Dissolving

Chapter 27 - Relationships

If I ever take part in a bake sale, Jordan will not be the person that I'll ask for help.

I never had him down for someone with great cooking or kitchen skills and I don't remember him being much use whenever it comes to making dinner. He claims to be the BBQ king and that may well be, but barbecueing is one of these irritating guy things that most of my brothers revel in, so it is almost impossible for me to judge who is actually any good at it and who's not. They all tend to crowd around the grill when have a garden party and I prefer to stay far away when they get competitive.

Anyway, I am a bit apprehensive to declare our midnight baking session as successful. The kitchen is a mess. Our clothes are a mess. And if I am unlucky, Will's birthday cake will also be a mess.

I tried to make up for my brother's lack of knowledge by taking charge of making the cake but it was not an easy feat. It is kind of hard to direct Jordan because he is more used to giving orders than receiving them, unless they are "from a superior officer", which obviously does not apply to me. Also, I am not exactly a pro baker, myself. I can do an awesome brownie and that's about it. On the boys' birthdays, it is usually me helping Ben and not the other way round. That means I don't necessarily have to know how to do stuff but just follow Ben's instructions.

One would think that following a recipe should be easy. Well, it is not, if you have a very opinionated baking partner who has no clue what he is talking about but still thinks he knows best. I am pretty sure my current exhaustion is not only due to it being 2am but also because I used up all my energy to prevent Jordan from mixing up a deadly concoction and burning down the house while trying to melt chocolate.

"You should go to bed," Jordan repeats what he has been telling me for the past half hour.

"Not happening. We have to finish that cake," I insist, feeling like a broken record.

I have told him a million times already that we need to decorate Will's cake once it is out of the oven. Which should be in a few minutes.

"How much longer?" I ask.

"7 minutes," he replies after glancing at the timer on his phone.

A yawn escapes my lips and I try to hide it but I am unsuccessful.

Jordan chuckles and reaches out to pull me into him. I struggle a bit, trying to free myself from his embrace. I know that I will fall asleep if I cuddle with him and I cannot let that happen. If we don't finish our masterpiece – I am confident that it will turn out to be just that – we might as well not have done it.

"Such a stubborn kid," Jordan says quietly, combing his fingers through my hair.

"I got that from you," I claim.

"Sure."

He sounds amused but doesn't correct me although we both know that if I "inherited" stubbornness from anyone, it would certainly not be from him. Jordan may be strong-headed, determined and focused and all kinds of things that helped him become the person he is now. But compared to other members of this family, he is not the most bullheaded. Also, obviously, it is technically impossible for me to have inherited any traits from my siblings. I wonder if I got it from my mother or my father. Considering that stubbornness is a trait that a lot of us share, my guess is that this is my elusive father's legacy.

"Do you think Will is going to be here tomorrow?" I wonder.

"Today, you mean?" Jordan teases me.

"Yeah, whatever," I growl, unimpressed. "Do you?"

"I don't know, baby. He's kind of unpredictable that way. Just don't get your hopes up, okay?"

Although I appreciate that Jordan doesn't sugarcoat it and promise me something that he has no control over, his answer still hurts a bit. I am aware that Will's track record of actually showing up on his birthday has been pretty bad for the past five years or so.