Page 2 of My Brother's Bad Best Friend

I’m too surprised to respond. I just keep chewing as he looks at me again.

“He can handle it, okay? Whatever it is. Your stepdad’s a fucking asshole, but your brother’s a good guy. Don’t forget it.”

I finally finish chewing and swallow. “I know,” I say.

“Good.” He nods once. He’s twenty years old, but to me, he’s ageless. Timeless. For a while, this is how I think about Jonas, even if I see him around every so often.

I think about him in my kitchen, trying to console me and doing a shitty job, but trying anyway.

He stands up straight and looks past me. I turn around in my seat as Ezra walks toward us, his face clouded by anger, his eye swollen and angry-red.

“He hit you?” Jonas asks, sounding almost bored.

“Yep.” Ezra hefts a bag onto the island. “We’re going.”

“Yeah,” Jonas grunts.

“Wait a second.” I stand up as Jonas comes around the island and joins Ezra. The two guys start walking toward the front door. Jonas takes Ezra’s bag almost as an afterthought, something else I can’t stop thinking about. Why take his bag, why carry it for him?

Maybe he just wanted to share the weight.

Jonas pushes open the door and steps outside as Ezra turns to me. He forces a smile, pushes past the anger and pain.

“I’ll be okay, Lizzie,” he says. “Tell mom I’m not coming back this time.” He hesitates a second, eyes looking past me toward the stairs where I know our stepfather is standing and watching this. Ezra looks back at me and lowers his voice. “If he hits you, tell me and I’ll come get you. Okay?”

“Okay,” I say.

He steps closer. “Don’t let him touch you, Lizzie.” His voice is low and harsh.

“I won’t.”

He nods and pulls me in for a one-armed awkward hug. We don’t hug, we never hug. He treats me like an annoying puppy most of the time, but for the first time in my life, I think he can actually see me.

The moment is ruined when Royal’s harsh voice cuts across the room. “You’re done, Ezra. You’re out of here.”

“I know,” Ezra says, and leaves our house forever.

I catch one more glimpse of Jonas. He hefts Ezra’s bag into the back of his old, beat-up Jeep. He glances back at me and nods, one eye gleaming through his shaggy brown hair.

They climb into the car and drive off as Royal tells me to get the fuck back inside or I’m next.

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