How I could stick it out at the frat since my freshman year is a medical mystery. Surely I should’ve burst a blood vessel or seven. It makes me furious that I went through all that for fucking nothing. When my last semester is finished, I’ll still be trapped in this shithole of a town—and way too close to the monsters that raised me.
Ezra’s gaze slides to Haven, and his scarred mouth twists. “Jesus, you broughther?”
“Language!” Mom snaps.
Haven’s chin lifts. “Nice to see you too, Ezra.”
He stalks toward the table, tosses his phone down, then drops into an empty chair and sprawls back. When my mom dishes up some turkey for him, he shoves away his plate with a grimace.
“Roaches wouldn’t eat that shit.” Then he glances over at Haven and gives her a lopsided smile. “No offense.”
“Fucking asshole,” Haven mutters, dropping her fork along with the pretense of eating the dehydrated Thanksgiving dinner.
“Is Dad coming or not?” I ask my mom.
I need to know if I still have time for my ‘fuck what you think, I love her’ speech, or if we’re going to be interrupted again.
Also, I’m not sure I can handle my father tonight. I’m sure whatever I tell Mom she’ll relay to him…unless she’s so fucking delusional she won’t even remember I was here.
Ezra lets out an ugly laugh. “Richie? Not a chance. He’s balls deep in his secretary. Has been for months.” He reaches across the table and snags a bread roll, tearing into it with his teeth. “He never comes home anymore. Not even if you ask himnicely.” There’s an edge to my brother’s voice, a kind of petulance I can’t wrap my head around.
Almost like he wanted Dad to be here…which makes zero fucking sense.
It explains why Ezra moved back in.
He wouldn’t risk it with Dad around.
“Stop making up stories, Ezra,” Mom says, her expression placid as she sips her wine. “Your father has a demanding job. Just because he works late sometimes?—”
My brother snorts. “Yeah, poor Richie. Such a hard worker.So muchovertime…in his secretary’s pussy.”
“Ezra!” Sharon snaps.
“You gotta face facts, Sharon.” He gestures at our mother with the bread roll, his other hand is still in his pocket. His pocket bulges as if he’s fisting his hand. Or maybe holding onto something inside. “Dad’s having an affair. And Tyler will never, ever be home for dinner.”
Sharon’s smile crystalizes. “Would anyone like more wine?” she asks in a wobbly voice.
Haven’s grip on my knee has turned bruising. I can feel her leg bouncing with the urge to run, and honestly, I’m right there with her.
But I can’t stop staring at that extra place setting. At the empty chair my mother keeps glancing at like she’s expecting someone to materialize.
“Seriously. Who the fuck is Tyler?” The question comes out hoarse.
Ezra pauses mid-chew, his eyebrows rising. “Jesus.” He shakes his head, genuine surprise flickering across his scarred face. “I knew you were oblivious, bro, but this is impressive even for you.”
“Just fucking tell me,” I grate out.
Ezra leans back in his chair, studying me with the cold, calculating look I remember from childhood. The look that always preceded something painful.
His eyes are red-rimmed and a little glazed. Because he’s high? Maybe he was on his way outside to light a joint when he saw us in the dining room and did a detour.
I know my brother used to be into coke a while back, but he’s not agitated enough. Must be weed, or maybe he’s still on painkillers.
Either way, something isn’t right about him tonight, and it’s fucking me up. I’ve learned how to be around my brother without feeling like I’m going to have a panic attack, so it’s not just his unexpected arrival.
“Ezra—” I prompt when he just keeps staring at me.
He shrugs, glancing off as the hand in his pocket relaxes. “Remember when Mom got really fat, back when you were in elementary school?” he asks. When he looks at me again, there’s a gleam in his eyes, like he’s savoring the moment.
