Where We Went Wrong - Kelsey Kingsley Page 0,70

offered my eggs to create an embryo with Greyson's sperm. So, that way, it's as close as they can possibly get to having biological children.”

Nodding, I replied, “No, I get it, but,” I wrinkled my nose, “don't you feel like you're gonna have a baby with your brother's husband?”

She shoved my arm. “We're not like, sleeping together, you moron.”

“I know, but ...” I shrugged. “I mean, whatever, I'm glad you can do this for them, but like, what kinda family tree is that? Greyson's dad married his aunt, and now, he's having a baby with his sister-in-law. So, that kid's gonna be his son and his nephew, or—”

“Can you stop?” Jenna snapped, clearly unamused. “You don't have to be so mean, you know that?”

“I'm not bein' mean,” I insisted. “I'm makin' a joke.”

“Well, you're not funny,” she threw at me before storming off and disappearing behind the kitchen door.

Moe and I were left to handle the impending lunchtime crowd and my sister's anger toward me wasn't helping the already fragile state of my mind. I leaned against the cool, butcher block counter and crossed my arms.

“What the hell did I say?” I asked him.

Moe shrugged, playing stupid. “I dunno, man ...”

“I just don't understand what she's so upset about.”

He sighed, turning from the register to say, “Vin, man, it's not really what you said, even though that in itself was pretty fuckin' ignorant and insensitive, if I'm bein' honest—”

“Whatever,” I mumbled, rolling my eyes while also knowing how right he was.

“You sound really jealous,” he said, cutting to the chase. “All this stuff you're sayin' and doin', man, you just sound resentful and it's rubbin' us all the wrong way.”

“Us?”

He shrugged, then nodded apologetically. “I love you, man, but ... the way you've been ...” He grimaced. “We don't like it, and if I’m bein’ real here, we're worried.”

“Worried because I made a joke about my sister having my brother's baby?” I snickered as the smallest part of me—the one unaffected by grief and depression and nagging addiction—begged to ask him for help.

“Goddammit, man, no! You know exactly what I'm talkin' about!” He stared at me, wide-eyed and bewildered, as he shook his head. “You gotta get your head outta your ass, Vinnie. Before it's too late.”

I pulled my pack of smokes from my apron pocket and clapped a hand over his shoulder. “Well, I'm gonna go have a cigarette. Good talk.” Then, I hurried from behind the counter and rushed outside before he could say anything.

Guilt was a heavy burden to carry and my shoulders were sagging with the load. I couldn't understand how I could be so desperate for their care and affection, while simultaneously pushing them further away. I hated myself. I hated my stupid mouth and stupider brain. I was losing my control and the more I tried to hold on, the more slippery it became.

Cigarettes weren't cutting it.

I groaned, pushing my head back against the building and sucking hard on the cigarette in my mouth. It was tasteless, useless, and worthless, but I sucked and sucked anyway. Filling my lungs with so much smoke that my chest burned.

“Hey, my brother.” I opened my eyes to see an older man in tattered clothes, a guy I remembered seeing Moe with years ago. When he saw he had my attention, he smiled with Jack-o'-lantern teeth and asked, “You got any change?”

I shook my head and gruffly replied, “No, I'm sorry.”

He nodded, bobbing the dirty dreadlocks that framed his pale, weathered face. “No problem, man, it's all good.”

He wiped under his nose, sniffling loudly. One might've thought he was sick, and I suppose in a way he was, but it wasn't with a cold. I’d seen the length of his dirt-crusted pinkie nail and the wild look in his eyes. I swallowed at the temptation and itching need, over and over again, but fuck, it was thick and suffocating.

“Can I bum one of those?” he asked, pointing a finger at the nub of a cigarette in my mouth and wordlessly I nodded, fishing the pack out and handing him a smoke. “Thank you very much,” he said, grinning and putting it behind his ear.

Don't let him walk away, temptation whispered. He's right there, don't let him leave. But I didn't stop him from walking away. I let him walk down the block until the voice in my head screamed too loud and I couldn't take it anymore.

So, I ran.

***

I had given him a hundred bucks for a dime

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