Page 6 of Sorrow

I’ve never had faith in anyone, at least not that I can remember. So him sitting here asking me to trust him not to get killed when he’s all I have left is... almost as cruel as his friend.

“Why can’t we just move? Go to Saint City, or somewhere else that isn’t here. Somewhere I can get a job that doesn’t involve taking my clothes off. Somewhere you can do a safer job. Somewhere we can start over.”

It’s his turn to look at me with pity.

“It doesn’t work like that, Sam. This house is ours, this land is ours. It may not be much, but leaving is harder than it sounds. We grew up here. Our parents are buried here, our pets, too. Our friends are here. Even if we had the means to move, I don’t think I’d want to. Can we be done now?”

So he lives here and he’ll die here, too. I can’t imagine anything I’d want less.

“Sure. Do you want dinner or are we waiting for a certain unwanted guest?”

“Enough, Sam. Christ. I know you two don’t get along, but Hayes has helped us out more than you know. He gave me the moneyto hire lawyers so I could keep you after mom and dad died. Did you know that?”

No, I didn’t. It feels a little like a knife to the chest. The reminder of how close I was to being ripped away from Boo during the worst weeks of my life, the interviews I had to sit through, the packing and unpacking after every roadblock...

Is that why Hayes resents me so much? Because he had to pay to basically make his best friend a father, making it so he couldn’t go out and party all the time anymore? It seems like a stupid reason to bully a traumatized little girl until she cried, but I wouldn’t put anything past Hayes Sarro.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. So maybe cut him some slack, okay? Just make him some food when he comes over and don’t goad him.”

Anger flashes that I have to shove down. I don’t goad him, he goads me. I simply respond in kind. “So he is coming over then?”

“No, not tonight. Just whip up some burgers or something, I gotta head out again. At least all this overtime means I’ll finally be able to afford to fix the furnace soon.”

That would be nice. It’s been insufferably cold in here, but I haven’t had the heart tocomplain out loud. My brother can be callous sometimes, but he does his best. He always has. “We’re fine,” I say softly, pushing myself up to head to the kitchen. “Don’t work yourself to an early grave just for a little heat.”

From the scoff he lets out, I think he took that the wrong way. Like I was saying fixing the furnace isn’t good enough or something. That’s not at all what I said or what I meant, but I know better than to try to tell him that. Like all men, once he makes up his mind... there’s no changing it.

I just hope that stubbornness doesn’t get him killed.

4

Sometimes, one little text message is all it takes to ruin a whole week. In my case, that message came from Nate and simply said:Look, I really like you. I do. But why would I pick you when I wouldn’t even have time to break you in before I leave?

Yeah, he’s an asshole. I knew that already. I honestly don’t even like him all that much, but he’s my ticket out of Cape Frost. Freshly graduated with a football scholarship to some university far away, he’s the best chance I have of ever escaping this place. I’m rapidly running out of time to hook him.

So... maybe I need to bend the rules a little bit.

I’m midway through an absolute lie of a response when I hear Hayes’ stupid black Camaro pull into the driveway. He thinks it’s socool because it’s a ‘69, but I think it’s as overrated as he is.

Scowling, I toss my phone on the couch next to me and stand to go tell him to go to hell, but when I open the door and see him supporting my limp brother, all of that anger vanishes.

“What the fuck happened?” I screech, moving aside quickly to make room. “Hayes, what—”

“He’s fine,” he grunts, laying him on the couch with a thud. “Got the shit kicked out of him, but luckily I drove past the alleyway he was taking a nap in. Wake up, Boo.”

He slaps his cheek softly, which already looks about three shades of purple.

“Don’t hurt him,” I rush out, trying to figure out where to start patching him up.

As he stirs, I notice how swollen his eye is, the cut on his chin, the blood on his clothes.

“Move,” he grunts, trying to get up once he gets his bearings. “Those motherfuckers are dead.”

“Not today,” Hayes replies, grabbing both of his shoulders to lay him back again. “Running out half-cocked is what got you here.”

“Never done anything without a full cock in my life, now get out of my fucking way,” he grunts, wincing in pain almost immediately. “God damnit. Fucker broke my rib, I think.”

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