I slip my hand into hers, offering her reassurance. She looks up at me, her frozen gaze meeting mine, and the smile I give her is true and genuine—it’s mine. We’re in this together. I’m right here. I’ve got her.
The elevator doors ping open again, and I lead Eden out of the building and into the cab that is waiting for us outside. My hand never leaves hers, and we climb into the backseat together. The cab driver doesn’t question us on why Eden is barefoot, or why we look like we’ve been out all night, or why our clothes most likely stink of booze. I think the driver herself is hungover, and she seems to repeatedly make wrong turns, dragging out the dreaded ride home. Eden and my hands are still intertwined in her lap, and I’m rubbing soft circles on the back of her hand with my thumb. Sure, our parents may kill us, but last night is so worth any punishment.
When we finally get back to the house, we don’t go inside immediately. We are mentally preparing ourselves. “Where did you tell them you were going last night?” I ask Eden.
“The movies,” she says.
Oh, shedidn’t. Even though I’m anxious about heading inside, I can’t fight my laughter. “The movies? Where’s your originality?”
Eden purses her lips at me, narrowing her eyes. I love it when she does that. “What was your excuse?”
“They didn’t get one,” I say. “I left before they could notice.”
“Well that doesn’t surprise me.”
We take a deep breath, muster up some courage, then head into the house together. It is silent apart from the sound of the TV. Cautiously, we enter the living room. Mom is on the couch, intensely studying a bunch of papers in her hands, and Jamie is watching TV while he rests his fractured wrist on a pillow. He turns to look at us, glaring.
At first, I don’t think Mom has even noticed us, but then she loudly calls out, “Dave, they’re home,” in a hard tone without even looking up from whatever the hell it is that she’s reading. She’s pissed. I can hear it in her voice.
Dave comes storming down the hall and into the living room within seconds. It’s early Sunday morning, and he’s wearing fucking sweatpants. He throws himself in front of us and barks, “What do you have to say for yourselves?”
“The movie was good?” Eden offers up as an answer. I give her a firm look. She shouldn’t even to attempt to lie her way out of this, because that reply was honestly far from believable.
Dave grits his teeth and places his hands on his hips, his stance threatening. Or at least as threatening as it can be in those sweatpants. “You two went to that beach party, didn’t you?”
Mom glances up from her papers. I don’t even waste my breath answering Dave, because he and Mom aren’t oblivious. The entire city would have known about the party, and it is not hard to figure out that we were most likely there.
Suddenly, Eden bursts into tears by my side, and my gaze flicks over to her in surprise. “My friends took me there after the movies,” she blurts out through tears, though I know her different tones so well by now that I realize she isn’treallyupset. I don’t know what she’s doing, but she keeps on going, forcing herself to cry even harder. Is she hoping her dad will take pity on her? “I didn’t even know what it was!”
God, she is so bad at this. It’s almost embarrassing. I need to stop her from digging herself a deeper hole, so I release the sigh I’m holding and fix my attention back on Dave. “I chose to go,” I admit nonchalantly. I shrug at him, narrowing my eyes. When I talk to Dave, I am talking to him as Tyler Bruce. It’s second nature. “What are you gonna do? Ground my ass for another five years?”
Dave eyeballs us both as his nostrils flare. Eden is still dramatically sobbing next to me, and Mom watches silently from the couch. She’ll be mad at me too, but it seems today, she is choosing to just stay quiet. Maybe she feels as though she’s yelled at me enough for one week.
“Where have you been all night?” Dave questions, seemingly letting my remarks slide.
“We all crashed at Dean’s place,” I answer before Eden can. I don’t want her babbling more pitiful excuses. At least mine are believable. “Just chill out. It’s summer.”
“Oh,” Dave says as his eyes widen. He blinks fast for dramatic effect and gives us a smile full of sarcasm. “My bad. I forgot that it’s summer, so that means you can do whatever the hell you want. Sincerest apologies.” In the background, Jamie is snickering. Dave exhales, shaking his head as his scowl returns. “This isn’t the first time you haven’t come home, Eden.”
“It’s just sleepovers,” Eden innocently mumbles.
“That’s not the point!” he yells.
“Then what is?” she fires back at him.
Dave can’t answer her. He only glares at her, his lips moving as though he’s trying to find the words to reply, the veins in his forehead popping. He looks at me instead. “You’re impossible, so I’m not even going to say anything. Just go upstairs. Get out of here.” He shoots Jamie a look too, one that probably asks for privacy, because Jamie gets to his feet.
“Fine by me,” I say casually. I don’t need Dave yelling at me anyway. Eden is looking at me, her features still tight with worry, and I give her a reassuring smile. She’ll be okay. If she can handle me, then she can definitely handle her dad. As Jamie crosses the living room, I throw my arm around his shoulders and leave the room with him. “How’s that wrist, kid?”
“Broken,” Jamie deadpans, and I laugh as we head upstairs together. I would have answered the exact same way when I was younger. “Can you stop staying out all night? Mom hates it. We don’t know if you’re alive or dead.”
I frown. Sometimes I forget that at the end of the day, Iamonly seventeen. All of this disappearing will send Mom into a mental breakdown eventually. She is staying strong for now, but I hate that I test her patience so much. “I know she does,” I say with a sigh, then give Jamie a tight smile as I squeeze his shoulder. I wish I could do better. I wish I could offer them more.
Jamie disappears into his room and slams the door behind him with just enough aggression to get the memo across that even he is growing frustrated with me. My fourteen-year-old fucking brother. Why do I keep doing this to them?
“I’m sorry,” I say out loud in the hall, but there is no one around to hear my apologies.
With my head low, I make my way into my own room and collapsedown onto my bed. Even though I didn’t drink much at all last night, I can feel a pounding headache beginning to form. I check my phone, but the battery is dead. I hook it up to charge and then get to my feet, pulling off my shirt and throwing it to one side as I head into my bathroom. I feel as though I need to shower all over again. I feel…I don’t know. Guilty, I guess. Last night was wrong and for more than just one reason.
