Page 36 of Unwanted

“I don’t know what to think,” I confess.

“That makes two of us.” He heaves a heavy sigh and starts the car. “Let’s just focus on one thing at a time and feed everybody first.”

Rolling my lips together, I nod. “Sounds good.”

The silence continues to stretch as he drives us to the pizza place, yet every single mistake and misunderstanding between us feels so suffocatingly loud. I try to think of something to say, but Arlo speaks up first.

“What happened with Lennox?” he asks. “Did he admit to being roughed up?”

My lungs release air in relief. I could talk about Lennox.

“He didn’t go into details, but he admitted it happened.”

“Did he say why he hid it from you?”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, hating that my brother ever felt this way but knowing Arlo would understand. “He didn’t want to be a burden.”

“It explains a lot, though,” Arlo says.

“It does? I feel kind of stupid for not noticing,” I admit.

“Do you not remember how hard you worked to make sure he felt comfortable and loved and welcome?”

I don’t tell Arlo that the only things I remember are all the times I let Lennox down. All the times I was never there or how I thought providing him with a roof over his head, food, and a good education would be enough to excuse my absence.

“At least he’s talking to me,” I say. “He’s allowing me to be kept in the loop. And I’m hoping with me close by, we can maybe get back on track.”

Arlo finds a parking spot in front of the restaurant and switches the car off. “They said it wouldn’t be too long,” I tell him, changing the subject. “So I’ll go inside and wait.”

Before I manage to open the door, Arlo’s hand is gripping my forearm. “Hold on.”

Looking down and then back up at him, I stare wordlessly.

“When you told Lennox you would be close by?” He wets his lips, and my eyes gravitate to his now shiny mouth, wanting nothing more than to feel it against my own. “Frankie?”

I drag my eyes away from his lips and meet his eyes. “Hmmm?”

“You being close by to Lennox,” he repeats. “Does that mean you’re staying?”

I want to say yes.

I want to say no.

Truth is, I’m staying for now, and that’s all I know.

But instead the only thing I manage is, “Would it be a problem if I was?”

12

ARLO

Would it be a problem?

I backtrack. “Just forget I asked.”

“Arlo.” Frankie puts his hand over mine, reminding me that I’m still touching him. “Would it be a problem if I stayed?”

I focus on our hands, together, regretting the question, because now I don’t have an answer.

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