“You know these things don’t stay a secret; they eventually come out.” We slide into the car.
I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head again. “Believe me, I can keep a secret from my brother. Been doing it my whole life.”
“But can he?”
“What?”
“Is it going to eat at him? I mean, I’m sure he feels some sort of loyalty to Z, even though they’re not close anymore.”
“I mean, he didn’t tell anyone when he overheard Z talking.”
“See…” she laughs, shaking her head again. “Man, your family’s so exciting. I wish mine were.”
“No, you don’t.” I let out a sad chuckle. “Why do you think I moved off the compound? It’s exhausting.” Then, glancing at myself in the mirror for a moment.
“Please, it’s exhausting with my family cause it’s the same fucking stories all the time.”
Low grew up outside the city, not even a suburb, but a small farming town over an hour from campus.
“You saw it when you came with me for the holidays…” she trails off.
“I remember.” I laugh, nodding my head again.
“My dad tried to get you to feed the pigs.”
“I remember.” I laugh again. “Remember their reactions when they asked me why I wasn’t with my family for the holidays. They were mortified. I’m surprised they let you keep hanging out with me.”
“Why do you think I haven’t invited you back since?”
I cackle because, of course, they would hate me. Of course, they would judge me because my family is deeply involved in an MC and has been since well before I was born. That someone killed my parents because of it. That my brother was in prison at the time for nefarious affairs, he got into because of it. “That was a fun dinner.” I roll my eyes, thinking about the awkwardness that my trauma-dump caused them. But what the hell else am I supposed to say when someone asks me why I’m alone on the holidays and what happened to my parents?
Or why my brother was in prison?
“See, boring.” She groans out. “Why do you think I haven’t been back much since?”
It’s true we’ve spent every holiday together since then, and she hasn’t really been back for longer than a few days in the last 6 years. “I didn’t want to ask. Figured if you wanted me to know, you’d tell me.”
“They made me promise not to go around your family, though.”
It makes me laugh louder as I pull into my parking lot and turn off the engine. “Little do they know you have my brother’s number.”
“That’s for emergencies. I mean, you have a tendency to get yourself into situations.”
“One time.”
“More than once, and you know it.”
“Fine,” I groan as we walk through the door and up the stairs.
As we walk into the apartment, she looks around the space. “So when is Dead Man Walking supposed to be coming back?”
It surprises me when she says it, and I look at her wide-eyed, trying not to laugh. “When he gets off work. Late. And both of you are being dramatic. Z won’t kill him if he finds out.”
“When,” Low corrects me again. “And he will.”
“Okay,” I say sarcastically to her.
“I mean. Unless you have control over when it comes out, he’ll at the least leave a mark. And you know I’m right.”
