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I make a choice and set my backpack on the ground. He just told his support system to leave, and if he’s strong enough to do that, then maybe I can be strong enough to let go of a crutch.
One day, I want to feel safe and powerful without holding my backpack tight.
“I still can’t drink alcohol. I’m not twenty-one yet.”
Lo wears a bitter smile. “Trust me, from experience, you can still drink. It being illegal didn’t stop me.” He hangs his head for a second, then lifts his amber eyes to my brown. “Maybe I gave you the wrong impression.”
My lips downturn. “About what?”
“About Garrison, for one,” he says. “Christ, I never expected you two to be…” He cringes like it’s painful to think about.
“Friends?”
He tries to relax at that title. “Yeah, that. I know guys like him. I was like him—it’s why I’m nicer to Garrison than I am to most people—but that doesn’t mean I approve of you hanging out at his place on a Sunday night. Or any night. No sleepovers.” He pauses. “Can I make that rule?”
He’s my brother, not my dad, but I see that he’s just trying to protect me. “Yeah,” I nod. “I like that rule.” It means he cares.
Someone wants me home at a certain hour.
Someone wants me safe.
Lo hesitates and stares off again, his face a bit murderous, and I wonder if he’s thinking about Garrison. Regretting giving him a hand.
“I’m glad you’re nice to him,” I say. “I think he needs that more than me.”
Lo shakes his head once. “You’re my priority.”
It swells and breaks my heart. “Don’t hate him because of me.”
Lo runs his tongue over the bottom of his teeth, and he barely nods. It’s hard to take that as an affirmation. “You should know something,” he says almost inaudibly.
“What?”
“I’m petty.” He flashes that iconic half-smile. “I hold grudges, and in past history, I’m not the good person. But goddamn, I’m trying to be.” He lets out a deep breath. “It’s hard, and I can’t…I just can’t promise anything, Willow.”
I wipe my nose that runs before my eyes leak. “I understand.”
We’re all complex people with many layers and strings, and I can’t sit here and pretend to know all of theirs. All of his. But in time, maybe I will see more.
Maybe I will know the kind of person they all were and maybe I’ll be here to witness the kind of people we’ll all be.
My car won’t start.
I’m trying to return to my apartment, but my gold Honda sits like a hunk of junk in Lo’s driveway. Hood popped, Ryke tinkers with the contents while Connor points a flashlight towards the engine.
“You already checked the battery’s water level,” Connor says. It’s not his first comment or probably his last. `
Ryke glowers. “What the fuck did I say two minutes ago?”
“I purposefully ignore you when you tell me to shut the fuck up, especially if you’re wasting time repeating actions you’ve taken.” Connor points the flashlight towards another part of the car and instructs him—much to Ryke’s annoyance.
Our breath smokes the air, the November temperature dropping fast tonight, but we all put on coats and shoes. I cup a mug of hot chocolate thanks to Daisy. Lo is on the phone, sending work emails I think, but he’s close by—and Lily and Rose stay indoors for warmth.
Daisy said Rose would probably be out here helping, but Jane started crying through the baby monitor.
“I can just drive her in Rose’s car,” Daisy suggests for the tenth time.
“No,” all the guys say in unison. Because apparently she’s a reckless driver, and I’m not even sure if she has her license beyond a motorcycle one.
“It might be a clogged fuel filter…fuck.” Ryke winces, his finger caught in something, but he shakes it out.
Daisy’s face contorts, a little concerned for him. He’s a rock climber, after all—his hands are precious. “Maybe we should take the car into the shop tomorrow,” she says. “We can let Willow spend the night. That’s probably what Lo wants, too.”
“No, it’s okay,” I interject. “I can call an Uber or something.” I think everyone needs space from me for a while.
“That seems unwise,” Connor tells me while shining the flashlight for Ryke. “It’s late and people know who you are.”
“Famous people take Ubers all the time in Los Angeles…I think. And I mean, I’m not famous like all of you. You know…?” I want to stop talking now. Thanks.
“We’re not in LA. We’re in Philadelphia,” Connor says in a way that makes me feel dumb for making the comparison.
“Fuck off, Cobalt,” Ryke says from beneath the car hood.
Daisy suddenly swings her head to the left, and I follow her gaze. Warm lamplight illuminates the neighborhood street, but darkness lies beyond.
She solidifies, eerily motionless. “Did you hear that?” she asks me.
