Jessica was standing beside the island.
She had one hand near a grocery bag, but she was not unpacking it. She was simply standing there, avoiding my eyes.
“Ryan,” I said carefully, “this is my house.”
He smirked.
“Jessica said we could use it.”
His tone suggested that the matter had already been settled.
“There are almost twenty of us,” he continued, “and you’re one person. Don’t ruin everybody’s weekend. Drive back to base.”
A relative near the table laughed.
Someone else shook his head as though I were being unreasonable by standing in my own doorway.
I kept my attention on Ryan.
“Jessica gave you permission to bring all these people here?”
“She’s your sister,” he replied. “Why would she need permission?”
That answer told me more than he realized.
To Ryan, the house was not something I had earned. It was an unused family resource, and my absence had apparently convinced him that he could claim it whenever he wanted.
