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“I’ll figure it out, Connor,” I said.
“It’s not a big deal—”
“It’s a big deal to me, okay? I take enough from you. I need to figure my own shit out, and take care of Ma.”
“How? The Army?”
“If I have to.”
Connor shook his head and blew out his cheeks. “You’re really fucking smart, Wes. But sometimes you’re really fucking stupid.”
“How’s that?”
“You think this is all one-sided? You think you don’t help me out? You write my damn papers. You got me through the SATs. Hell, the only reason I’m here is because of you.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is true, and that’s why you’re fucking stupid. Because you can’t see what kind of talent you have. A brain and…fucking soul like yours is majoring in Economics? Why aren’t you writing a book? Why aren’t you taking your running seriously? Maybe I don’t have the balls to open my own sports bar yet, but at least I know what I want.”
“Where the hell is this coming from?”
Connor shrugged, his trademark smile all but vanished. “I don’t know. Thanksgiving. I feel like I have to brace myself for battle against my parents while they slobber all over you and you don’t even know why.”
“They don’t slobber on me.”
“You and Autumn are my secret weapons. But she hasn’t even said yes to the invite yet.” He sighed. “I’m just going to fuck it up with her anyway. If we make it to Thanksgiving, it’ll be a miracle.”
I shifted in my seat, glanced down at my raw, scraped palms. “You’re not going to fuck up with Autumn. She cares about you. What you did for her last night was a lot.”
Connor smirked and wore an expression I’d never seen him wear before. “That’s just money.”
I started to protest but he cut me off.
“I know you wrote those texts to her last night, Wes.”
I froze. “I…”
“You said you wouldn’t help me and then you did. Why?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I couldn’t sleep. I heard your phone. It made you look good and made her happy. Win-win.”
Connor nodded, absorbing this. “You know… It never occurred to me to check in with her. I care about her but it never occurred to me. But it did to you.” He looked at me. “Does this mean you’re helping me again?”
“I guess so. If you need me.”
If she needs me. She deserves to be happy.
“I mean…you don’t need my help,” I said. “It’s all there, man. You just need to—”
“Put in the effort?” Connor asked with the rueful smile. “Go on, get out of here before they tow your piece of shit to the junkyard.”
I nodded. “Yep, okay. I’ll see you at home.”
“See ya.”
I climbed out of Connor’s $80,000 sports car and into my junker. The contrast between our lives had never been more obvious. Connor was wrong—sometimes money counted for a lot. Sometimes it was the difference between watching the girl you cared about worry over her dad, and getting her on a plane to be with him.
I turned the key in the ignition, but the car was dead.
