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I feel even more annoyed at myself for not recognizing Winnie Sutton straight off. Even Christine, who barely notices anyone outside of her circle, knew Winnie back in school. “I didn’t realize she had siblings.”
Christine narrows her eyes, noting my interest. “Two, maybe? That dark-haired fool over there is Jesse Sutton. He’s the one dating Chelsea, who apparently hasno problempicking through trailer trash.”
Ghost Walker and I suck in twin breaths. “What the hell isthat supposed to mean?” I ask Christine. She slow blinks at me, like she’s confused at my outburst. To be honest, I’m a little taken aback myself. But, for real, has Christine always been this mean?
“It doesn’t mean anything,” she drawls. “I just don’t care for fleas in my bed.” The guys snicker.
“The kid can’t be more than a freshman, and his sister probably graduated early because she was smarter than the rest of us. Where they live has absolutely nothing to do with it.”
Christine raises a brow. “Okay, who even are you right now? Like, you’re the guy always flaunting your money around, asking your housekeeper to deliver your lunch every day at school, driving your brand-new Navigator around town.”
I inwardly wince. She’s not wrong. “I’m an asshole, true. Walker said it every day. I’m only saying being rich might’ve mademetrash, but that’s got nothing to do with money and everything to do with me. Stop being such a snob.”
“Christ, Michaels. When’d you get so deep?” Copper-Cooper,whoever, says.
“You know, you haven’t been much fun since Walker died,” Christine adds.
Ghost Walker groans, shaking his head as he settles down on the concrete bench next to me.Not worth it, Case.
The fuck it’s not. “Yeah, well, I guess my perspective has changed. Death will do that.”
“Okay, like no offense, Case, but Walker was sick a long time.”
(For the record, never has the phraseno offensebeen uttered when the person didn’t absolutely mean offense.)
Christine is still talking, and Ghost Walker is shaking his head all the more fervently now. Walker hated confrontation. No timelike a good time and all. I also used to hate it, before he got sick. But Christine is still running her mouth off about things she has no earthly idea about. “He was never going to live to be old. It’s okay to be sad, but you had to know he wasn’t going to be around forever.”
For a half second, Walker’s voice echoes in my brain:Leave it. Go jump in the pool and go home.But I’m a little buzzed and a lot angry, so I don’t.
“He could have been old. Or at least, he could have died from something else years and years from now.”
Walker’s joke was always,You’re more likely to get hit by a bus. As if no one really gets hit by a bus, but he hoped he might have a shot at it.
Christine sighs patiently, and it’s close to making me snap because here she is being all reasonable. “Walker was terminal. Always.”
God, I hate that word. “Technically, every one of us is terminal. No one survives life. But sure, if it makes you feel better, then yes. Walker’s lungs were shit. He was never going to live long with them. He packed as much life as he could into eighteen years and had excellent odds of getting a new pair of lungs. At least until the rest of the world couldn’t be inconvenienced by thinking of others over themselves. Until they decided 1.78 percent of the population was weak and therefore expendable.”
“Dude, Case,” one of the guys cuts in, but Christine quiets him with a look. It’sthatlook that sets me off. Thelet it go, he’s a sad fuckerlook.
I get to my feet, pointing with the bottle in my hand. “No. It’s fine. Let him talk, Christine. I want to hear this.Really.Please convince me I’m wrong.”
She rolls her eyes, and the guy holds up his hands in surrender, backing down. “Never mind.”
“Never the fuck mind is right. Because I’m not wrong. And you know what’s the worst part? Walker understood it. He was on your side. He used to say to me, ‘Why should it matter to them if a sick kid dies? It’s natural selection, ain’t it?’ He’d say he could just as easily die being stomped on by a bull. Or jumping off a corn silo. But that never flew with me, because he deserved a chance. But you fuckers didn’t care.”
I smash my bottle to the ground, and it shatters in a hundred pieces, making Christine shriek. I stalk back to the basement and pull another cold beer from the fridge. I don’t think about it. Instead, I crack the cap off with a flick and gulp it down. This is not at all how I expected tonight to go. I was supposed to show up, have a few beers to get loose, jump in a pool to fulfill Walker’s dumb list, and then find a willing distraction to finish off the night. A few hours to pretend I’m the new and improved Case. The one who’s still the life of the party. The one who does casual sex. The one who’s moved on since his best friend died and is fine on his own. Instead, I’m drunk, sad, and empty as fuck.
I grab the last two Lone Stars, tucking one under my arm, and stomp up the stairs, wincing in the harsh light of the kitchen as I fling open the basement door. The number of people has multiplied. Loud hip-hop thumps from the speakers while a group of kids plays flippy cups on the island. A quick glance shows that Pax has wandered off, possibly with Madi. I waver on my feet, rocking slightly in indecision. There’re two girls by the sink, laughing at who knows what. One of them gives me a bold look up and down. She seems vaguely familiar, and I think maybe she’s a year or two older. A college student home on break or something.
Someone shouts by the flippy cups, and I see Jesse Sutton with his skinny arm slung around Pax’s little sister, Chelsea. From what I can tell, they aren’t drinking anymore, and anyway, it’s not like Pax, Walker, and I didn’t sneak beers at their age. But I still feel weirdly protective of Winnie’s younger brother. Or something. Seeing her brother reminds me of the way she brushed me off the other morning, and it makes me feel…
Well, I don’t like it. Don’t want it. Not here and not now. I walk up to Jesse and hold out my last beer. “Here, man. Your hands are empty.”
His eyes widen in surprise, but he takes it.
I look to Chelsea. “Hey, Chels, where’s your bro?”
“Outside by the pool, I think.”
