Page 88 of Truck Off

“I can see how that would bother you,” he says.

“It’s frustrating as fuck,” I say. “I don’t know what to do to convince her that I want to help because I care. But she keeps fighting me on it like she thinks I’m full of shit.”

“Chase, you know better than anyone that you can’t force your help onto someone. It’s not your job to fix everyone’s problems. I’ve watched you practically kill yourself cleaning up your mom’s shit to protect Christian. Don’t think for a second that I’m going to sit back and watch you do the same thing with Lina.”

“Lina’s different. You can’t compare me helping her to saving my brother’s life. Those two examples aren’t even in the same playing field.”

“I get that, but you can’t take on everyone’s problems as your own. Especially if they don’t want your help.”

“But Lina needs my help. And I do think she really wants it. She just doesn’t know how to let me take on some of her burdens. If I give up on helping her, then I give up on her. And I can’t do that.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that. But what about your mom? When was the last time you cleaned up her shit?”

I groan, not wanting to answer that question.

“Chase!” Somehow, he manages to chastise me with just my name.

“I know!” I scrub my hands down my face. “But I can’t help it. She’s a complete mess. If she keeps this up, she’s going to kill herself. I can’t let Christian find her like that. It’ll kill him. And if that happens, I won’t survive.”

“None of us would, man. But at some point, you’re going to have to trust Christian. We all are. He’s a big boy, and he’s been clean for a few years now. I know it’s hard, believe me, but you have to learn to trust that. Trust him. You can’t protect him forever.”

“But I want to. He’s my brother. My twin. My other half.”

“I get it, but Christian is doing good. Besides, I’m keeping an eye on him. If anything seems off, you’ll be the first to know. I promise. You need to put yourself first for a change.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Hell, man. I’ve never done that before.”

He shrugs and shakes his head. “Neither have I, but that doesn’t mean it’s not good advice. One day I’ve no doubt I’m gonna need one of my brothers telling me the same shit. So learn now so you can teach me later.”

I squeeze Liam’s shoulders. “Why not start learning now? We don’t need you taking care of us anymore.”

He raises a questioning brow as he looks around at the mess I’ve made of my usually well-organized barn. “You sure about that?”

I laugh and it feels real and good. It’s also something I needed.

By the time I finish cleaning up the mess I made of the barn, it’s late afternoon and my stomach is growling like an angry bear.

My brother’s visit didn’t exactly make me feel better. If anything, he made me realize I’m more screwed than I thought. I’m not going to be able to stop myself from helping Lina. It’s who I am. And if she fights me every step of the way, I don’t know where that leaves us.

When I step inside my apartment, my mood is worse. I don’t even know how that’s possible. Maybe I’ll feel better once I eat.

I’m also in desperate need of a shower. After cleaning up after the animals and stirring up all the dust in the barn, I’m covered in dirt and grime. I rip my shirt over my head and use it to wipe the worst of the filth off my arms and face. It doesn’t do much. Only hot water and soap will get me clean.

But then my stomach growls again, reminding me how long it’s been since I’ve eaten. I never go this long without food, and if I don’t eat something soon, I’ll regret it later when I’m feeling weak and fighting off a headache.

Food first. Shower second.

Opening the fridge, I find a few containers of leftovers that weren’t there before. I shake my head and grumble, knowing one of my family members snuck into my apartment and put them here. I don’t mind the food, but I don’t like them coming in as they please.

“I knew leaving a key with Grams was a bad idea,” I mumble as I pop the top of what looks like meatloaf and mashed potatoes.

Shoving it in the microwave, I heat it up before I take it to the small balcony that overlooks the farm. It’s a hot June day, and there’s not much wind to speak of, but I feel too dirty to sit inside.

I’m so hungry that I scarf down half of it without tasting a bite. Just as I take the first bite I actually taste, there’s a knock at my front door. It’s light, almost timid, which is a clear indication it’s not one of my brothers. Then again, if it were, they’d probably use the damn key.

There’s a second knock before I have time to stand—this one louder than the first.

“Coming!” I call out after dropping my lunch off on the kitchen counter.

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