Page 70 of Not Made to Last

The car door opens, and I slow my steps but don’t stop completely. “Get in the car, Olivia,” she repeats, her tone laced with pity.

I stop then. Face her head on. “I told you already. Wecan’t,” I repeat, jaw locked, teeth clenched. The rain falls on my eyelids until they become so heavy, I’m forced to blink them away.

“Why not?” she asks, getting out of the car. “I promise, I won’t hurt you.”

“Becausehe—” I say, pointing at Max, “has been in horrible car accidents that have killed people. People really fucking important to us. So now he has PTSD, and he won’t get in a moving car unless his brother’s sitting in the back with him. And that can’t happen right now because his brother’s at school, and so that’s why I was late! And that’s why I’m standing herein the pouring rain with a boy I barely know, trying to find a way to make money so we can survive, because you know what? Everyone else who’s supposed to be doing this shit is dead or chose to abandon me. Again!” I break down. In front of my new brother and a complete stranger, and Ishatter. Right there, in front of their eyes. “I’m barely sixteen, and suddenly, I have to be the one to pick up the pieces because no one else will! No one else?—”

I stop there, my words caught in my throat as she pulls me into her arms, holds me until her warmth replaces the frigidness of our surroundings, of my life. She strokes my back, soothing my pain, and before I’m ready, she releases me and goes to Max. She drops to her knees, right in the middle of a puddle, her bare knees exposed by her pencil skirt—and looks Max right in the eyes. “What if we just sit in the car?” she asks him. “We won’t drive. We’ll just sit. All three of us in the back.”

Max looks at me, then at her. And then he nods.

We settle into the back of the SUV, the hazard lights on, with the warmth of the heater blowing directly on us. Max sits across my lap, his head on my shoulder, and he wasn’t lying before when he said he was tired. He’s struggling to keep his eyes open now, and I should’ve listened to him. “I’m sorry,” I tell him, holding him close. I stroke his hair, keep my sob contained when he stutters a breath. “I’m sorry.” Then I face the woman beside me, and for the third time in the space of minutes, I say, “I’m sorry.”

She’s in a skirt and a sleeveless blouse, and she sits in that way posh people do—crossed at the ankles and knees to the side. I don’t think I’ve ever been in the presence of someone so… together. “Sorry for what?”

“For leaving the way I did. I figured I wasn’t getting the job after the way I…am.” I don’t saythe way I behaved,because that implies I can somewhat control myself. Right now,I can’t. I don’t. I just…am. “And I’m sorry for my outburst before. For yelling at you like you were the one who killed my grandparents.”

She smiles, made of nothing but pity, and motions to Max, now asleep on my lap. “He’s out like a light.”

“Yeah,” I say through a sigh. “He’ll be out for a while.”

“Can we drive you home if he’s sleeping?”

“Yeah.” I return her smile, grateful. “I’d really appreciate it.”

I give the driver my address, and within minutes, we’re pulling up to my house. “Thank you for the ride,” I say and start to get out, but she stops me with a hand on my arm.

“Olivia.”

I turn to her. “Yes?”

“I want to help you.”

“With a job?” I ask, eyebrows drawn.

“With a job, with your family, your house, your education, anything you need.”

My shoulders drop, and I bite back a scoff. “And what do you get in return? Mysoul?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “Hopefully, I get my son back.”

I turn my entire body to hers, my back against the door with Max still on my lap. There are as many questions floating through my mind as there are red flags, but the only thing that comes out of my mouth is: “You never told me your name.”

“It’s Skylar,” she tells me. “Skylar Garrett.”

PART IV

38

Olivia

Three Years Earlier

Picture book held to my chest, I roll my head to the side and ignore the dampness of my tears staining the pillow. Max lies beside me, his eyes closed, breaths even, in a state of peacefulness I haven’t felt since my grandparents died.

It’s only been a few months, but God… the days seem like forever when you feel like you’re drowning.

Max stirs and shifts onto his back, releasing a sigh. He fell asleep twenty minutes ago, but I haven’t been able to move—too paralyzed by my thoughts, by my fears.

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