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By the other three cars, I knew Todd, Jeff and Brad were here, but I’d assumed that the missing Camaro equaled a missing Cooper. The fourth car’s a mystery, but it could be anyone: a friend of Mom’s, a business associate of Dad’s, but my sister’s choice in clothing suggests Cooper’s in the house and she needs me in order to have the courage to stand near him.
Gripping the steering wheel tighter than I should, I ease into the driveway and turn off the engine. Home sweet home. Until Mom decides to move again.
I exit the car, and Martha’s in my grill before I can shut the driver’s side door. “Where have you been?”
“Driving.” It’s better than telling the truth, that I visited the cemetery again. Not a good answer when everyone’s in the dark about me visiting at all.
“Well, Mom texted you and so did I. Why are you ignoring us?”
Crap. My phone. I pull it out of my pocket and power it on. Sure enough, the message icon pops onto the screen. “Sorry. I must have turned it off by mistake.”
Not a mistake. I crave silence, not Mom asking if I need anything for the millionth time.
Martha focuses on the ground and does that thing with her toe that shows she’s nervous—like she’s squishing an ant with her foot. “Cooper’s here.”
She’s barely sixteen and he’s eighteen. She’s bright-eyed and innocent and he’s Cooper. I’d shatter his face with my fist if he asked her out or if he mistakenly dreamed of touching her like he’s touched half the girls in school. For some reason, I force a smile instead of letting the angry thoughts tumble out of my mouth.
“Why is he here?” I nod to the other cars. “Why are any of them here?”
Martha’s glare would set tropical rainforests on fire. “Cooper’s your friend.”
“Yeah, he is, and so are the rest of them. Last I checked, I wasn’t home and I didn’t invite them over.”
Her anger washes away. “We’re all worried about you. You aren’t acting right.”
The muscles in my back cramp. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not. Even Cooper said it.”
That stops me short. “When were you talking to Cooper?”
Martha’s cheeks redden. “I don’t know. A week or so after the accident. He called looking for you and like always these days, you weren’t home so we talked...about you.”
I step forward and tower over her. “You don’t need to be talking to Cooper.”
“He’s your friend,” she hisses with venom.
For the second time today, I wonder why I’m his friend. The guy treats girls like toilet paper and he should know better than to creep on my sister.
“You don’t smile like you mean it anymore,” she continues. “You’re quiet and you don’t go out with anyone. He’s worried about you and so am I. I mean, you never invite your friends over anymore.”
“Who are you really concerned for, me or you?”
Pain slashes across her face and I immediately regret the statement. What the hell is wrong with me? “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“But you did,” she whispers. After a few blinks, she lifts her chin and stares at me like she wishes I didn’t matter. For a few seconds, I wish the same thing. It wasn’t my goal to hurt her.
“Mom invited them over for dinner,” she says. “She thought it would cheer you up.”
Martha’s starter heels click against the stone driveway as she pivots away from me and heads for the house. She tried wearing real heels last spring and tripped over her own feet and into a coffee table in front of my friends. They laughed. She cried. I did nothing.
“You’re too good for him,” I call out.
My sister trembles like she’s on the verge of a seizure before she turns around. “What are you talking about?”
I don’t know. What is my deal today with not keeping my mouth shut? Martha’s crushed on Cooper since we were young, and I’ve ignored it, but seeing Stella...seeing James Cohen’s grave again...I bet he would have been the kind of guy who protected his sister.
I force myself to join Martha. Her eyes plead with me to give her hope, causing my shoulders to roll forward as I smash my hands into my pockets. Who am I to step in? It’s her life, right? “No one’s going to be good enough for you.”
