“You’re really buttering me up here.”
I stand, walking to the bed and flopping down beside him. He jostles at the motion, but doesn’t move. “I’m not asking your permission.” My voice is soft, but invites no argument. “It’s not yours to give. I just need you to know he makes me happy, and that I’m going to be okay. You don’t have to worry about me so much, Em.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t,” I argue. “And you want to know why? Because I kind of had the best brother ever. He taught me how to get through the hard things. He taught me what kind of people to not hang out with. He taught me how to drive. He taught me how to stand up to everyone but him.” I slant my eyes at him. “I learned that one on my own.”
“Yeah, and you suck at it.”
“I think I get by.”
“It was my idea to steal the car, you know.” It comes from out of nowhere, so much so that I almost feel whiplash from it, from the way his voice sounds, low and monotone. He’s staring up at the ceiling, face blank. “I don’t know if Reyn told you that.”
I stare at him. “He didn’t.”
“I’m not saying I had to twist his arm or anything,” he says, voice dry. “But we never would have done it if I hadn’t—”
I grab his wrist. “Hey, stop.”
“I’m not a good brother, V.” He rolls his head against the bed, gaze locking with mine. “All that shit you’re talking about—the party, carrying you, scaring people off? I wouldn’t have had to do any of that if I hadn’t...” It’s subtle, the way his voice breaks, but he quickly looks away. “I’m a shit brother.”
I look at the bruise on his jaw. It’s swollen and blotted with blue and purple. It looks painful every time he talks.
I jab my finger into it.
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“Ow!” He flinches, slapping my hand away. “What the fuck!”
“Don’t insult my brother!”
He cradles his jaw, eyes flashing. “You’re insane!”
“And you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought.” I grab his hand. “You’re overbearing, you don’t respect my boundaries, and you have serious control issues. But you’re a good brother!” I make a sharp sound when he opens his mouth. “Not up for debate. I’m the only person you’re a brother to, so my opinion is the only one that counts. Shut up about it.”
My brother is twice the size that I am. He’s broad-shouldered and strong. His muscles are powerful, his gait so sure that colleges are willing to pay him to run down their field. We’re opposites, but with our palms pressed against one another, our blood vibrates, warm and true.
He says, “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel… lonely and isolated. I was just trying to protect you.”
“I know.” I look over at him. “But I can take care of myself.”
He almost looks bashful when he admits, “It’s been nice, having you around this year. Watching you make friends. Being there when you learned to drive.”
“It has been,” I say, squeezing his hand. “I’ll miss it next year.”
“Me, too.”
The room goes silent and we both watch the ceiling. Somewhere out there Reyn is alone, dealing with my mistakes, because I’m finding this new life I lead is precarious and strange. One part of my life clicks into place just as another one falls to pieces. I realize I couldn’t do it. Not without the both of them.
Maybe I’m greedy, but I won’t accept anything less.
It’s late when I hear Mr. McAllister downstairs. I’ve been waiting all day for a call from Gwen or her mom, turning my phone over in my hands, restless and impatient. I don’t know what’s taking so damn long. But when I hear Reyn’s dad, I rush down the stairs as fast as my leg will take me.
He’s sitting at the dining room table with my parents, head hung low. He’s saying, “… has to be within twenty-four hours, so probably in the morning.”
They all look up when I approach. “Did you talk to him?”
Mr. McAllister meets my gaze, giving me a tense, tired grin. “Hello, Vandy. I just came by to apologize for Reyn’s—”