“Wow,” she said, her eyes as large as her owl’s on her hat. “You weren’t kidding when you said you loved her.”
I just hoped she loved me back. I’d lived with her for six weeks, but in that short time, I’d become a man blinded by a bright future. With her. It had been a very real possibility in every move she made closer to me, all grace and honey perfume, every laugh, every time I was inside her. It was all I wanted. Paige Sullivan was everything I ever wanted.
And I had thrown it all away to try to save my family who refused to be saved. Or maybe they hadn’t been the ones who needed saving in the first place. Either way, Paige deserved more than the bitter betrayal and disappointment I had left her with. Both had wrapped around her voice when she’d called me in jail, and I couldn’t stand to hear it. Telling her that it would be better if she didn’t call again was my lame-ass way of letting her go be with someone who deserved her. Not me. Not then.
“You’ll come back to see me?” Rose asked.
“Probably not.”
Her fingerless-gloved hand karate chopped into my arm, close enough to my almost-healed bullet wound and hard enough to make me sit up and take notice. She had a lot more gusto than when I last saw her in rehab.
“I’ll come and visit you on one condition,” I said.
“No, Sam, I will not do any more heroin,” she said and slid me an angry glare. “How many times are you going to make me promise?”
“Not that,” I said, shaking my head. “I mean yes, that, but another thing, too.”
“What?” she asked with a sigh.
“Sorry, not sorry. What the fuck does that even mean? And why was that your last tweet before your overdose? Was that some kind of vague warning or some bullshit?” When she didn’t answer, I stared at her. I planned to stay just like that until she cracked from brotherly annoyance.
“It means...at that particular point in time...I had a moment of clarity.” She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. “Even though heroin took over my life, I knew exactly what path I was headed toward. And I knew the only way out was down. I knew that in order for me to stop, I had to hit rock bottom. I was sorry that I put you and the fam in that situation, but I wasn’t sorry for myself. That was me taking responsibility for my own self-destruction.”
I turned toward my window, not really seeing the city roll past while her words twisted themselves through the memories of leaving her alone in our backyard long enough for her to get her first hit. “I left you alone with him, Rose.”
“But you didn’tmakeme do anything. I did it of my own free will.” She tapped her thumbs against the steering wheel. “I can slap my own Band-Aid on myself to give me superpowers during yellow bird tag or the game of life or whatever. You can’t protect me forever, you know.”
I glanced over, and sure enough, underneath a knitted half-finger of her glove was a yellow Band-Aid wrapped around her knuckle. My sister was a walking symbol of strength and freedom. I briefly considered shuffling through the radio stations to find something patriotic. We were in D.C., so the national anthem shouldn’t have been too hard to find. Instead, I turned back to the window, smiling. If the super-powered Band-Aid and bird tattoo helped her stay my little sister and not the zombie demon that had entered rehab, I wouldn’t judge.
“Well, you’re Mom and Dad’s favorite, so yeah, I do have to protect you forever,” I said.
She laughed, and it sounded so bright and airy that it instantly lightened my shoulders. She didn’t blame me. Not that I thought she would, but I had spent months blaming myself enough for the both of us. While that feeling would probably never go away, maybe in time I could eventually forgive myself for turning my back on her for a second too long.
“Please come to visit me soon,” she begged.
I grinned until I felt like my whole damned face hurt. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”
* * *
TWO CONNECTING FLIGHTSlater, I fumbled in the back of a cab for my wallet as it pulled up in front of a plain yellow house, my hands more than a little shaky. The address matched the folded up letter in my pocket that I’d memorized while in jail. The letter contained two more words in flowery handwriting:Done. ~Kay
I had no idea who this Kay lady was, or what she looked like, but a woman opened the door of the yellow house as I walked up the sidewalk and gave me a stern once-over with her arms folded across her chest. She wore sweatpants and a stained T-shirt, and her blonde bangs matched the little boy’s who bounded up next to her. He had a high-heeled shoe sticking out of his mouth. Weird kid.
The woman rested a protective hand on top of the boy’s head, but her uncertain gaze never left me. I could guess why. My mug shot had graced every major television news site for weeks. The rest of my family...well, that would always taint how people saw me for the rest of my life, even if they didn’t know me. Especially if they didn’t know me. I didn’t expect her to throw open her door and invite me to play shoes with her son. Still, I wasn’t used to being judged with such a critical eye. This would take some getting used to.
The woman’s eyebrows disappeared behind her bangs. “Sam?” She drew my name out, like she’d been waiting for me to say or do something other than stand there.
“Yeah,” I said and stuck my hands in my pockets like some awkward-ass freak. Like some awkward-ass freak who’d just been released from jail and was standing on a stranger’s porch with no direction to go but up. Because like my sister Mademoiselle Goldfinch, I had hit rock bottom, too. And right then, Kay was part of my springboard. I gave her a smile I hoped would put her at ease. “Kay, right?”
She nodded, and thank Jesus, her harsh expression faded some. “It’s about time you got here.”
