Parker’s cheeks perk with his smile and emotion washes over me, the thankfulness of having him for a brother filling my heart and soul. I think of everything I have because of him. All that I’ve learned from him. How truly lucky I am to have been gifted him as a brother. I could never have done this life alone.
“What?” He laughs after a minute.
I shrug. “Thanks for being my brother, P. I really love you.”
“As if I had a choice,” he chuckles, but when his eyes find mine, they’re as warm as ever. “I love you, too, weirdo.”
“Hey, if I’m weird, it’s because I learned it from you. Just like I learned about romancenovels—”
“Hey, don’t tell people that.”
I laugh. “And rock music. And jazz. And how to parallel park without crying and stalling out.”
Parker barks out a chuckle. “You criedonetime.”
“Threetimes,” I correct. “But I appreciate the deletion of the others from your memory.” He laughs again. “You’re always there for me. Always sticking with me through my crazy."
“True. Very true.” He glances over at me with his big brother gaze. “You stick with me, too.”
“Always have, always will,” I sing. He winks, and my heart is warmed by a love only a brother could give. My eyes sting, and my throat gets tight. “I’m gonna miss you, P,” I say with a feeling I can’t really place. It’s sadness mixed with pride and a little bit of something else I’m not really sure of. Fear, maybe.
“I’ll be back in a week. We just need to get the place settled, and then I’ll come back for you, and everything will be good, okay?”
“I know.”
P and Jamie are leaving tonight for St. Augustine. No one knows but me—because I’m going with them. Dad has only gotten worse, and P says we can’t stay here any longer. I don’t deny it, but I still feel bad to leave our dad behind.
“He doesn’t need us, Alana,” P says, answering my thoughts.
I shake my head, picking at my chipping nail polish. “I know, it’s just…”
“He’s never gonna get better. He doesn’t want to. I know the accident isn’t his fault, but everything that’s happened since then is.”
“He didn’t want to get addicted to pills, P. He tried not to take them.”
“I know.” He pauses thoughtfully. “But that doesn’t excuse everything else.” I turn my head to face him. My eyes lower to the long, whitescar along P’s ear. The one he got when Dad cracked him over the head with a table lamp. My gaze shifts to the circular burn marks scattered up and down his arm—all the times our father put a cigarette out on him.
I’ll never let him hurt you, he used to tell me.I’ll always keep you safe.
A knot forms in my throat, and I have to swallow it down. P is right. We can’t stay here.
“I’m scared to be home without you. I’m scared to be alone,” I admit with a shiver in my small voice.
“One week, Lana. I promise. It’s gonna go quick, trust me. You just keep your head low. Go to school and straight to your room, okay? You lock the door like I taught you, and you just stay quiet in there. He’ll probably forget you’re even home.” P takes a deep breath. “Seven days. And then we’re free.” His ice blue eyes glance over, and I nod in acceptance.
We take a few turns down backroads, different from our usual way home. A left down a winding street, then a right onto another. We’re a few minutes into the drive before I realize I don’t recognize these roads.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“Derek said there’s a checkpoint on Duclos Ave. to watch out for.”
“Mm-hmm, and of course, Romeo can’t make it home without a kiss from his Juliet.” I watch the smile break onto P’s face, and my heart flutters for him—for the love I know he’s in. For the real life romance I get to see him have. For the happily ever after he’s so very close to.
“Shut up,” he mutters, but there’s fondness in the words.
I giggle, tucking my feet under me as I settle more comfortably into my seat beside him. Nat King Cole’s “What’ll I Do”takes hold of the stereo.
I’m hummingthe opening tune when striking red and blue lights illuminate before me. Parker begins to slow the car.
