That’s… fuck. That was when I did a thing.
Maybe it had been desperation speaking. Maybe it was because sharing my personal space didn’t terrify me anymore. Better said, he had calmed every anxious part of me that loved hiding.
“Move in with me,” I said.
Silence. Again.
I scrunched my eyes, not sure if it made the wait easier or if I just wanted to disappear the longer it dragged on. Then, after a torturous eternity, the slam of the door snapped my eyes back open.
Tom walked away from the gas station to light a smoke.
I watched his shaky hands cup the lighter. I watched him take a couple of desperate first drags.
The cigarette burned too fast, so he lit another.
He paced around a picnic bench, gesturing wildly with his hands in the air, ranting words I couldn’t hear.
For a second, I thought maybe he hadn’t heard me. But no, he had heard me. He just didn’t answer.
It felt like a slap, but I swallowed it. Maybe it had been too much all at once, or maybe he needed that cigarette to think the move-in-with-me idea through.
I tried to act as casual as my bad poker face let me, pretending the last ten minutes did not happen.
After finishing his third cigarette, he came back. We switched sides and I drove us back to Amsterdam. The rest of the drive was quiet, the most awful kind of quiet.
I zip up my duffel and set it beside my suitcase in Tom’s bedroom. Everything’s neatly folded.
The soothing sense of order and control calms me. At least something’s organized, can’t say the same about the mess in my head. Still, they share one thing in common: they’re both ready to get on the plane.
Tom walks in with his phone still in hand, irritation written all over his face. I can practically see the thunderclouds gathering above his head.
“That was Jay. I confronted him about blocking my account, but he swore he had nothing to do with it. Apparently someone remotely froze a bunch of accounts—mine included. The bank confirmed the hack.”
“Oh god. Is your money safe? Do you believe him?”
“Yeah, I think so. He swore on our mother.”
Jay might be a prick—okay, no, he is a prick—but swearing on your mom? Jay’s probably telling the truth. Even I can’t ignore that.
Then again, their mother abandoned them, so what does swearing on her even mean?
Tom runs a hand through his hair, it’s a little habit he has when he needs to improvise.
“He’s coming over in a bit. He wants to talk to us.”
My body tenses. No part of me wants to see that man again.
“I’m not sure I want to talk to him.”
“I think he wants to apologize. So I thought… maybe we can hear him out? Only if you want that. I can tell him no and we go immediately to Effy’s gallery to say goodbye.”
He looks at me with those bright blue eyes, a pearlescent gleam over them. The hope in his eyes is impossible to ignore and I don’t know if he sees the reality for what it is.
The idea of making peace with Jay and still doing what he wants—and that is, leaving with me—feels like wishful thinking. Tom probably knows the odds aren’t in his favor if he wants both, but at least this gives him the chance to stand up for himself and draw the line he hasn’t dared to draw for years.
I don’t know what he’s planning to tell Jay, or how long it will take before his brother starts twisting things again. But one thing I do know is that Tom deserves that final bit of closure before this trip ends.
I set my feelings aside. He needs my support more than my doubts.
