Page 82 of Every Heartbeat After

Without hesitation, Tomas hoists himself off his barstool, straightening a T-shirt representing a soccer team I don’t recognize, and gestures to the door. “After you.”

By the time we’re disappearing through the entryway, Zoey has rejoined Gary at the bar, and they speak with heads lowered and eyes darting in our direction.

The night is cool and damp. I hadn’t noticed before that it was raining. Nothing like the storms in Florida that Tess and I endured, ones you couldn’t possibly ignore. But the sidewalks cradle puddles of water that reflect back the streetlamps that line downtown Loveless. The soft pitter-patter of wayward drops falling from storefront awnings supplements the sounds of a busy Friday evening. Tomas takes one look around and gestures for my vehicle. “If you want privacy, that’s the only place you’re getting it.”

I grunt my agreement. We duck into the SUV, and I crank it enough to turn on the heat, which feels like sacrilege in the dead of summer, but my muscles need the encouragement to relax. The familiar surroundings of my dark patrol car and a muted Loveless hustling past just outside the tinted windows helps quiet my tumultuous thoughts. It helps that Tomas doesn’t push. It’s part of what makes him such a good sheriff. He knows when to shut up and wait. His level of patience makes me look like an overstimulated toddler by comparison.

Until it’s my secret in need of keeping. Suffice to say, for that, I can hold out with the best of them.

My hands thaw out first. Probably because I’m wringing them together like sodden rags. “Remember when I said it was family stuff keeping me longer?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t… I know I don’t really talk about them much. My family.” My insides feel like they’ve been turned on their heads. Any second I’m going to spill my guts right here in this car. Either figuratively or literally. Neither will be pretty. “I have a younger brother.”

Tomas’s eyes glint in the dark. I can feel their weight on my skin. Not pressing but not relenting either. He doesn’t say a word.

“Gage is… troubled, I guess you’d say.” What am I doing? My brother is a fucking drug addict. Have I never said those words aloud? Surely I have. So why does it feel so impossible now?

Probably because it, like so much else, feels as though it’s my fault. No matter what my parents say. I may not have handed him the drugs, but have I not enabled him by giving him a safe place to hide? Have I not thrown money at the problem and pretended that it had any real chance of solving it?

It’s Gage’s addiction, Gage’s life. So why does it feel so intertwined with my own?

Tomas finally decides to take mercy on me. “Your brother had some minor drug charges a few years back. I’m guessing things have escalated?”

I open my mouth to ask, but he cuts me off.

“Background check, my friend. We don’t just look you up when you apply. Gotta research the whole family tree.”

Of course. I knew that, at least in theory. And here I’d thought I was hiding things so well. Turns out, I had no real reason to after all. Not from Tomas, anyway.

“Escalated is putting it lightly,” I say, clearing my throat. “In the past two weeks he’s been arrested for possession with intent to sell and then, after I posted bail, he was involved in a hit-and-run that left a woman and her son badly injured. Then he abandoned the vehicle—which was stolen, mind you—and caught a bus to Colorado. And not just anywhere in Colorado. My front fucking door.” I tick each offense off on my fingers, then gather them into a fist that I slam against the steering wheel with a dull thud.

Tomas’s jaw flexes, and his eyelids shutter briefly. I’ve seen the expression a thousand times. He’s working something out in his brain, and it’s best to just leave the man to it. Any attempt to hurry him along will only drag out the process further.

Finally he tilts his head toward me with an expression so morose I’m already bracing for the blow before he delivers it.

“I’ll admit I’m not super up-to-date on Mississippi-specific laws, but Kit, I don’t have to tell you this is bad. Really bad. We’re talking five to twenty years for the hit-and-run alone. That’s not even taking into consideration all the other shit you just listed.”

I swallow a lump that feels laced with needles. It scrapes my throat the entire way down. My nod turns into violent thrashing that only ends when I slam my head against the headrest and let out a frustrated sound that’s more akin to an animalistic howl of desperation.

“I am trying so hard, Tomas. I’m trying to do the right thing by my family and by Tess and now by the damn law, and I just feel like I’m failing everyone.”

The rain falls in earnest now, pouring in thick rivulets down my windshield. I stare at it to keep from falling completely apart. I’d give anything in the world to draw in the familiar smell of sugar and sunshine with my next breath. To look over and find a wide green gaze waiting for me without judgment, without expectation.

But all that awaits me in my passenger seat is Tomas, tawny skin pulled taut over a sympathetic frown. His firm grip encircles my bicep and squeezes. “Something tells me none of those people would want you feeling like this on their behalf, man.” He chuckles dryly. “Well, except maybe the law, because that’s one uncaring bastard. But your family… Tess…” He clicks his tongue, then leaves me to fill in the rest.

The thing is, I know he’s right. My parents have said as much. And Tess, having experienced what it is to feel like a burden on others for years, wanted me to see her as absolutely anything else. But it comes as natural to me as breathing, this need to care for everyone else. Like a function my body never had to be taught. Turn air into oxygen for my blood to keep on pumping. Take every problem and place it on my shoulders so that the ones I love can stand a little straighter while I bear the weight.

“What happens when we call?” I ask quietly. Even sayingwhen,notif,feels like a small step in the right direction. I swear I breathe easier once it’s out.

Tomas’s expression softens. “Depends on how they want to handle things. Usually we’d arrest and hold him, and they’d send their guys after an order for extradition has been approved.”

My lips form a grim line. I nod. “Can I please ask a favor?”

“Anything, Rookie.”

“I need to go home and make sure he stays put. If he even suspects I’ve ratted him out, there’s no telling where he’ll run. I’ve got to talk to my parents and let them know what’s happening. There’s a big difference between knowing what your kid has done, and facing the reality of the consequences of turning them in. I need to prepare them as best I can.” My gaze cuts to Tomas’s and I grimace. “When the time comes, I’ll be the one to bring him in. But Tomas, I think I need you to make the call.”

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