Page 12 of Together We Rot

She makes the mistake of rubbing her eye with one hand and her eyeliner smudges even worse. “Please offer me a sliver of what’s going on. I’m begging here.”

My mouth’s gone dry. The fortress I’ve built around my secrets is steep, but I force some through the cracks for Ronnie. “They’re closing Mom’s case. Vrees practically told me that when I came in today. He’s done dealing with me.”

I see the effect instantly. The awkward ripple beneath her skin. The gears turning rapidly in her brain, trying her best to offer up the right thing to say. I really hope she doesn’t tell me she’s sorry. I’ve had my fill of that.

“Seriously?” she asks instead, and I could almost sigh in relief. Her brows furrow, and I watch the curl of her lip as she scowls. It’s hard to tell how much is genuine and how much is her mimicking me, serving whatever emotion she thinks I’d like to see. “It’s only been a year. And now it’s all over? Just like that?”

“For them,” I’m quick to chime in. “Not for me.”

Ice gusts carry flurries across the half-eaten road. Snow’s devoured any lines we had. She wets her lips. The lipstick from earlier has all but disappeared. “I could help.”

“Unless you want to hang out in Elwood’s bushes with me—” Shit, I didn’t mean to say that much.

Her laughter is short-lived. When I don’t join in, she whips toward me, and I have to swat at her to keep focused on the road. “You’re serious?”

“It would be one horrible joke,” I counter, and the thought of someone else knowing the truth sours my stomach. “I need dirt on them.”

She’s never been one to hide her nerves well. “Wil, you could get in actual trouble, you know that, right? What if they send you to juvie or something?”

“Pretty sure they don’t send eighteen-year-olds there.” I shrug.

She doesn’t ease up. “I’m not well versed in the law, but... God, Wil, now you’ve got me paranoid about this. Next thing you’re going to do is tell me you’ve actually broken in... you haven’t, have you?”

I shake away her concern. “No, Ronnie, you can relax. And I’m not really worried about me. I’m worried about Mom. I need proof.”

Ronnie offers me a sympathetic look, but I avert my eyes to the radio. I don’t need pity. Pity won’t pay the bills, and pity sure as hell won’t fix things.

“Did Elwood give you anything?” she asks.

“That’s the worst part,” I confess, and luckily my hands are out of sight. They’ve begun to shake a little. I sit on them to fight the tremble in my fingers. “He acted like he didn’t have a clue what I was talking about. Again. I guess it doesn’t matter if he’s drunk or high or on truth serum.”

“Do you believe him?”

“No. I should’ve known better. I don’t believe a word out of Elwood’s mouth.”

We sit in silence for the rest of the drive. It’s a full fifteen minutes to the motel from Lucas’s place. Typically, it takes half that time, but not before some Good Samaritan decides to plow the roads.

The green from this morning has vanished without a trace. Ice gusts whip past the main entrance, spinning the Vacancy sign in dizzy circles. Any faster and it might fling right off and crash into the parking lot.

Above it: Gre Mo el.

The surviving lights cut through the gray night, a fluorescent lime green that should spell out “Greene Family Motel” but hasn’t in a year. Now it’s an eyesore, but at least it’s hideous enough to match the rest of the building.

“Does it ever get any easier?” I ask. It’s a quiet question, barely there in the dark.

I don’t have to explain myself. Grief stitches an impenetrable bond between us. “I’ve missed my dad since I was eight. I think about him all the time, I really do, but... time helps. You learn to take the world day by day. You pick up the shattered pieces of yourself and move forward.”

I link my pinkie finger with hers and she gives me a reaffirming squeeze. “Do you need me to spend the night? I can make up some lie in the morning to my mom, but if you need me, I’m here.”

I don’t want to be alone. I really, really don’t. But try as I might, I can’t bring myself to ask.

Not when it’s so easy to fake a smile, give her finger a tighter tug, and say, “Don’t worry, I’m okay.”

She squints. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” I lie.

She abandons my hand to pull me into an actual half hug. “Text me if you need anything, all right?” She’s a lot stronger than she looks. “Anything you need. I’ll be here. Anarchy Sisters, remember?”

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