Walked right into that one. “No. I’ll go heat something up after they go to bed. It’s fine, Brady. I promise.”
He chews on his lip, something he does when he starts to obsess about something, but eventually he relents. Gorgeous hands the phone back, but it sounds like he doesn’t leave. “Okay, but text me before you go to bed so I know you’re all right.”
Missing him hits me like a truck. I’m so glad he got to get out, but I hate that he left me behind to do it. We’d never been apart until he moved to Washington, and it’s so far away. I’d give anything to have another late night with my brother while I doodle on his walls and he gets to mother hen me up close.
“I will.”
Brady sighs, like even that little promise took a huge weight off his shoulders. “Okay. Well, I’ll let you go for now, but don’t forget to text me tonight, and I’ll call you tomorrow when my last class is over.”
“’Kay. Love you.”
He says he loves me too before we hang up, and when my phone goes dark, I clutch it to my chest and try to blink back the burning behind my eyes. My head is spinning, both from meeting the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen and the weight of not telling Brady that things at home are falling apart without him.
It’s not like telling him would help anything except maybe making me feel a little better in the moment. But I’ve still got four years here, so it's a marathon. If I tell Brady how Mom and Dad are getting tangled up in weird internet theories, making less and less sense by the day, he’d worry himself into an ulcer and probably drop out of school to try and get me out of here. He can’t do that. That’s not the plan that we’vehad stored in our back pockets all these years. Brady goes to college first, graduates, and wherever he lands a job is where I’ll apply. That’s how we both break free and start a decent life. He planned it that way for us.
I’m not going to ruin his plans because our parents suck. That’s just what they’d want: one or both of us falling on our asses so we have to move back home and they can dig their claws in deeper. It’s not a big deal that Dad isn’t going to work most days and Mom stopped cooking all together. They’re grown-ups; if they want to eat frozen meals and spend all day on their phones, it’s no one’s business but theirs. I’m doing fine. She still makes sure there’s food here most of the time, and I know how to cook well enough to survive.
And plus, they’re still going to church twice a week, so things can’t be that bad. I’m probably overreacting. When Brady comes home for Christmas, everything will be fine. He’s the golden child and they won’t miss a chance to make things special for him. And I’m sure a lot of parents go through a weird phase when their kids start moving out.
~~~
“Get some sleep, kid,” Brady mutters tiredly. I feel bad, he insisted I come paint in his room, but I think I took on a bigger project than he bargained for.
Frowning, I turn around. “I can go to my room?”
He shakes his head, eyes still closed against the light. “Nope. But come to bed already, will you?”
To make his point even further, he pats the bed beside him. It dissolves the last of my resistance. “All right,” I relent.
When the lamp is off, and I’m settled on my back, Brady peeks his eyes open. “Merry Christmas, Eas.”
I smile into the darkness. “Merry Christmas.”
My brother flips over so we’re laying shoulder to shoulder. “Something weird happened today,” he admits. Maybe I wasn’t the only thing keeping him from sleeping soundly.
“What?”
His voice is so soft when he speaks, careful not to disturb our little bubble of peace. “Dad offered me money to drop out of Ivory. Like, a lot of money.”
Panic hits like a bucket of cold water. He can’t come back here; he’ll know if he comes back. Mom and Dad can’t fake it for that long. “Are you going to take it?” I ask slowly, trying to keep my voice even.
I feel more than see it when he shakes his head. “Nah, I like Ivory and you’d love it up there. But it was really odd that he offered it.”
Given the current state of this household, it wasn’t really as out of place as he thinks. But we spend so much of his breaks from school either holed up in his room or out of the house that he hasn’t noticed the deterioration yet. Hopefully he never will.
“That’s not a part of the plan,” I mumble.
Brady scoffs. “Not even close to the plan. He’s going to have to figure something else out.”
That might be the best sentence I’ve ever heard, all things considered. I know Brady is free of their manipulation, and we can both wash our hands of this place—if I can just finish high school. “How’s your roommate?”
He chuckles. “Mmm. Should I even ask why it’s the middle of the night and you’re asking about my best friend?”
My cheeks flush, but I refuse to let him know how dead-on he was about that. “I’m a nice person; it’s polite to ask about your life and that involves Chase.”
“Mm-hmm. Yeah, okay. Well, to answer your question, Chase is miserable in Chicago. No worries, he’ll live, but he’s never thrilled about unending family time.”
I snort a laugh, just because it sounds so familiar. “I’m on his side there.”
