—BOB DYLAN, “JOHN BROWN” The quote was decoupaged across the neck of Denny’s guitar case. A duffel bag stuffed like a man-sized sausage blocked the screen door from fully opening. Eden squeezed through, and it clapped at her back. He turned, and the first thing she noticed was that he’d grown his hair out. The shaggy whorls spilled over his ears, and aviator sunglasses were pushed up on his forehead. Great, she thought, this must be his new thing. A Dylan phase. “E!” He opened his arms wide, exposing a tattooed heart surrounded by thorns on his biceps. That was definitely not there the last time she’d seen him. Her face flushed hot. “What is that?” He bear-hugged her, and she was buried in his chest. Pine and nutmeg: he still wore their father’s same aftershave. Her stomach dipped at the olfactory memory of father, brother, family, and days she’d forgotten—but here they were. “Does a little brother need an excuse to visit his big sister?” Not an excuse but a call first, yes.
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