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“You can't make those kinds of promises,” I answer coldly. Forcing my hand to move, I pull the handle, and let the door swing open. It bounces lightly against the hinges, and the heat from the muggy summer day hits me like a ton of bricks.

“Well,” my brother says, “time to get this over with.” He throws open his door and jumps out.

I exhale a slow breath, ready to take that first step. But before I can, my father is already screaming.

“What the hell happened!?” His fingers rip at his hair, and his eyes are wide as saucers. Small red veins in his eyes shoot across like rivers of fire, and the thick vein in his forehead begins to throb. “What the fuck did you do?” His voice echoes as he yells. He walks right past my door, and to his car that's now a mangled mess of broken metal. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Dad—” I start to say as I hop down onto the dirt, but Brand quickly steps in and cuts me off.

“I'm so sorry about the car, Mr. Klein. This is all my fault.”

What? No, it's not! You did nothing wrong!

Why are you saying this right now?

I'm speechless. The words roll through my head, but nothing finds its way out.

My father jerks his head in his direction, his eyes burning with fire. “You—you did this? How the hell did you destroy my car?” He doesn't hold back. “You dumb fucking shit! Tell me what the hell happened you stupid fucking asshole!”

Brand clears his throat and holds out his hand. He pats the air as if that will somehow quell the situation. “I meant to tell you this morning that she needed gas, but I completely forgot. So, I asked Seth to run up the street to put some in. He didn't want to do it, he told me you wouldn't be happy if you found out, but I made him anyway. When Mrs. Klein told me she couldn't find him, I knew exactly where he was. I saw how worried Mrs. Klein and Kelsie were, so I decided to go get him. Kelsie came with me, and I just pretended like I didn't know where he was. When we got to the station, I wouldn't let him drive it back, I decided I should be driving it instead.”

My father's jaw clicks back and forth over his teeth. “That still doesn't tell me exactly how this happened.” He throws a stiff finger out and points at the car. “This isn't fucking story time. All I want to know is how this happened.” His finger trembles with rage at the car.

“I was being stupid and showing off. I lost control and flipped her.”

He's lying. Why the hell is he lying for my brother?

My jaw is hanging open and I'm not sure what to say. Neither does my brother. We're both standing like statues. I look over at Seth and arch a single brow. He needs to do something. My brother needs to step up and take responsibility for what he's done.

Fix this! My eyes are screaming at my brother. I want him to grow some balls and stand up. This isn't right. I'm watching Brand sacrifice himself for my punk brother.

Fine. If you're not going to do it, I am. I shake my head at my brother and flare my nostrils. “Dad,” I say, holding out my hand. “That's n—”

“No, Kelsie,” Brand says, giving me a hard stare. “He needs to know the truth. Right, Seth? Tell him, tell your dad what happened.”

“Uh, yeah,” he says with a stutter. “Brand took off fast, and then the car started to fishtail, and he lost control.”

You little bastard!

Can my father not see the cut on Seth's face? Can he not hear his lie in his voice?

I'm stunned. Brand and my brother are making up a story for what? To save my brother's ass?

Maybe it isn't your brother he's saving. The thought hits me hard, like a dagger in the chest. And as I look in Brand eyes, I see it clearly. He isn't doing this for my brother at all. This is for me. . . But why?

My father's lips fold into a deep scowl. His hands are clenched at his sides, and the throbbing vein on his forehead is now ready to burst. With flared nostrils, his voice is low, but clear. “You're fucking fired. Get the hell out of here.”

No! It's not his fault!

“Dad, wait!” I yell, taking a few long steps forward. “You can't—”

“Kelsie,” Brand says, “it's the right thing. I fucked up and this is what happens.”

“But it's not… You—”

“It is.” His eyes steady on mine. “When you make a mistake, you have to pay the price. And sometimes that costs you everything.”

The tone in voice makes me question everything I thought about us.

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