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“Yeah. Get out.”

“Why?”

“I gotta do something.”

“Shit?”

“No.”

Lowering his voice, he asks, “Shoot up?”

What the fuck? Where’d he come up with that shit? I’ve never injected anything into my body and I’m not about to start now.

“Jesus Christ, Dex. I just need to make a call.”

“Oh.” He gets to his feet but makes no move to leave. “You’re going on any minute.”

“I know, so fucking go.”

He scoffs but finally crosses the room.

“Tell Kota I said ‘hi.’”

“Tell your mom I said ‘hi,’” I counter.

Opening the door and lingering at the threshold, he says, “Susan would love that. You haven’t been by the house lately and she misses you.”

“If only she had a son to comfort her.” I gesture for said son to get the fuck out already.

As soon as he’s gone, I hit the Call button.

“What’s wrong?” I demand the second Kota answers.

She laughs. “Nothing.”

“Then why’d you say you were fine?”

“Because I am.”

“Fine is code for something’s wrong and you just don’t want to say it.” According to my dad anyway.

A long, suffering sigh comes through the speaker and I shake my head. That motherfucker was right.

“I’m coming home.”

“Why? It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Saying she’s fine again doesn’t make it any more believable. Saying it three times is even worse.

“Kota.”

“What?” she whimpers.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just… I hate it when it’s like this. No one’s here and the house won’t shut up.”

Our parents won’t be home until tomorrow, not that I believe either of them are any sort of comfort to anyone other than themselves. But I can see why Kota likes having another person in the house, at the very least to have someone to blame all the noise on. The mansion creaks a fuck-ton even when the weather’s calm, and tonight’s windy as hell.