Page 21 of On the Line

I smile weakly. “Thanks, that’s … sweet,” I murmur softly.

Silence settles between us, the buzz of the freezer now loud in my ears as we continue staring at each other.

My heart rate spikes, the air around us thickening.

Until his phone rings, and I jump.

Ozzy’s serious gaze lingers until he finally clears his throat, fishing his phone out of his pocket. I can’t help noticing the name Sophia before he flips his screen over. An unwarranted zing pinches my chest. Must be the same girl I saw him with last night.

“I need to get this,” he says distractedly.

“Yeah, no worries,” I mutter.

He goes to walk out but pauses, saying over his shoulder, “Are you going to be okay?”

I try to keep my tone light. “Of course.” I smile meekly. “I just needed a moment.”

He returns my smile and nods. I watch him close the door behind him, while I stay standing in the middle of the walk-in freezer alone … wondering what the hell I’m doing with my life.

9

OZZY

“Everything okay?” I ask, the phone pressed to my ear while I exit the walk-in fridge.

There’s silence through the receiver until my sister sighs loudly and says, “Well…”

I spot Alec heading for the fridge. “Hold on, Soph.” I grab Alec’s shoulder while addressing him, “New girl’s in the walk-in, give her a sec.”

He gives me a loaded look but says nothing, simply giving me a small salute and walking away. I tuck my phone between my ear and shoulder while patting my chef jacket for my pack of smokes, my kitchen clogs squeaking on the freshly mopped floor. “Okay, I’m back,” I mumble around the unlit cigarette now between my lips, pushing the backdoor open. “What’s going on?”

She lets out another sigh before saying, “It’s Dad.” My heart squeezes painfully, knowing whatever she says next won’t be good. “He hasn’t been home since Monday morning.”

“Shit,” I curse under my breath while taking a long drag.I rub the back of my thumb on my forehead, doing a quick calculation. “Soph, that wasthree daysago, why didn’t you call me sooner?” I can feel all the muscles in my body seizing up with rage.

Fucking deadbeat piece of shit.

“I didn’t want to bother you … I know how busy you are.”

“Sophia.” I try to keep my voice calm. “I’m never too busy for you. We’ve talked about this.” My hand is shaking when I bring the cigarette up to my lips. She’s only fourteen, she shouldn’t have to take care of herself like this. “Where’s Hux?”

“I don’t know …” she says dejectedly. “He hasn’t really been around either.”

“Fuck!” I bite out, kicking the dumpster wondering where my teenage brother has disappeared to. Being seventeen, I depend on him being there when I can’t be.

“Don’t freak out,” she mumbles.

“So you’ve been taking care of Charlie by yourself this whole time?”

“Yeah,” she states.

She makes it sound so normal. As if growing up in such a dysfunctional family makes having our dad disappear on a three-day bender just a typical weekday for her.

I hate myself for leaving her there. I moved out when I was sixteen. Now I carry an insidious kind of survivor’s guilt that sinks deeper and deeper into my skin the longer I leave my siblings back home with our piss-poor excuse for a dad.

I blame myself for how Hux is turning out, constantly worried he’ll end up following in our mother’s footsteps and land himself in prison. She was convicted five years ago for drug possession with intent to sell. We don’t bother visitingher much. Just like she didn’t bother with us much when she was out.

My vision is blurring, my chest tightening, the anger burning a hole in my stomach. But there’s also debilitating fear attached to the rage—the panic of knowing Sophia has been alone with our eight-year-old brother Charlie for this long.

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