My Sweet Bully

He’s already sold off everything valuable a long time ago. Which is why we don’t have a television, or any decent furniture, and I eat off paper plates. He even tried to sell my radio a few months back, but it’s so old no one wanted it.

Moving through the house with ease, I know my father isn’t home because his car is gone. I’m actually surprised he hasn’t tried to sell that yet, but it’s a piece of shit, and he knows it.

Relaxing my shoulders, I open the fridge and poke around inside. There isn’t much. Half a loaf of bread, a few slices of government cheese, a bottle of mustard, and a couple beers are the only things inside.

Pulling out a slice of processed cheese, and a partially stale slice of bread, I lay the cheese inside and fold it in half. It isn’t a real meal, but it’s enough.

Taking a big bite, I shut the fridge, and grab a cup from the cupboard. Filling it with water from the tap, I take the cup down the hall toward my room. I feel good, like actually good for once. Things in my life aren’t so bad right now.

Prairie fills this empty hole I’ve had since I was a kid, a hole that has never been filled by anyone or anything else. Even basketball never touched this emptiness—but she has. I’m smiling to myself as I move through the dark house, and I can’t stop it. Her eyes ignite a heat in my gut, like gasoline poured on a fire.

I can’t stop thinking about touching, licking, tasting her, over and over. The past weekend isn’t enough, not now, not since she gave herself to me.

That girl is doing things to me. And I don’t want her to stop. She’s making me see color, when all I’ve been able to see is gray. She’s taken the sorrow and anger I’ve used to keep people away and twisted it into a warmth that’s been slowly seeping through my body.

Taking a bite of my cheese sandwich, I look down at the light spilling into the hall from under my brother’s door. Stopping, I pop the door open slightly, and slip my hand inside to turn it off.

“Hey, what the fuck! I’m in here.”

Wait. . . What? Was that. . .

No, it can’t be, it’s too soon.

The door flies open, and Harlow is standing in the threshold. He looks bigger than I remember, thicker, more muscular. Even having seen him recently, the orange jump suit was enough to hide his size. My brother has always been bigger, but he definitely bulked up in jail.

“Little bro!” he yells with a grin. “Where the hell you been?” He leans against the door frame, rubbing his jaw as he eyes me. “Dad’s down at Gully’s Tavern, saw his car there when I was walking home from the bus stop. I guess he’s decided to keep living as if I was never gone.”

I force a smile, pretending like I’m happy he’s here, but inside that’s not what I feel. It feels like I suddenly swallowed a rock. My stomach hurts, it’s heavy and curdling, and I’m not sure, but I feel like I might throw up.

He isn’t supposed to get out for another five months—five. My palms start sweating as I think about Prairie and how the hell this is going to work. I’ll have to be cautious, watching my every move so my brother doesn’t find out about us.

The last thing he’ll ever want to hear is that I’m falling for our enemy. But she’s not my enemy, she’s his enemy. By default, that makes her mine.

There’s an expectation on my shoulders. I’m supposed to stand behind him, to stand up for him, to move with him. Because we’re brothers. That’s all the reason I need to see the side of the line I should be on.

Only I feel like I’m standing with a foot on each, getting pulled between two worlds. The devil and the angel each have an arm, and neither want to let go.

“Harlow, what are you doing here?” I ask, swallowing the acid that’s sitting in the back of my throat.

“Uh, I live here, dick.” His eyes dart back and forth over mine as his brows crawl across his forehead. “Fuck, Max, I thought you of all people would be happy to see me.”

“I am, I am,” I quickly blurt out, trying to recover from the shock I know he sees on my face. “I mean, you just surprised me. I didn’t know you were getting out so soon. I was there last week, and you didn’t say shit.”

“I didn’t know either. The judge let me out on good behavior.”

Harlow is wearing the same outfit he had on that day. The dark blue t-shirt with a giant middle finger in the center in yellow dye, and a pair of worn jeans. I can still see the dirt and soot on his thighs from where he wiped his hands.