No Saint (Wild Men 6)

“I didn’t mean anything.” Josh shoots me a wide-eyed look that he still manages to make accusing. “You just... you weren’t here all this time, you can’t just come back and... and take over again.”

Take over?

Is that what I’m doing? Is that... am I like Ross? Intimidating Josh, forcing him to do what I want? My heart is pounding too hard in my chest. I feel sick.

Dumping my burger and fries on the table, I get up. “Excuse me.”

“Luna... wait.” Dad starts after me. “He didn’t mean anything. Tell her, Josh. He wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay, Dad. I’m just going to make a phone call. Go ahead and start the movie.” It doesn’t sit well with me, to ruin their evening just because I freaked out.

This is ridiculous, that I should react like this.

It’s just a word, I tell myself as I race up the stairs to my room and close the door behind me, as I grab the phone to—what? Call who? Dena? My cousins? Aunt Emily? Just a word.

Josh didn’t mean it. People use words wrong all the time, not realizing their power. Their real meaning. Their ability to hurt. Josh is still a kid. He doesn’t know any better.

He’s a good kid.

And I’m strong now. Stronger than ever before. Aunt Emily drilled this into me these past three years: I am enough. Good enough, beautiful enough, intelligent enough. Nobody can take that from me.

So I take a deep breath, grip my phone so tightly the edges dig into my palm and return to the living room, take my seat between Josh and dad.

Grab my food.

Try on a smile.

“Hey...” My brother fixes me with sad puppy eyes. “I’m sorry, Luna. I really am. Didn’t mean it.”

“I know, squirt. I know.”

Josh is not my enemy. My family has always stood by me, even if Josh has always been in his own world, most of the time. Better for him.

And who is my enemy? Ross? Myself?

Where is the line between bullying and teasing, between being mean and actually hurting someone?

This is too complicated. Not even Aunt Emily could untangle it for me. I have to find out for myself, one step at a time...

Chapter Six

Ross

My phone rings as I return my safety helmet and gloves, getting ready to leave work. I ignore it, focusing on getting the hell out of the goddamn construction site, before anyone corners me. These days, nowhere is it safe for the likes of me.

How the mighty have fallen, right? Dad did well with his garage business, and I grew up with expensive clothes, shoes, a good phone, money to spend. On videogames, on booze. On bets and cards. Dad didn’t care. I had power in this small town, did whatever I wanted. Had everything I wished for.

Everything, except what I really needed.

Hey, it doesn’t matter. I fucked it all up, we all know that. Nothing new there. We know I’m a bastard, so let’s fast-forward.

The phone is ringing, everyone’s giving me the stink-eye for, I dunno, breaking the sacred silence, owning a phone, breathing? All of that? So I hurry out to answer, knowing full well who it is. Who’s been calling and pestering me for days now.

He won’t let up until I reply.

Scowling, I trudge out of the gate and fish the phone out of my backpack. “What do you want?”

“Hey, big brother,” Merc’s annoying, cheery voice comes down the line, a mosquito buzz. “What’s up? You’ve been avoiding my calls again, dude.”