Chương 3
“He told me not to sign anything Derek gives me.”
There was silence.
Then, “That is considerably worse.”
“He also said they were trying to keep everybody from losing everything.”
“Everybody who?”
“He didn’t say.”
Morgan exhaled slowly.
“Do not sign anything.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“I know, but now I’m saying it in my official annoying-friend voice.”
“You have several annoying-friend voices.”
“This is the one with banking experience.”
I sat at the small kitchen table I had assembled the night before.
One leg was still slightly uneven, and it rocked when I leaned on it.
“What could Derek even want me to sign?”
“A lot of things.”
“Helpful.”
“Loan documents, a guaranty, something tied to housing, a private agreement, a refinance application if he’s desperate enough to think you’d do it.”
“My house is brand new.”
“To you.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.”
She paused.
“Natalie, I think you need the actual court file, not just the docket.”
The county clerk’s online system gave me enough information to request copies, but not every document was available immediately.
The next morning, before work, I submitted requests for the complaint, judgment entries, and anything that appeared connected to the property transfer.
I paid the small copying fee and felt ridiculous for feeling guilty.
That guilt had been trained into me so thoroughly it behaved like muscle memory.
Looking at public records felt intrusive even though my family had attempted to unload the consequences of those records into my spare bedroom.
By lunch, Mom had sent six messages.
The first two were angry.
The third said Derek was devastated.
The fourth said Kelsey had been crying.
The fifth said Dad had “misspoken” the night before.
The sixth said, We should all sit down together and stop acting like strangers.
I answered only the last one.
Tell me why Derek and Kelsey cannot stay with you.
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
They vanished.
Returned.
Vanished again.
Finally she wrote, Our situation is different.
I stared at the screen.
Different how?
No answer came.
That afternoon, I was reviewing a denial report when my extension rang.
The receptionist downstairs said, “There’s a man here asking for you.”
“Who?”
“He says he’s your brother.”
My stomach tightened.
“Did he say why?”
“No.”
I closed my spreadsheet.
“I’ll come down.”
Derek was standing near the security desk in jeans and a gray polo, looking irritatingly normal.
No boxes.
No U-Haul.
No dramatic expression.
Just my younger brother shifting his weight from one foot to the other while hospital employees passed behind him carrying coffees and badge reels.
“What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to talk somewhere you couldn’t slam a door in my face.”
“That’s a great opening.”
His mouth tightened.
“Can we go outside?”
“I have twenty minutes.”
We crossed to a concrete courtyard where two nurses were sharing takeout at a picnic table.
Derek sat on a bench.
I stayed standing.
He looked up at me.
“Mom told me you found the court stuff.”
“Dad told her?”
“I guess.”
“What exactly are you asking me for?”
His eyebrows drew together.
“A place to stay.”
“Dad warned me not to sign anything.”
The color changed in his face.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
I sat down.
“Now would be a good time to stop lying.”
“I haven’t lied to you.”
“You let me believe you and Kelsey were renters.”
“That wasn’t your business.”
“You showed up at my house with a truck.”
He rubbed both palms over his knees.
A helicopter thudded somewhere above the hospital, growing louder before fading toward the rooftop landing area.
“Kelsey bought that house before we got serious.”
“Okay.”
“She refinanced it.”
“Why?”
“To put money into something.”
“What?”
He looked away.
I waited.
“A business.”
“What kind of business?”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“It apparently matters seventy-five thousand dollars’ worth.”
“That number isn’t right.”
“Morgan said the current payoff could be different.”
His head snapped toward me.
“You showed Morgan?”
“She doesn’t know anything beyond public filings.”
“That’s still our private business.”
I almost laughed.
Instead, I pressed my lips together.
“What business?”
Derek stared at the landscaping between us.
Finally he said, “A training studio.”
“You opened a gym?”
“Not exactly.”
He explained in fragments.
A friend of his named Colton had wanted to open a private fitness and recovery studio on the south side.
Derek had planned to handle memberships and marketing.
Colton supposedly had investors.
Kelsey refinanced her house and put money into equipment, improvements, deposits, and startup costs.
The lease was signed.
Equipment was ordered.
Then one of the investors disappeared.
Another pulled out.
Colton stopped answering calls.
The studio never properly opened.
“How much did you put in?”
Derek scratched his jaw.
“Enough.”
“That isn’t a number.”
“About fifty.”
“Fifty thousand?”
“Between us.”
“Where did the rest come from?”
“Fees.”
I looked at him.
“And?”
He swore under his breath.
“And other stuff.”
“What other stuff?”
“Credit cards.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“You know exactly.”
“I don’t carry all our balances around in my head like you would.”
There it was.
The tiny insult slipped into the middle of his confession because even cornered, Derek still needed me to be the strange one.
I stood.
“Then this conversation is over.”
“Nat, sit down.”
“No.”
He caught himself before reaching for my arm.
“We lost the house.”
I stopped.
His voice had changed.
The defensiveness was gone.
For the first time since the truck arrived, he sounded tired.
“Kelsey’s parents helped with a few payments, but they couldn’t keep doing it.”
He swallowed.
“We tried selling before things got worse.”
“And the transfer?”
“Short sale.”
That explained part of the record.
Not all of it.
“Where are you staying now?”
“A hotel.”
“You told Mom you had nowhere to go.”
“We can’t stay in a hotel forever.”
“Then stay with Mom and Dad.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“They can’t.”
“Why?”
He said nothing.
May you like
“Derek.”
“Dad borrowed against the house.”
