Page 11 of Stupid Dirty

“What the hell are you doing out here, anyway?”

“Nothing.” He doesn’t look me in the eye, staring at the edge of the quarry instead and making some hand-wavey motion that I don’t understand. “Everyone was staring. Their faces were too loud. I wanted to be by myself.”

His words come out with the loose slur of the truly hammered, and his normally sharp movements have become sludgy. Who even let him leave the house alone when he’s this drunk?

“There are plenty of places to be alone that don’t involve a rock face. If you fall down there, you’re not coming back up, you feel me? Not to mention how many snakes your drunk ass could have tripped on in the dark.”

No response. He’s still staring straight ahead like the secrets of the universe are about to crawl out of that quarry and land in his lap. The silence is so thick it feels like a living thing, sitting between us.

“Did you hear they suspended my AML license, Cade? Do people know that’s why I’m back?”

That’s a sharp segue, but he’s clearly pretty faded, so I’ll roll with it.

“No, I didn’t know that,” I say. Silas runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the short strands like he’s frustrated, but doesn’t respond. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Another dismissive hand wave. The rest of his words come out in a crashing wave, tumbling over each other so quickly I have to concentrate to make sense of it.

“Doesn’t matter. Pending investigation. Whatever. But I came out here, and I was thinking that maybe this is my life now. Forever, if they suspend me for good. I can spend the rest of my life being awkward and friendless at terrifying parties. Or I can end up like my mom.”

He shrugs, and his face is completely blank.

A pang of concern hits me, but he keeps talking.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s fine. Dad’ll tell me what to do next, unless he leaves me for good. All he ever let me do was ride, so who the fuck knows what he’s gonna let me do now? I have nothing left to pay him back with. But the water was pretty, and looking at it made me feel better.”

Pulling his knees into his chest, Silas wraps his arms around them like a little kid, folding his big, powerful body up until it seems small and fragile and then burying his face in his arms. The sight is making something in my gut twist. The resentment I felt towards him before is receding as the piteous sight of him trips the switch in my brain that puts me into caretaker mode.

I don’t want to feel responsible for Silas’ safety. I want to keep sulking about the race and being pissed at him. But it looks like it’s a little late for that. Duct-taping broken people back together is all I do, really.

If his career really is falling apart, then getting shit-canned and wandering around feeling sorry for himself is understandable. But there’s something about the words he’ssaying and the set of his shoulders that’s making me nervous. He doesn’t seem upset about it so much as…resigned. I wish he’d look at me, so I could get a better read on him, but he’s still doggedly staring at the stupid quarry.

I’ve spent a lifetime watching people tear themselves apart. There’s a fine line between being reckless and self-destructive—something I’m guilty of from time to time—and feeling so much like your life is already over that the basic concept of your safety doesn’t even exist.

I need to figure out which side of the line Silas is on, because right now, he’s setting off every internal alarm bell I have. All my anger from earlier seems petty in the face of this black hole of human misery. The only thing I care about right now is figuring out how much danger Silas is actually in.

“Cade?”

“Mhmm?” I stay still and quiet, letting him come to me. A long time passes before he turns his head. It’s still nestled in the crook of his arms, but now he’s facing me, looking me in the eye for the first time since we started this conversation.

“Have you ever wondered what it would feel like to fly?”

And that’s it. Five-alarm-fire bells are ringing in my chest and I’m practically vibrating with the need to get him inside and the fuck away from this drop.

I shove that feeling down and force a smile onto my face. The calm, EMT smile that tells people they can trust me, and everything is going to be okay.

“Silas, do you wanna see who’s better at Mario Kart?”

He snorts and pulls a face so derisive I’d laugh, if I weren’t caught up in the thousand other things I’m thinking right now, one of which isFuck, has he ever played a video game?

“Come on, let’s go inside.”

Pushing myself to my feet, I stay close enough to him that I can help him stand up as well, because the boy is swaying worsethan before, if that’s possible. I think the booze he was chugging finally hit him. The walk back to the house takes forever, because he’s tripping over his own feet like a big, drunk puppy, but at least he lets me keep an arm around his waist to steady him.

He doesn’t just let me, actually. He leans into me, all warm and bulky, hanging off my side like I’m his tether to something. He smells like motor oil and cheap whiskey. Guilt at how I lost my temper at him is already working its way through my limbs like cold sand, weighing me down.

The noise of the party tells me we’re almost at the house when Silas stops, turning to look at me.

“Why are you helping me? You hate me.” He looks dumbfounded, swaying forward a little until his face is only an inch or two away from mine. The drunken honesty makes me smile, despite everything.

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