Nothing Super [COMPLETED]

Chapter 9 - "You can tell me anything."

Shock and panic collided in Taylor. The instinct to hide coursed through her, but she shook her head reminding herself of where and who she was at that moment. Still holding the door, she retreated a step, allowing room for entry.

"You're late," she said, remembering to keep her voice in her normal pitch. "Also why did you ring the doorbell?"

"I'm not late," Weston said. "Mom always starts five minutes later than she plans. And I bumped the doorbell on accident."

Weston stepped into the house, kicking off his shoes and hanging his jacket on the peg rack by the door. Within a second, the determined detective was replaced by the easy-going brother. In socks and a t-shirt, it seemed impossible that the two existed in the same person.

From down the hallway, their mother stuck her head out of the kitchen.

"Oh Weston, you're right on time," she said.

Weston looked to Taylor and she rolled her eyes.

"Wow the golden child is right on time, how did I ever doubt him?"

As Taylor made for the kitchen, Weston hooked his hand around her arm and tugged her back.

"Woah, Woah, Woah," he said. "You going to explain to me how this happened?"

He pointed at the still healing bruise on her face. Taylor prodded the area, almost forgetting it had been there. The earthy smelling cream Clint's sister had given her was working, the bruise was now in the last ugly yellow-brown stage. Taylor crossed her arms.

"You know how school is, it's not the students that are dangerous, but the locker doors. They show no mercy."

Weston's concern wasn't assuaged by the comment.

"You understand, you can't lie to me. I'm a detective. Tay, I know a right hook when I see it."

"So lockers are more adequate at combat than you would think."

The joke had the opposite effect that she wanted. Weston took a step closer, frowning.

"What's going on? Are you okay?"

Taylor dropped the joking grin, knowing that he would press more than her own parents. Lucky her, she had a detective for a brother.

"Wes, it's nothing to worry about, it honestly was an accident."

"No one gets a punch to the face by accident."

"In this case someone does. Can you please not make a big deal out of it? They don't need to worry."

It was a sly trick and one Taylor knew would work. When Weston eased back, she knew she had won him over and hated herself for it. Sighing, Weston ran a hand over his short hair.

"Fine, but do you need help with this?"

"I got it. It's not something likely to happen again."

After a long minute - where her brother scrutinized her - he nodded but the line of concern etched between his brows remained. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, bringing into contrast how much taller and broader he was than her, having gotten all their father's genes. When they walked into the kitchen, their mother beamed. Weston accepted her hug and kiss on his cheek, despite the fact he had to bend down to receive it. Before he could return to his full height, their mother cupped his face.

"Are you eating?" she asked.

Even though he was thirty-two, his mother still looked at him as if he were a twenty-year-old college student who was trying to figure out life.