Page 75 of Anti Player

“Nothing important,” he replies.

I thank Kaleb and leave with my brother. In the car ride over to the airport Brett calls some local rehabs in Michigan.

“I can’t believe I’m going to have to pay for that fucker to get sober again,” he complains.

“You don’t have to,” I remind him.

“You heard what Mom said. He’s our father. No matter how shitty he’s been, he needs help. I have the ability to help, but I don’t have to like it,” Brett says.

“I don’t like it either,” I agree with Brett.

The rest of the ride is silent. We make it to the airport and I head inside with Brett. There’s a flight that leaves in an hour.

As I wait with Brett in the airport, a feeling of overall heaviness fills my chest.

Brett heads toward security and I follow.

“This sucks,” I say to him.

“It sucks fucking balls. I keep thinking we should abandon him like he abandoned us,” Brett seethes.

“Only we are better than him,” I remind my brother.

“We are,” he agrees.

“Call me if you need anything,” I say to him.

“You too,” he says.

We part ways and I head back out to my van. The rush of adrenaline I was experiencing leaves my body. I feel tired and sick to my stomach.

It’s been five years since we last heard from Dad. Five years. A part of me thought maybe he was dead.

When I get back to the apartment, Kaleb is there with Asher. Asher tells me they went for amazing ice cream and then they walked around for a bit.

“Thanks, Kaleb,” I say to him.

He watches me carefully and I yawn. Asher yawns too.

“We better get you to bed,” I say to my son.

“Go ahead and do what you need. I’ll watch some television,” Kaleb says and that’s when it hits me. My brother isn’t here to chaperone us.

I go to help Asher with his shower and tuck him into bed. His eyes are lulling shut before he even says good night. I decide to shower too because after a long-ass day at work and all the tension after it I need a scalding hot shower.

I wash my hair and shave my legs. Even though Kaleb said he wanted this sordid affair to continue when he had stomach flu, it’s been impossible with my work schedule and my brother always around.

After my shower, I slip into some comfortable pajamas of light heather-gray waffle shorts and a matching tank top sans bra.

When I head back into the main room, Kaleb is watching a movie but he shifts himself so he is upright when he sees me. His dark eyes smolder as he checks me out from top to bottom.

“You should put some more fabric on yourself if you expect me to keep my hands to myself,” he warns.

“Maybe I want those hands on me,” I taunt, taking the bait.

He lets out a low feral growl. “Don’t tempt me if you can’t follow through.”

“Oh, I plan on following through. I need to erase all this tension inside me.”

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