I narrow my eyes at him. Luke has been acting strange ever since he found my magazine a few weeks ago. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing. You can have mine if I’m ever not around anymore.”
“You mean when you go to college?”
He bites his cheek. “Yeah, that’s what I mean.”
It looks like he wants to say more, but he goes back to teaching me the song. I love learning from him, and this week, I’ve learned more than ever because Luke hasn’t locked himself in his room like he usually does. Maybe he thought I was lonely without Dad here.
I stay up past my bedtime again. Luke promises not to tell.
When I finally get into bed, I look out the window at the moon, confused. It’s been almost two weeks since Dad crawled into my bed. It’s funny, but I’ve gotten used to the smell of him on my sheets. He wears this cologne that makes him smell like peppermint. But Mom washed them a few days ago, and the smell is gone.
I reach into my sleep pants. I can’t help but think about something he always says. “It’s better this way, when someone else does it.”
The thing is I don’t know if it is. It’s different, but better? I’m not even sure I like it. But I don’t like vegetables either, and I’m still required to eat them. My body craves it, though. The buildup, release, and closeness.
Am I crazy to want him to walk through the door? How can I want something that makes me feel bad inside?
I hear a noise across the hall. Sounds like Luke has gone to bed. I stare at the door so long, I don’t know how late it becomes. I get out of bed, the craving between my legs outweighing the warning in my head. I cross the hall and open Luke’s door as quietly as I can. My heart races when I sit on the bed and then crawl in next to him, careful not to wake him. I listen to him breathe for a while.
Then I reach around and grab him there.
A sound comes from him. It’s the sound Sally makes when we leave the house. It’s a small, sad howl.
He bolts upright and turns on the light. He glares at me, looking sick and confused. “What the fuck are you doing?”
He’s looking at me in disgust. I feel stupid because I’ve obviously done something terribly wrong. Will Dad get mad? Will Mom hate me? Will we have to go back to the tiny apartment?
I spring out of bed and race back to my room. He follows, ripping open my door and turning on my light. “Liam, for Christ sake, tell me what’s going on.” He paces in jerky strides. “Does he …” He stops, rubs his eyes, and looks right at me. “Does he touch you?”
I shrug, not knowing what I’m allowed to reveal.
He moves closer, angry. “You know what I’m asking, Liam. Does he fucking touch you?”
I lower my eyes and nod, feeling ashamed.
He falls to his knees, groaning. Then he vomits on my floor.
I hop out of bed. “Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not fucking okay.” He takes deep ragged breaths. “I have to clean this mess up before Mom gets home.”
He leaves and comes back minutes later with spray cleaner and paper towels. He cleans my floor. He gets up to leave.
“Are you mad at me?” I ask, tears in my eyes.
His shoulders slump. “No, Liam, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself. Go to sleep.”
He’s mad at himself? Why? For not letting me in his bed? For throwing up?
When I get up to use the bathroom, I hear something across the hall. Then I slide down the wall until I’m sitting on the floor, and I listen to my older brother cry himself to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-six
Ella
Every night he gives me another small peek into his past. He told me how he became friends with Crew when he was seven and lived down the street from him. About starting a garage band with him when they were teens. Naked Whale—what a funny name for a band. He told me how they broke up when something terrible happened to Crew’s high school girlfriend; and how they formed Reckless Alibi years later.
I’m trying to see Liam from my bed, but I can’t. The clock on the nightstand isn’t illuminated in this hotel, like it is in