Badly Behaved

“What was that?” I ask quietly.

His chest inflates against my back, and he holds his deep breath in for a long moment.

“A little bit of hope his granddad left them,” he tells me. “It’s not a lot by the standards of people here, but for them, it’s more than enough, just like it was enough to get big brother to pretend to play nice for a minute.”

My chest aches.

Money is the devil of this world, and power is its son.

Beretta’s chin falls to my head, and he speaks below a whisper, just in case. “His sister...she’s alive, Trouble.”

I tense, my hands coming up to grip his forearms. I’m tempted to look over my shoulder, but I’m not sure I can look at his face right now.

“But you said... or I thought...”

“She’s partially paralyzed now, and in a home,” he murmurs. “It’s really hard on him, but he’s helpless right now, at his brother’s will. It’s tough, seeing him fall apart. She’s been the most important person in his life since I’ve known him. It’s not for me to say how he’s feeling, but he’s not the same as he was. He tries, but his world is different now.”

How could he not be forever changed?

The weight of his words is too heavy, and my body sags against Beretta’s and he gladly accepts the burden, his stance widening in the sand to hold me up.

“His brother’s a piece of shit, parents are who knows where.” He’s quiet for a long moment before he adds, “He has no one, Trouble, just us.”

I pull in a lungful of air. “Maybe that’s enough.”

He shifts, leaning over slightly so he can meet my eyes, a sorrowful look in his. “No,” he says. “There’s still something missing.”

We hold each other’s gazes a long moment.

“The blackouts, the hiding in the dark,” I mumble. “How you guys hid in the corner of my dressing room that day...”

“He gets in any trouble and it could ruin things for him, his brother will only make his life harder, send him back to jail.” He nods, a somber look in his eye and I know there is more than he is sharing. He grins suddenly. “What’s that Cardi B song say, ‘no face, no case’?”

An instant laugh escapes me, but it’s thick, and while Beretta smiles wide, it’s weighted as well.

The heavy eases the smallest bit as he steps closer, now holding my chin between his fingers. A low sigh leaves him, and he speaks a truth I’m not sure I want to hear.

I’m not sure I should.

“You’re more alike than you think, Trouble,” he says softly. “Just look where you landed after a long day.”

What he means is after a shitty day.

Look where I am, look where Ransom is.

Here, with them.

Where existing is easy and not a series of well-practiced etiquette.

It’s strange, the dynamic we have.

How they can sense what’s going on with me, how Ransom can see right through me. How comfortable I am around them when I don’t even let my hair down, so to speak, around my own sister. Around Cali and Jules.

It’s as if, when they’re near, this little voice is on repeat inside my head, whispering to me, but I can’t quite hear what’s said because it’s just out of reach, and then comes the need to slip closer.

To be closer.

It’s not smart of me, but it’s true.

Arsen puts the last layer of green onion on top of our dip, his hand raising.

I pop a brow, pulling my gloves off and tossing them in the mixing bowl. “Seriously?” I fight a grin but meet his palm with my own.

He locks his fingers around mine, tugging me in with a teasing gleam in his eye, but steps back with a laugh a moment later.

“I think the last time I high-fived anyone had to be when I was five.”

He bumps his shoulder with mine, tossing the can opener into the bowl, and starts wiping the counter, so I carry our trash to the back of the classroom for sanitizing.

Passing the boys’ station, my eyes meet Ransom’s, and a smirk covers my lips when I find, of course, he was already staring.

I toss the gloves in the trash, the utensils in the bin, and the bowl in the sink, taking my sweet time washing my hands.

I don’t look back as I reach up for a paper towel, drying them, and only when I have nothing left to do, do I slowly spin around.

He leans against the counter, his knuckles flexed around the gray granite, head tipped to the side, watching me.

He glances behind him, toward Arsen, and back to me.

He opens his mouth to speak, but a few other students are suddenly here, putting away their own materials.

Ransom shifts and the girl setting her things on the table beside him jumps.