Page 34 of Last Boy

So, instead, I nod into my empty room. “I’ll let you know. She’s, uh…well, she’s going through it right now. And she’s going to need her friends.” I swallow. “All of you need to be there for her, okay?”

“What happened?” she whispers, her voice breaking.

“I can’t tell you. That’s up to her. For now, just be her friend. She deserves that.”

“I will,” she answers softly. “I promise.”

Ending the call, I quickly throw my shirt.

She might want to run away from me, but I need to find her.

Poppy

I sit with my brother on the couch as we hold on to each other. The whole bus ride here, my stomach hurt so bad that I felt like I could throw up because I knew that this was going to break him.

Jake cries, and I hug him.

“It sucks.” I sniffle. “I miss him already.”

Telling him was the hardest thing I’d done in my entire life. Jake understands that Van had demons, like our father had. But he still loved Van and talked about him all the time.

“He didn’t get to see my new home,” he utters. “I think he would have liked it.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I nod slowly. “He would have loved this place, J,” I whisper.

It really is just him and me now. And I will do everything I can to make sure he knows I’ll always be here for him. That, unlike our mother, father, and now brother…he can count on me to never leave.

Thinking of my father reminds me that I still have to call the prison.

Great.

Standing outside of Jake’s apartment by myself, I pull out my phone and dial the prison. Once a lady with a thick Southern accent answers, I suck in a breath through my nose and let it out of my mouth.

“Hi, this is Poppy Wilson. My father, Ronald Wilson, is an inmate there.”

“Okay? Well, I can’t connect you. It’s not his day to make phone calls—”

“I don’t want to talk to him. I just have a message for someone to pass along.” I swallow, trying to ease the burning in my throat. “His son Van died yesterday. I just thought he should probably be told.”

“Oh,” she says, pausing. “I’m so—”

“Thank you for passing on the message,” I mutter and end the call.

My duty as Van’s sister is done. Our dad—who is the very definition of the scum of the earth in my eyes, but a hero in Van’s—has been notified.

Another thing off my list of awful, emotional shit I have to do today.

Next up…write an obituary for a kid this town has grown to hate.

A loud exhaust startles me, and I look up to find Walker’s truck pulling into the parking lot of the apartment building.

“Damn it,” I mutter.

I knew there was a chance he’d come find me today. But I didn’t think he’d know I was here. Yet here he is, proving me wrong.

Slowly, he gets out of the truck and closes the door. His gray sweatpants immediately make my mouth water, so I look away.

“Thought I might find you here,” he drawls softly.

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