Page 79 of Wish Lists and Road Trips

“I was rushing.”

I squeezed the back of my neck. A year’s worth of work and it was all going to fall through because he’d forgotten a basic step. I’d been walking him through the package remotely for days. And where the hell was everyone else? For all of the assurances that things wouldn’t fall apart while I was gone on this trip, it sure seemed like they had. How could he—

Oh.I sank down onto the sink. “You had something come up?” I asked. That was how he liked to refer to it when my mom got balls-out drunk and one of us needed to drop what we were doing and deal with it. Leaving Little League games early when I was a kid, work meetings when we were older, our aunt Janey coming over when Dad was working late, feeding Alex and me while Mom went upstairs to lie down. It was a secret code known only to the Callaways.

“Wednesday,” he said. “Emily called me.” Emily had been my dad’s assistant since before we were born. She knew the drill. “Your mom came down to the office. I brought her home and I guess my mind just wasn’t right.”

Wednesday. Two days ago. I’d been at a bar doing shots with Brit.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“What could you have done, Nicky?”

Fuck, I don’t know. Something?I could have talked to her on the phone, maybe. Called Tom or Drew. Remembered for him. I’d been doing it my whole life. I’d been doing everything for everyone my whole damn life.

I leaned against the mirror and rubbed my chest as a memory from when I was a kid reached up from beyond and clawed at me. Alex was home recovering from a stint in the hospital, and Willow was over. The two of them started dating when they were thirteen, so she was already family.

I had plans to go to the movies with friends and I was primping in the mirror. Alex was pale and skinny from the last surgery, and Willow was in a pair ofLittle Mermaidpajamas, but the two of them still heckled me while they held hands on the couch. I popped a baseball cap on my head and gave Alex the finger, then we heard glass breaking from the kitchen and my father’s muffled voice.

I rounded the corner in time to see my mother on her hands and knees, cleaning up a broken wine glass. I’d gotten used to this scene, but I was getting old enough to have an attitude about it. It’s funny how much anger can build in that time between blindly wanting to please your parents, and finally understanding them as fallible human beings who didn’t have a clue what they were doing.

I tried to bolt out the door, make it to my car before my dad saw me and peel out of the driveway like a getaway driver, but he grabbed my elbow and yanked me into the room.

“Take your mother outside, Nicky. I don’t want Alex to see her like this.”

I’d been working construction all summer with my uncles. I had fifty dollars and the keys to my first car in my pocket. All of my friends were going to be there.

And why the hell didn’t it matter ifIsaw her like that?

“I’m supposed to be at Ben’s house in ten minutes,” I’d said, my voice as firm as adolescence allowed.

It was no match for a man trying to keep his family together, but I didn’t know that until later. He looked at me like I was trying to serve him a spoiled piece of meat. “Tell them something came up!”

And that was how we got in this situation, me as my mom’s therapist, my dad’s cleanup crew no matter what I had to give up to do it. Now, I was the only one who had anything left to give.

I nudged the door open with my elbow and looked at Brit lying asleep on the bed, a hint of a smile on her face from whatever she was dreaming. My heart squeezed around a thousand knives.

I was going to have to break out of this little fantasy world and go home and fix things, but I didn’t want to. I’d given enough, goddamn it. That was what Alex was trying to teach me, but because he wasn’t here anymore, I had to come up with the how of it by myself and I was at a loss.

“I’ll handle it, Dad.” I didn’t have a clue how, but I would take it off of his plate at the very least. Let him think I had it under control. “Send me everyone’s contacts tonight and . . .” The words caught in my throat, holding on for dear life, but I forced them out. “I’ll be home tomorrow.”

I heard him cough to cover up a sniffle and I nearly lost it. I had to press the heel of my hand to my eyes.

“You’re a good man, Nick. I’ve always been so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

If only being a good man ever got me what I wanted instead of what I deserved.

I woke to a slice of bright winter sun across my face, feeling groggy and disoriented. I’d slept in so many beds over the last week, that it took me a moment to remember where this one was. The scent of Nick on my skin reminded me, and I smiled, rolling over to reach for him, but instead, I found a cold, empty spot on the mattress where he was supposed to be. I frowned, stretching to see the clock. It was barely seven.

The last thing I remembered from last night was being so thoroughly destroyed by my last orgasm that I’d lost the ability to form complete sentences. I’d mumbled something about seeing Nick in the morning, then passed out like a freshman at a keg party. But here I wasnotseeing him in the morning and a prickle on the back of my neck told me that something was wrong.

I sat up and found him at the desk by the window, hunched over his phone. He was in just his boxers and the snow-covered scenery behind him made me want to wrap him in a blanket. Those hands that had been everywhere on my body last night were typing furiously, and stress was etched all over his beautiful face.

“What’s the matter?”

His eyes snapped to mine like I’d startled him, like he’d forgotten I was there, but then the corners crinkled affectionately. “Morning.”

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