Page 8 of Pen Me

“That’s awesome, friend.” I hushed and stared down the sign that read, Welcome to Illinois.

“Are you excited to be…” She trailed off when she saw my face, only to weakly finish, “... back home?”

I wagged a finger at the upcoming Exchange Avenue exit, “Just shoot me now or drop me off there.”

She back swatted my arm and sharply cackled. “Stop it! Oh, my God. Remember that time we snuck out and got robbed down there? Your dad had to come fetch us at four in the morning.”

She was almost in hysterics, her eyes wet enough for her to wipe at them between giggles.

“You tried to tell him it was a decent hour because there were children selling newspapers in the street already.” She managed, though it was garbled with giggles.

I nodded, my expression alone thanking her for the reminder.

“Samantha Jo–” I threw my voice, finally loosening up enough to laugh with her as I imitated his raspy tone, “I ain’t raisin’ no dumbasses around here, and you ain’t speakin’ to one neither. Just what in the hell do you think those little sharp-eyed bastards had in the middle o’ them thirty-dollar newspapers? Them there weren’t no after dinner mints, m’kay, Babygirl?”

She sounded like a goddamn hyena. We almost missed our next exit.

“Ah, fuck. I missed you. I love you guys so much.” She sighed.

“Have you seen Sauce lately?” I sobered up enough to ask after my youngest brother.

She shot her arm out, and the sleeve rode up her arm a little with the gesture alone. I took her wrist in hand and studied the butterfly.

“He’s gotten better.” I admired, with a lazy smile.

“Mhm. Quieter, too.”

I sighed. Sauce had taken Ruby’s death the hardest. He’d gotten into the pool without permission that day. He was just a small boy himself, but our mother had to go in and fetch him. In theprocess of getting him out and rescuing him, she didn’t realize Ruby had gone in after her.

He’s struggled with survivor’s guilt from a brutally young age. It was why I felt bad for confronting him about his choice to join the Dirty Savages. If having a club made him feel human, who was I to say anything? I was gone. Mom was gone. The twins were both enlisted with careers of their own. Dad was with the club–

What did I expect?

“Mom’s house or–”

“Dad’s place,” I interjected, certain he wouldn’t be home.

I hugged her once we pulled up.

“I’ll call you tonight, we’ll plan something,” I promised. “I want to see your new studio, too!”

“For sure.” Mae beamed.

I shut the door, but didn’t move. I remained on the curb, with my luggage, waving like a fool. I wasn’t big on goodbyes, but I pretended to watch her drive off because I suddenly couldn’t face my father’s house.

My eyes stung and despite my efforts to make my lungs expand, they would not obey me. Not until that luggage was plucked off the ground beside me.

I sucked in a wild breath and spun around, my eyes bugging even before they landed on the haunted hazel gaze I loved so much.

“Malachi,” I coughed out that harsh breath.

“Sauce,” he grunted in correction.

He didn’t move, or break eye contact, either. Sometimes he could be so animated, others…he was ice.

“What are you doin’ here?” he finally asked.

I blinked and reached for my luggage, but he turned and started for the door, not allowing me to take any of it.

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