Page 85 of Second Story

“I’ll leave when you do.”

I should get busy then. Should make the most of this final countdown while I still can.

I can’t move.

Can’t get this day started.

My motor’s well and truly stalled, and right now, I’m not even sure my dad could fix it. Only a mother admitting she was mistaken will do that, and her son’s hollow eyes suggest he knows that won’t happen.

Isaac must notice that I’ve run out of options, and perhaps this is what twelve months of caretaking taught him—he gets busy doing it for me.

On any other day, I’d love him taking over by running the shower and not letting me under steamy water until he’s sure it won’t scald me. I can’t relax while there’s a wasp in the periphery of my vision. Not for real. Nothing buzzes in this bathroom we share for what might be a first and last time. I still feel a sting when Isaac soaps me.

I swallow down everything I said already. If he listened to my messages, he knows what I couldn’t hold in—alove youI’d repeat if I thought hearing it would help. And he knows I’m as sure as I can be that my brother played no part in Isaac needing to make up stories and draw a map to lead a little kid to prison. I’m also pretty sure he knows that I can iron my own shirt, but that’s what he does for me while his hair drips and a towel around his hips clings damply.

I can’t keep my distance.

I wrap my arms around him from behind and hold him close as steam hisses. The air fills with the scent of our shared shampoo and heated cotton as I kiss his still wet shoulder. Soft lips meet mine when he cranes his neck, and if my shirt gets scorched by the iron Isaac abandons to turn to kiss me, it doesn’t matter. I’ve worked with worse marks on my shirtfront.

What I don’t have is more time, now that I need to go meet the kid who caused the last one. We still kiss, chest-to-chest for what feels like a last time, as sirens scream below my window.

More sirens pass when we leave my flat. They follow us to my Tube stop. All too soon, a different alarm sounds at the entrance to the Underground station where we’ll finally part ways. This one is internal.

Don’t let him go.

Isaac backs off, and I should do the same. I’m stopped by the sight of him with Wintergreen as a brutal backdrop. That concrete jungle only showcases gentleness more suited to Cornwall. Not that anyone would know at first glance when his chin lifts to tell the world nothing scares him. I see his real truth when I call out, “I’ll be there waiting.”

His eyes sheen until he blinks fast a few times.

I can’t put off mentioning this for any longer. “And I’ll bring Josh.”

If Isaac nods, I don’t see it while commuters divide us. They part again to show him about to fall on a sword to set me free from having to make a no-win decision. “Don’t, Joe. Don’t even ask if he was there when Mum was arrested. Walk away if that would only fuck you two up forever.”

He adds more distance between us, and the scared kid waiting for me outside a court building means I should add some distance of my own.

I can’t.

Neither can Isaac, who comes back so I get to hear him loud and clear.

“Love you so fucking much. Did before. Still do.” He steps closer. “And I love you for wanting to fix this. But you can stop.”

I couldn’t say which of us holds the other the tightest or cares that we’re in the path of commuters. I hold on because I know what someone throwing a fight sounds like. Did it myself plenty when I couldn’t bear to take a swing at my brother.

I won’t let Isaac do the same for me now.

I can’t.

That only leaves one option.

If it means I get to keep him, I won’t only ask Josh about his involvement, I’ll fight to get the whole truth from him.

I’d makea start on that right away if a teen about to throw hands didn’t demand my attention. I spot Kwasi’s balled fists, and it isn’t even nine yet, but he’s found the worst person in the world to spar with outside a courthouse.

Josh.

I dodge city traffic then to fling myself between them.

“Hey, hey. Hold it. What’s going on?”

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