“Sorry, we can handle it,” Elizabeth said in a reconciliatory tone. “We can do better.”
She was trying to save face, but I saw that as nothing more than a mistake. We were all trying to keep a veneer of perfection up, and all of ours was fading to the side, turning into dust and ash faster than we could clean it.So why would you expect Brock to be perfect in this? Why would you expect him to expose himself when you and your own family can’t handle this shit?
I finished my Frosted Flakes without a word. I’d say it was one of the more awkward family breakfasts we had had, but that wasn’t true. Today was atypical, but only slightly; silent breakfasts were the norm here.
I needed to get away. I needed to get out of this house, away from the nonsense. I needed…
I needed something to silence my mind.
I thought about how Brock and Steele—all the guys, actually—had all said that riding their motorcycle was a salvation of sorts, a way to get away from the chaos of the world and to clear the mind. Brock had said after a long night of drinking and smoking, when I would go up and sleep with Steele, he would go on bike rides. Ostentatiously, it was to clear his mind and relax after a night of partying.
Maybe he’d done it so he could cope with his feelings for me and how his best friend had me instead.
Boy, thought of it like that…
I grabbed my car keys and made a beeline for my car. I had sincere doubts that it would do anything to make me feel better. The comparison between being on a bike and being in a basic Toyota was like the difference between being on a roller coaster and a seesaw, but I was desperate for anything to happen.
I drove out of my family’s house and got on I-40.
And I sped.
Not fast, though.
I was still too scared, too confined by my mind to break the rules. Bend them, sure. But like a kid who hit the brakes on a bicycle every time it swerved even slightly off-kilter, I had to bring myself back to what I knew when I got out of line.
I needed…
I needed someone to get me out of this rut. I needed someone to push me so far past the rules I broke them.
I needed to get on a bike.
I needed to indulge this danger a little more.
I just hoped I would get that chance and I hadn’t blown it already.
Brock
It was about ten minutes before eight o’clock when I pulled up to the Bernard Boys’ house. I’d had a long, shitty day, one in which I had to go work at the gas station at a moment’s notice because one employee had failed to show. I didn’t mind the extra hundred bucks in pay, but shit, after a night like last night, I would have much preferred to relax at home, not worrying about customers bitching about gas being five cents a gallon more than it had last week.
But as soon as I got on my bike to head to the house, I felt a burst of energy. This was the moment, I thought, when the six of us would come together, under Cole’s guidance and leadership, to rise and beat back the fucking Bandits once and for all. Everyone in that house would remember what had happened the night before, and no one was going to let it slide by. We hadn’t had a group brawl like that in some time; I had to capitalize on the emotions while I could.
I opened the front door and walked in to see Connor, Zack, and Garrett sitting on a couch, watching some football game. Each of them had a canned Bud Light in their hand.
“Could we look more like a bunch of college kids?” I said.
“We got one right here!” Garrett said. “Should be out partying, but Papa Brock said we have an important meeting.”
“You’ll survive one Saturday night without going out, Garrett,” I said. “Besides, might do you some good. Think your dick might fall off with the number of skanks you’ve slept with recently.”
“Hey, man, when I’m dead, I’ll stop fucking,” he said. “Until then—”
“You’ll be a manwhore,” Connor grumbled.
“Exactly!”
We all shared a laugh—even Connor.
“Never change, Garrett,” I said. “How was the blonde?”
