I snorted. “I’m not afraid to be with someone. It isn’t the right time. I have football, classes, and you.”
“You don’t need to take care of me. I’m gonna get a job, plus Dad sent me money.”
I stared ahead, unsure how to feel about that. Objectively, it was nice that he was helping her, but I also knew my sister. She’d very likely wait until the money ran out to actively look for a job. I wanted her to learn how to work and be responsible. It wasn’t something she’d ever done before. My dad didn’t set rules or expectations for her because he was a waste of space who was afraid to upset her, as if what she’d gone through meant he wasn’t allowed to be a parental figure.
“The point,” she went on, “is that you don’t get to use me as an excuse to push him away. I don’t want you keeping an eye on me all the time. We’re not kids anymore. I’m gonna get a job, I’m gonna make my own friends, and we’re both gonna be goddamn happy because we deserve it.”
Even though I laughed, I didn’t feel amused. Sensing my mood, she pulled me off to the side. I took a deep breath as I lifted her chin.
“You know I can’t just stop worrying about you. I couldn’t…” Closing my eyes, I steadied myself, then opened them again. “I couldn’t protect you then. Don’t ask me to stop trying now.”
She took my wrist and pulled my hand away, keeping hold of it. “You were the same age as me. You didn’t know what was happening.”
“I should have.”
“No,” she replied firmly. “You shouldn’t have. No eight-year-old should understand that. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t even Dad’s fault. You know that the shitty things he said to you aren’t true, but you still let them infect your mind.”
With a groan, I pulled her back onto the path. “I’ll think about what you said, but no promises. I don’t even know if I like him like that.”
I could feel her stare, but I ignored it. There was no need for more Socrates moments. Just the seriousness of the past ten minutes was enough to make me want to tell a dumb joke or something.
“Wait,” I said. “How’d you know about the date?”
“Because we text.”
“Oh, so you’re an informant. Good to know. I’ll have to make sure to keep everything to myself from now on.”
****
I made a disgruntled sound as I stepped over a corpse in the kitchen. Whatever Linc did failed to keep them out, but it was poisoning them. I saw more dead than alive, so the cockroach plague was effective enough for now.
Deciding I’d pick it up later, I made myself a cup of coffee and retreated to the patio. The concrete was cold on my bare feet and I curled my toes inward instinctively. After I clicked on the contact I needed in my phone, I drained half my mug, then pressed ‘call.’
“Four times in a month,” my dad said. “Let me guess. You need more money.”
His words hurt more than they should have. Willow was right yesterday. I knew that none of it was my fault, but I still let it affect me. Even just hearing my dad’s voice made me go on the defensive.
“No,” I replied casually. “I’m actually calling about Willow.”
“What happened?” His voice took on a concerned quality that would never be directed toward me.
“Nothing happened-”
“What the hell did you do? I told you that you couldn’t protect her. I fucking told you.”
Slumping against the wall, I blinked away the burn in my eyes. “Stop. Please just stop.”
“I’m buying her a plane ticket. She never should’ve gone out there with you. I knew it was a bad idea.”
“Stop!” I shouted. “Nothing’s wrong with Willow. I’m calling to talk to you about her, not report a tragedy.”
“Then talk, but make it quick. I have work to do.”
“You sent her money.”
“And?”
“How much?”