Page 72 of The Older Brother
And she’s going to leave in a few weeks. Sure, not forever, and she won’t be far. A daytrip away, really. And I intend to push her to take what the universe is giving her to get her closer to her dreams. To find herowndreams, too. And just own them like fucking mad. But she’s still going to leave. And while our sixyears isn’t the end of the world, it still feels like a lot when she has so much life left to experience.
“I see your wheels turning,” she says, pulling me from my thoughts.
I roll my head to the side and reach my hand over the console for her to take. She lays hers in mine, and I thread our fingers together.
“You can’t see my wheels. You’re in the car,” I joke.
She rolls her eyes, but a faint laugh still slips out.
“Did my dad tell you that joke too? When you spoke the other day?”
I shrug.
“Maybe.” Of course, he didn’t tell me that joke. Instead, he told me he was going to ask for what he’s owed and threaten to sue her mom. I need to break that news to her before dinner and his show tomorrow. I’m sure she’s wondering what prompted me to share everything when I did.
“Stay with me again. Tonight?” I ask.
Her mouth inches up as she nods, her sexy smirk such a fucking distraction from the task at hand. There’s little chance of me getting her inside to talk instead of ripping her clothes off. I’m going to have to get her father’s plan out now, before we reach the garage.
“Hey, I should also tell you . . .” I rub my chin, and she falls back into her seat, her invisible guard moving in place again. I’ve really hit her with a lot today. Too late now. I opened my fucking mouth already.
“The stuff I told you today, about my dad, and your mom. That’s what your dad and I talked about at the garage. That’s why he’s here, Saylor. He feels like he’s owed . . . I don’t know . . . something, I guess.”
Hearing it out loud, even in my own voice, makes it sound so much uglier. I don’t disagree that he’s not due for his damages,but this isn’t like a car crash. It was a wrecked marriage. And it’s been almost a decade. At this point, it feels like?—
“Extortion,” Saylor mutters, somehow pulling the word right out of my head.
I grimace, glancing back to the empty road then to her again. This stretch of desert at dusk is lonely. It’s beautiful sometimes, too. But right now, it feels extra bleak. Flat sand, thirsty brush, wilted wildflowers, and a haze from the faraway farm fields that shouldn’t thrive in this desert. It feels thick out here. Quiet.
“I don’t think he thinks of it that way. He’s still holding onto a lot of anger, maybe, and that emotion can make people do stupid things,” I say.
“Like confess to arson.”
I suck in my lips and hold my breath, smart enough to know that my knee-jerk reaction to her words won’t be kind or deserved. Besides, maybe she’s right. I was angry most of my adolescent life, and I’m still angry now. It’s why I revel in hurting my brother the way I do. And all that feeds into my lack of self-worth.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean?—”
“It’s fine. And you’re probably right.” My clipped words leave a coldness in the air, and the silence in the vehicle is palpable. The somberness matches the desert outside.
We ride along in quiet for several miles, the rumble of my tires on the beaten-up road the only thing keeping us company and reminding me that this isn’t a dream.
“I’m angry too,” Saylor finally cuts through the quiet. “Just so you know. We’re both allowed to be angry. And we’re allowed to make strange choices. And I guess . . .”
She lets out a heavy breath. I glance her way in time for her to do the same, and our gazes connect for a short, important moment.
“I guess my dad has that right too. The right thing to do would be for me to forgive him. Forgive all of them.” She blinks, her body suddenly seeming tired, as if she’s climbed a mountain to get here.
“Doing the right thing is overrated,” I say, only partly kidding.
The dark joke makes her laugh all the same, and soon, she moves her hand to my leg. The weight on my thigh is a welcome anchor, and suddenly the night seems hopeful again.
I want to tell her to try not to conflate his greed and need for retribution as a slight. He loves seeing her. She’s his light, even if he’s blinded a little right now. I could tell when they spoke. I sensed it in the way he clung to her as they hugged, like she could be ripped away from him at a moment’s notice. Saylor will come to it all on her own, though. Her own way. With or without me.
Without me.
“Does it embarrass you? Being with me, I mean?”
Her swift laugh at my question eases my worries a bit, but I still wonder if there isn’t a piece of her that’s getting ready for college and questioning being held back by some dropout mechanic.
