The Opposite of Nothing by Shari Slade

doesn’t happen on its own. You have to make it happen. All that waiting?” He shook his head. “You didn’t get your patience from your mom. Eat. I can’t promise this is any good cold. I’ve never let it sit long enough to find out.”
    It was good. Not exactly gourmet, but far more edible than anything she could’ve managed. “You found all this in my kitchen?”
    “A box of mac and cheese, a pack of hot dogs, some canned tomatoes. Not much to it. Of course, I’ll never divulge my secret ingredient.”
    “Okay, Chef Boyardee. Your secrets are wasted on me anyway. I may have the culinary equivalent of a black thumb.”
    “I’ll teach you a few tricks.”
    Swallowing hard, she tried to clear the lump of food suddenly caught in her throat. She wanted him to teach her more than a few tricks, and none of them involved cooking.
    Thinking like that was absolutely not the way to get back to normal with him. She shoveled another forkful into her mouth. If she kept her mouth busy, she couldn’t say anything she’d regret.
    When they both finished, he cleared their plates. She heard running water and the clank of silverware.
    “Please don’t do the dishes too. You already rescued dinner. I’ll wash up.”
    “Come dry.”
    Her very full belly somehow managed to flip at his command. She could do that.
    The sight of Tayber leaning into the counter, up to his elbows in soapy water, intent on his task, was ridiculously sexy and painfully domestic. The sharpness of her desire surprised her. She’d be fantasizing about household chores for the rest of her life. He tilted his pelvis toward her, and it took her a moment to realize he was offering her the dish towel still tucked into his pants. She went hot all over. Jesus. And hesitated, before tugging the edge furthest from his crotch.
    A bang on the door startled them both. The only person who would knock on her door without calling first was standing in front of her.
    “Tayber, I know you’re in there.”
    He tensed, then paled, dropping the pan he was scrubbing.
    “You weren’t expecting company, were you? Who is it?” She twisted the towel into a knot.
    “That is my fucking brother.” He shook his hands, spraying droplets of water all over the kitchen, and stormed the door. Leaving the security chain in place, he cracked it open.
    “You gonna let me in?”
    “Fuck no. I’ll meet you downstairs in a minute.” He slammed the door shut before his brother could protest.
    “I’m sorry about this, Callie. We’ve been—” He slumped against the wall and looked up like he was searching the ceiling for answers. “—estranged for a while.”
    “What can I do? How can I help?” She knew too much to trust herself with anything more than platitudes. How had his brother found him here?
    “You can’t. I’ll go talk to him. Can’t avoid him now.”
    “I’ll go with you.”
    “No. I know I said our pasts don’t matter, but mine does when he shows up on your doorstep.”
    “Try and stop me.” She would be there for him, for this. She wouldn’t leave him. She pressed her lips into a thin, hard line.
    He scrubbed his face with a damp hand, fingers still pruney, and shrugged. Defeated.
    She followed him out of the apartment and down the stairs.
    * * *
    A aron paced the sidewalk, a heavier, craggier version of Tayber. He crushed a cigarette under his boot when Tayber slammed the exterior door.
    He hopped off the stoop, skipping the steps, charging toward Aaron and leaving Callie behind. “How’d you find me?”
    “Since you wouldn’t return my calls or my emails, I went to your dorm. Your empty dorm.” Aaron closed the distance between them and poked Tayber in the shoulder. “Some guy in the hallway said he helped you move and told me I might find you here.”
    “Don’t touch me. You’re not welcome here.” Tayber shoved him.
    Aaron stumbled back. “Doesn’t being brothers count for anything?”
    “It stopped counting when you didn’t pick up the