trails off, and the driveway fades into a tense stillness.
“Other than being a fuck-up?” Reynolds finishes, voice so flat and lifeless that it chills me.
“I didn’t mean it like—" Emory sighs. “Look, I just know you’re bigger than that. I know it.”
“And if I get caught doing this, then that’s all I’ll ever be.”
“No one is going to find out, that’s the whole point. I’m not dumb, dude. Not anymore.” Emory explains, “In here, there are precautions, okay? Insurance policies. I know what’s on the line here.” Emory shifts on his feet. “Bro, I need to do this. And I really want you to do it with me. It’ll be like old times, you know? Before everything went to shit.” There’s another stretch of silence so long and loaded that I risk another peek.
“Christ, Em.” Reyn’s face is cast to the side, shadowed gaze trained off into the distance. I watch as his fingers flex around the strap of his equipment bag, knuckles going white, and I unconsciously mirror him, tightening my grip on Firefly. There’s something dark and hunted in the curve of Reynolds’ brow. Whatever struggle he’s locked in makes his voice come out low and defeated. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“Yeah,” Emory says, like this much is obvious. “We have some time, no problem.”
I watch them bump fists before Emory walks toward the house, taking the sidewalk on the other side of the bush I’m hiding behind. The cat senses his presence and, being completely over my embrace, squirms right out of my arms.
I watch helplessly as the cat darts away, and now it’s my turn to shoot him a surly, betrayed look. It’s not long before I hear the door to our house open and close. My feet are wet and coated with dirt, and my leg is trembling, struggling to hold my crouch, but I stay there, listening for the sounds of Reynolds’ retreat. I feel the surge of worry seizing my chest as I wait.
What the hell was my brother talking about? It sounded serious.
Like serious trouble.
“Guess old habits die hard,” Reynolds’ low voice suddenly rings out from the driveway. I cast my eyes around, wondering if someone else has arrived. Jerry, maybe. Or maybe he’s just talking to himself. But then, he adds, “Isn’t that right, Baby V?”
I stop breathing, eyes clamping shut in denial.
He sighs, voice is breezy and bored when he says, “I can see your foot.”
My eyes fly open, shooting a glare to my dirty toes. I ascend slowly, carefully, in stages, forcing my bum leg beneath me. When I limp out from behind the bush, I see Reynolds leaning against the truck. His legs are crossed at the ankle, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. His dark eyes sweep over me.
“What are you doing.” This is not phrased as a question.
“Uh.” I pull my sleeves over my fists, gesturing weakly toward the yard. “I was just getting my cat. He had a chipmunk, and I—”
Reynolds is tall and thin, which is probably what makes him so fast on the field. He pushes off the vehicle, bringing himself to full height, and his face is that same shadowy, hard-edged blankness from the other night. “You’re still a bad liar.”
I feel a rush of indignation, Sydney's words floating back to me—your territory—and I pull myself to my own full height. “I’m not lying.”
His face remains emotionless, even as his chest bounces with a silent laugh. “Lesson number one about eavesdropping; it’s all about the cover.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Look,” he says, the light from a distant lamppost bringing his tense features into sharp relief. “I know you’re not happy about me being back. It’s really obvious. And that’s...” He works his jaw for a moment, fingers flexing. “That’s fine. I deserve that. But I’m doing my best here to stay away from you, and let you be. You nosing around like this?” His dark gaze drops to my bare leg, something sharp and troubled in the curve of his brow. “It’s just going to get you hurt again.”
I feel the weight of his eyes on my leg so intensely that I actually stumble back a step, heel dragging across the ground as my muscles lag just a moment too slowly. I breathe in sharply, anticipating the tilt of the fall.
It never comes.
Reynolds, who only a moment ago was ten feet away, somehow manages to leap over the distance, lunging to catch me before I topple backward. His arm around my torso feels