Page 108 of Catch the Sun

“You’re an asshole.”

“I’mthe asshole?” I counter. “Christ, McKay. I’ve doneeverythingfor you. Cooking, laundry, taking on the role as Dad’s caregiver while you drink with your buddies, play basketball, date, live, and enjoy your youth. I finally have something worth living for now and I…” I let my voice trail off, regretting the words instantly.

His eyebrows rise with distinct hurt. Silence festers between us, only compromised by the echo of my careless words. McKay looks down at his feet, his expression wilting. Muscles locking. “Something worth living for, huh?”

I blink, shaking my head. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You did.”

“No…no, I just meant that I finally have something forme.” I slam a palm to my chest. “I deserve that. I’ve earned that.”

“Right.” The fight leaves him as he takes a step back and glances down the hallway to where the noise has since quieted. “I need to clear my head.”

“McKay—”

“Don’t follow me,” he says, spinning on his heel. “You’re right, Max—you deserve a life free of your useless tagalong brother. Doesn’t matter the pact we made when we were kids. It doesn’t matter that I’ve spent years distracting myself with pointless bullshit, begging for time to speed up so we could finally get out of this town together and chase the dream you promised me.”

My lips part but no words fall out.

Tears blur my vision.

I think back to summers at the lake when we’d dunk underneath the water and stare at each other through the wall of murk and gray. A future unfolded there, a future for both of us. Somewhere far away from here, the two of us traveling the world, sightseeing and leaving it all behind for good.

I promised him that.

“You and me, McKay,” I said to him as we dried out by the embankment’s edge,staring up at the clouds. “One day, it’ll just be you and me.”

Guilt gnaws at me, mingling with bitterness and bone-splintering sadness. We were just kids then. I didn’t think he’d be hanging on to those innocent words through adulthood, waiting for me to pack my bags and haul him away from here.

I don’t know what to say. I realize now that words have weight. Words have consequences, a power to root themselves deep within a person, shaping futures, and disassembling even the most resilient bonds. Words are never innocent. They’re either weapons or remedies. Like seeds, they grow and expand, becoming skyscraping trees or invasive weeds.

McKay stumbles into his shoes and searches for the keys to the truck. “Happy New Year,” he mumbles, headed for the front door.

“McKay, wait. You can’t drive.”

“Try and stop me.”

“I’m sorry. Please, let’s talk about this and—”

The door slams shut and everything goes silent. I glance around the chaotic house, my emotions in my throat, my heart still pounding. I think about Ella getting ready with Brynn, excited to ring in the new year with me, eager for an easy, romantic night watching fireworks paint the lake in every color.

I rub my face with both hands, then loosen my tie. Stomping toward the bathroom, I pull a pill bottle out of the medicine cabinet, sprinkle two tabletsin my palm, and fill a paper cup with water.

Dad is belly-flopped on the mattress when I enter his bedroom. “Dad,” I call out. “Take these to help you sleep.”

“Mmmph,” he says.

“Please.”

I wonder if he hears how much pain laces that single syllable. He lifts up slightly, twisting his head toward me on the pillow. “Maxwell,” is his groggy greeting.

“I’m taking you to the doctor tomorrow, first thing in the morning. You’re not well.”

He slow-blinks in my direction as I set the pills and water on his bedside table. My father reaches for the items with a quivering hand and swallows down the sleeping pills. “I’m fine, Son. I just need to rest.” He chugs the water and collapses back to the mattress with a tired sigh. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Yeah.” My jaw is tight, my fight weak. “Happy New Year.”

“Hmm,” he mumbles, his eyes closing. “Give your girl a kiss at midnight.”

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