A Tiny Home

Chapter 7

Hank wakes me up at the crack of dawn and tosses my running shoes on the bed. I don't have the energy to be angry, not after a restless sleep filled with bright headlights and hazel eyes. So I climb into some shorts and a sports bra and stumble down the stairs to tie my shoes.

For a while we walk in silence, our muscles warming, our minds waking up. The sunrise inches upwards as does our pace and before I know it we're running the last leg of our standard five-kilometre loop from high school. We slow to a walk as we reach our street and I throw my hands over my head taking deep breaths.

"God it feels good." Hank smiles up at the sun.

"I thought you were still running up there in Toronto."

"I said Amy runs, I never had the time." He shrugs, "I guess I was too busy."

"Speaking of, what the hell is your job again," I ask.

He laughs, "I'm an engineer."

"No, you aren't, money man."

"Fine, I run an engineering firm."

I jostle him in the ribs.

"See you're a businessman."

"Sure I am." He chortles. "If I am so are you, you're practically running a tiny house business with Sir William."

"I hate when you call him that."

"Not as much as you hate being called Hannah Honey Bear."

"Ugh, you're both the worst. That nickname needs to die." I sit into a deep hamstring stretch and breath deep. "Anyways, we are not going into business together. He's cutting me a deal on his services in exchange for my home being a show home."

"The home you designed, the home he'll build." My brother grabs water from the garage and tosses one to me. "I'm just saying it'd be smart to consider it as a career possibility."

"I'm a writer," I argue.

"Yeah, a good one. You can't be a travel writer forever though. What if you want to settle down?"

"Then I'd write and sell pieces about that," I say shrugging. "Or I'd write a novel, be the next Margaret Atwood."

Hank sits next to me and touches his toes.

"Well, I guess that could work. I'm just saying, you should consider it."

"And I'm just saying I'm leaving so that wouldn't be practical would it."

"Maybe I just don't want you to leave again."

I turn and look at my brother who shrugs.

"It's nice having you home. Especially nice for Will, he doesn't really have friends here anymore."

"He has you," I argue.

"Yeah but, just me. I have all the guys from work, Amy's brothers and friends. I don't know it's good for him to be getting out."

"Hank, we aren't going out. We're working." I say standing and walking towards the front door.

"Working can be sociable," Hank says hopping up to his feet.

"Whatever."

"Who wants pancakes." Mom calls from the kitchen and our conversation is mercifully dropped.

As I pour real maple syrup over my breakfast the thoughts Hank planted begin circling in my mind.

What if I don't like BC? What if I do want to settle down? Maybe Will and I do make a great team...