Page 10 of When the Storm Breaks
“Fuck that. I’m outta here.” He headed for the front door. Ridge was always on the verge of running away but considering he had nowhere to go, he never got far. He might be failing school, but the kid wasn’t stupid. He was street smart. A survivor who knew that staying with me meant he’d have food, clothes and shelter. As long as he was under my roof, he was mine to protect and to fight for. Which was exactly what I intended to do.
I grabbed the collar of his T-shirt and hauled him back then shoved him onto the sofa. “You’re not going anywhere until this essay is done.”
His eyes narrowed. I crossed my arms over my chest and stared him down. He rolled his eyes, a reminder that he was only seventeen. Still a kid. A fucked-up kid who needed guidance and love and the reassurance that I wasn’t going to quit on him no matter what he did or said or how hard he pushed me. This was what Kate had told me and she was the best fucking mother on the planet, so I took her advice on board.
“What are you gonna do?” He smirked. “Kick me out if I don’t write a stupid ass essay?”
“Nah. Not looking to take the easy way out. We’re not leaving this room until it’s written.”
He groaned. “Come on, man.” His head hit the back of the sofa and he stared at the ceiling. “I’m not good at this shit.”
Well, that makes two of us. “Did you read the book?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Couldn’t get past the first page. Total snooze-fest.”
I picked up the book and checked the page count. Just over a hundred pages. NotWar and Peace, thank fuck. “Then I guess I’d better make a pot of coffee. It’s gonna be a long-ass night.” I tossed the book into his lap. “Start reading. Out loud so I can listen too.”
“Why are you being such a hard-ass about this? It’s just a stupid English essay. I’ve got better shit to do with my time.”
“So do I. But we’re doing this.”
“We?”
“Start reading,” I commanded as I strode into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. Like this was what I wanted to be doing on a Tuesday night. I sure as hell hadn’t been the best student. But this kid would finish high school if it fucking killed me.
The first time I met Ridge was New Year’s Day. Before the cops called and told me he’d been found alongside the road about fourteen miles from here and was asking for me by name, I had no idea my baby brother even existed. He’d taken a bus and hitchhiked across four state lines to get to me. By the time he showed up, he was beaten and bloody. A long-haul trucker had dumped his ass on the side of the road after he was informed over the radio that someone matching Ridge’s description had stolen another trucker’s wallet at the truck stop in the next county. I was sure he’d done worse things.
Ridge had been raised by a junkie who would go for years of being clean only to lapse again. Until finally the drugs had killed her. Instead of calling the authorities when he found her dead in their apartment, Ridge had packed his bags and hightailed it out of there. He said he’d only found out about me six months before our mother died. She’d let it slip that she had another son named Brody who lived in Cypress Springs, Texas. She’d claimed I had deserted her, turned my back on her and told lies that had resulted in her losing custody of me.
I hadn’t lied. I hadn’t told the whole truth either. If I had, she would have lost me years before that.
Like me, Ridge had been dealt a shit hand but unlike me, he hadn’t been lucky enough to be taken in by family at the age of ten. Kate and Patrick had offered to take him in but the way I saw it, he had come here looking for me. He was my responsibility, not theirs, and I had no intention of failing him the way our mother had. I’d do whatever I could to help him move on from his past and make a good life for himself.
More living, less dwelling. That was my motto and it had served me well. Hell knows I’d done a lot of living.
Booted feet propped on the coffee table, mug of coffee in my hand, I pulled out my phone and texted my buddy Austin while Ridge grudgingly readOf Mice and Men.
You still got that old pickup you use for hayrides?
Message sent, I pocketed my phone and listened to the story. It had probably been assigned reading back when I was in high school, but hell knows I hadn’t read it either. Turns out I’d missed out on some good shit.
“Well, damn, that was harsh,” Ridge said when he reached the end, and tossed the book on the coffee table. “That’s the trouble with having big dreams.”
I side-eyed him. “You have to have big dreams, Ridge. It’s what gives you hope. Gives you something worth fighting for.”
He snorted. “That was cheesy as hell.”
“Yeah. Guess it was.” I chuckled under my breath. I’d never felt as old as I did right now, trying to straddle the line between parent and older brother. It was easier with a six-year-old. Noah still believed I walked on water whereas Ridge saw through all my bullshit and called me out on it. It wasn’t just their age difference though. It was their circumstances. Noah’s life had always been good. From the minute he was born, he never had to worry about being loved or taken care of. Had never had to question or doubt that the adults in his life would always be there for him. With no reason not to, Noah’s first instinct was to put his trust in people, believing they’d always do right by him. I don’t think I’d ever been that innocent or trusting, not even at six.
Ridge was more like me. Took more convincing to believe that people’s intentions were good, and they’d have your back if you should ever need them. No doubt he’d been looking after himself for a long time, never trusting that our mother would be there when he needed her. Because she never fucking was.
You would think that finding out my mother was dead would have made me feel something. But I hadn’t felt a damn thing. She’d been dead to me for a long time. But Ridge was a different story. He’d spent seventeen years of his life with her.
Now he stared at the blank sheet of paper in front of him, his shoulders slumped. “What the fuck am I supposed to write?”
“Write your own truth.”
He looked at me like I was crazy but a few seconds later he started writing.
