Page 80 of Every Heartbeat After

Mom rolls her eyes, nudging my father with an elbow before leveling me with the kind of stare only a mother can master, somehow holding love and exasperation in tandem. “All we wanted for you in life was to be happy and safe. Your marriage ending didn’t disappoint us. Neither did you changing jobs. What would’ve been disappointing is you staying with someone who didn’t value you the way you deserve because you thought it was the right thing to do. Eff the right thing. It’s a load of bologna most of the time anyway.”

I choke on a chuckle. My face is wet, I realize, and not with sweat. With tears that have spilled from my eyes onto my cheeks, pouring in rivulets down the column of my throat. Mom reaches up to swipe them from my skin. Her touch is cool despite the heat. It reminds me of being little and her checking me for a fever. Sometimes I’d grab her hand and hold it in place because the iciness was such a reprieve from the fire burning me up inside.

I feel small all of a sudden. Dependent. And my God, it’s such a relief. To be a child to my parents, despite being grown. To let myself crumble and trust that they’ll be strong for me.

It makes me ache for Tess. For all that she misses.

She must sense the shift in my thoughts, because Mom half frowns at me and nods toward the door. “Should we go inside where it’s cool? I made some fresh sweet tea. You can tell us how the rest of your vacation went.”

I hesitate, worrying my bottom lip. “Isn’t there something we should be doing?”

Dad shakes his head. “We called that lawyer you mentioned. He’s coming by tomorrow to chat through next steps.”

“Until then?” I ask.

“We wait,” they say in sync.

“We wait,” I echo, hating how it sounds like giving up. Waiting for my brother. Waiting for Tess. I crave action, to feel like I’m actually doing something to move forward, but maybe that’s exactly why this is what’s best. If I’d slowed down sooner, perhaps love wouldn’t have caught me so unprepared. Then I could’ve been what Tess needed instead of just another person she felt she had to pretend to be okay for.

“Sweet tea?” Mom repeats while tugging my arm.

I nod. Allow myself to be dragged inside. We talk about Gage intermittently. They ask about Tess, and I surprise myself by being honest. We order pizza for dinner from the only joint in town that delivers, and we fall asleep exhausted and emotionally spent, with enough beer in my system to not obsess over the fact that my bed still smells like Tess.

The lawyer tells us there’s not much to be done until my brother is found. We each try to call him, but to no avail. After days of this, I finally relent that I’ll have to return to work. When it’s time to go, it’s much harder than I expect. But I leave knowing the air is clear between us, and for that I stand taller. I’m no longer shouldering the burden alone, and neither are they. We’ll face whatever comes as a family, for better or worse.

I promised myself I would give Tess space but can’t help texting her a picture as I pass the exit that leads to her hometown. Every mile that passes after feels like my heart is being pulled taut between two points. Where I’m going, and where I belong. With her. Yet I keep pushing forward, knowing it’s what’s best for us both for now.

Denver International greets me with its usual cacophonic chaos. I retrieve my Hellcat from the parking garage and drive in silence back to Loveless. The familiar streets feel wrong somehow. Like instead of mountains in the distance, there should be an ocean. Like a woman in a blue sundress should be strolling down the sidewalk, rings shimmering on every finger as she waves.

Twilight has settled in by the time I reach my small house on a tree-lined street. At first I don’t notice the figure waiting for me on my stoop. I’m too caught up in my own melancholy to be vigilant. It’s not until a familiar voice rattles the otherwise quiet night that I look up and my heart stalls in my chest.

Gage steps into the puddle of light cast by a nearby streetlamp. “Man, am I glad to see you.”

My professional instincts kick in before my brain can process what’s happening. By the time I’m fully online, I’ve already dragged my brother and my bags into the house and deposited both at my dining room table.

“What the fuck, man?” he grumbles. He reeks of cigarettes and body odor. God knows how long he’s been without a shower.

“My thoughts exactly.” I plant both hands on the table across from him and stare my brother down. His shaggy hair is even more bedraggled than usual, matted to one side of his head. He peers up at me with bloodshot eyes, and I wonder how the hell he still manages to find a fix even out of his normal environment. Addiction always finds a way; there’s no doubt about that. “So you can’t answer a damn phone call but you think it’s perfectly fine to show up at my house as a fucking fugitive?”

He throws his hands in the air. “What other choice did I have? This is all your fault anyway.”

My laugh is threadbare. “Please, enlighten me on how exactly it is my fault that you stole a car and nearly killed someone with it. Two someones, might I add. There was a kid in that car, Gage.”

“How the hell do you know that?” He at least has the decency to look horrified for a flashing moment before his walls of anger and indignation fly back up.

“Because I was first on the scene, asshole.”

His nostrils flare at the insult. “Well, I wouldn’t have been running in the first place if it weren’t for you. You wouldn’t let me go to Mom and Dad, and Easton‘s hotshot lawyer had the bright idea for him to testify against me to save his own skin. He kicked me out of his house. Said he couldn’t have contact with me.”

“So you decided to steal a goddamn car?”

“Iborrowedhis,” he bites out. “I was going to give it back. I just needed to get to this girl’s house, Chelsea. We’d been seeing each other here and there. She said I could hang with her till it all blew over. But then that bitch came out of nowhere on the interstate. I was in my fucking lane!”

It’s fruitless to point out just how unreliable of a narrator he is, so I don’t even bother. “I don’t think you realize just how big of a deal this is, Gage. That woman could’ve died. Hell, hersoncould’ve died.”

“But they didn’t!” he whines. After a beat, his eyes widen. “They didn’t, right?”

“No, and thank God for that. Because instead of vehicular manslaughter now you get to face vehicular assault and hit-and-run charges. On top of your drug charges. You’re going to go to prison.”

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