Page 45 of Every Heartbeat After

“Okay,” I say as we each shut our car doors behind us. The scent of fried food quickly fills the cab. I’ll have to leave the windows cracked tonight, otherwise we’ll smell like a deep fryer by the time we get back to the Carmen. “I’m ready to talk.”

She swallows a fry and shakes her head. “You don’t have to. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. You just watched me bail my brother out of jail without so much as a flinch.”

“So thatwasyour brother.” It’s not a question. Merely an observation. She takes a long pull from the straw in her Coke, then deposits it in the cupholder and rests her chin in an upturned hand, elbow braced on the center console. “I’m not going to pry, Kit. It was a surprise. But I’m glad I was there. You didn’t need to go through that alone.”

My chest physically aches at her words. I’d be convinced I’m having a heart attack if the circumstances were different. But they aren’t. Gage is currently on his way back to his normal life, without an inch of remorse for what he did. And I’m in a car with Tess, thinking she looks more beautiful, yet unattainable, by the second.

After all, how could she want to be part of a mess like this? A mess like me?

She breaks eye contact first, and probably for the better. I don’t fully trust that my brother won’t go back on his word and head straight for our parents’ house. I crank the car and say a prayer of thanks for whomever invented air conditioning, because I’d be fainting without it. From the sweltering Mississippi heat as well as the pain of being back under such awful circumstances.

It’s not that I thought I’d never come home. I just wasn’t ready. Still am not. But like is so often true for him, Gage didn’t give me much of a choice.

“Gage is his name.” I say it mostly to fill the silence, but once the faucet’s on, it’s hard to stop. “He’s my kid brother, six years younger than me.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her lips form a limp smile. “I always wanted a little brother.”

My brows knit together. “Parents didn’t want more kids?”

She shakes her head. “Said they nailed it the first time. I never appreciated the euphemism, but it’s a sweet sentiment nonetheless.”

A laugh scalds my throat. I take a sip of my Coke to soothe it, swallowing hard. “Well, take it from me. They saved you a lot of headaches.”

“Still, it would’ve been nice.” She hums thoughtfully, gaze trained out the window at a swath of trees smothered by kudzu on the side of the road. “When they died, I would’ve done anything to have a sibling. Someone who understood what it was like to be me.”

At a stop sign, I let my eyes close and try to imagine a world in which my parents are gone and Gage is all I have left. When I speak again, my voice is limp. Lifeless. “He’s a drug addict. Has been for a while now. Rehab, scared straight programs, AA. None of it helped.”

Her palm settles over my knee. Even through my jeans, and despite the heat outside, her warmth is soothing. “I’m so sorry, Kit. I can’t imagine.”

I roll through the intersection, past a few run-down houses, then turn right down a familiar two-lane highway. “My parents can’t know about today. Promise you won’t say anything?”

A quick glance tells me she’s blinking in shocked confusion. “Do they not know about his drug problems?”

“Oh, they do. But I made him stop calling them for shit like this years ago. He was bleeding them dry. Financially and emotionally. They’re getting older, and I just couldn’t stand to watch it break them down every time he relapsed. So I handle things now. It’s better this way.”

“For whom?” she asks quietly, almost as if she doesn’t expect an answer. And there’s no time to give her one, because my childhood home has come into view.

I gaze up at the familiar facade, trying to see it through her eyes. The faded brick that’s more pink than red these days. The sagging carport my dad added on in ’99. They’ve built a shed since I last visited, which I know from our texts is meant to hold all Mom’s gardening supplies. It’s bright purple and looks so garish next to the ’70’s ranch-style home that I let out a harsh laugh. Tess raises a brow at me, and I just shake my head.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I ask while gnawing at my bottom lip.

She shrugs. “Parents love me. I’m pretty sure Samantha’s mom wanted to keep me in the breakup.”

This time my laugh is genuine. Who wouldn’t want to keep Tess? “Come on, then. No time like the present.”

With her lunch in one hand, Tess meets me at the front of the car and loops the other around my arm. She traces imaginary shapes into the crook of my elbow the entire walk up, and it gives me the courage I so sorely need to knock on my parents’ door.

* * *

“I just cannot believe you are here, son.” Dad slaps his knees and pushes to a stand. “You sure you don’t want a beer?”

“I’m good,” I say, waving a hand. I glance to my right at Tess, who’s leaning away from me to gaze adoringly at the photo album my mom is holding out for her to see. “Do you want one,shnookums?”

She rolls her eyes and gives a breathy laugh. “No,honeybun,I’m already drunk on the high of seeing your naked baby tush.”

My jaw slackens. “Mama, you promised no tush!”

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