Page 160 of Cashmere Ruin

I don’t care how many advantages there are—I’m not going back to that. I’m not going back to a life of emptiness and misery. I’ve been in my own company long enough. Back then, I thought it meant strength: being alone.

But it doesn’t. It just means loneliness.

And I’ve never been stronger than now that I have a family to protect.

I fucked things up with them. I know I did. And now, I have to make it right. So I take a breath and force myself to knock.

At first, I don’t hear anything.Maybe they aren’t home.

Then the shouting begins. “GET THE DOOR!”

“I’M ON CRUTCHES! YOU GET IT!”

“WELL, I’M COOKINGYOURLUNCH, YOU UNGRATEFUL FREELOADER!”

“Stop yelling! I’ll do it!” comes a younger voice from the bottom of the trailer. Seconds later, the door cracks open. “Yes…?” The second he sees me, his eyes go wide. “Matvey.”

“Charlie,” I whisper back. “I was hoping I could talk to you for a second. In private.”

Hesitation flashes across his face. I can’t blame him—he’s got every right to be afraid. Last time we saw each other, I was a beast. I lost sight of myself and everyone around me. Why should he trust me now?

From inside, Tom bellows, “WHO IS IT, BRAT?”

“IF IT’S THE LANDLORD, TELL HIM WE’LL PAY AS SOON AS HE FIXES THE WATER HEATER!” Eleanor adds.

“STARTING NEXT MONTH, THOUGH!”

“It’s not the landlord!” Charlie shouts back. “It’s just…” He pauses, uncertain. “Girl Scouts.”

“TELL THEM WE DON’T WANT THEIR SHITTY COOKIES!” Eleanor screeches.

“OHH, GET ME NOUGAT!” Tom chimes in.

“NOT WITH MY MONEY, YOU DON’T!”

“AND TWO BOXES OF CARAMEL!”

“Okay! I’ll just be a minute!” He shuts the door behind his back and sighs. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” I nod towards the trailer. “Are they always like this?”

“No. Usually, they’re worse.” A weak laugh. “So, what did you…?”

“Right.” God, this is awkward. “Is there anywhere we could…?”

At first, Charlie hesitates. Just for a second, but there’s no way I’d miss it. That’s my fault, too: that single heartbeat of fear. I despise myself for putting it there.

“I know a place,” he says eventually. “Follow me.”

Behind the trailer park, there’s an actual park. It’s a small, jungle-looking thing that doesn’t show up on any map, probably because no one’s taken care of it since the war ended. TheCivilWar.

“Here,” Charlie says, hopping up a moss-covered garden wall to sit. “No one will hear us.”

I remain standing. “Good.”

Then I don’t say anything else.

Charlie peers up at me, uncertain. He has the same nervous habit April has: wringing his hands when uncomfortable. Silence, it seems, has a way of making both siblings uneasy.

---