
He drains the rest of his drink and hands the empty cup to a passing flight attendant with a small smile and a polite thank-you. “I suppose ever since then, I’ve been in protective-brother mode. Whenever people tried to pick on him at school, I’d jump in to defend him. When I was abroad for work, I’d call him every week to check up on him. Even now, he’s twenty-seven and I’m thirty, yet I’m still doing it. When I first moved to Maui, I was only meant to stay to help him for a few months, to help him get his footing. Then I’d move back to Chicago. But I’ve pushed back my moving date so many times. It’s just nice to be close to him for a change and work with him. And see him doing so well. It’s ridiculous, but . . .”
“It’s not. I totally get it.”
He shakes his head. He knows I know what it’s like. Me uprooting my life to be closer to my mom is proof.
“I’m sure he’ll be glad to be rid of his overbearing older brother in a couple of months.”
“So you’re for sure moving back to Chicago then?”
He nods while glancing away. “After the Maui Food Festival.”
I almost ask why he’d go back if he’s enjoying his current setup so much, but I bite my tongue. Given how his eyes darted away when he mentioned it, he probably doesn’t want to say more.
I touch my hand to my face. “Wow. The Question Game goes deep. You should have warned me.”
Another soft smile from him. Inside I’m glowing, like a giant Christmas tree with all the lights on full blast.