year, and for that reason alone, I’ve never felt prouder or more like the clock is ticking. I need to get him back.
We stop at his favorite pizza spot—Zachary’s. The owner waves us in and pats us both on the back, giving us our regular booth, upon walking in. This is tradition, something we’d be able to do a lot more often, if he lived with me.
“So, what have you been up to?” he asks, between sips of soda.
I shrug, slinging my arm over my end of the booth and bringing my soda to my lips. “Working at the garage. Had to help my neighbor with something yesterday.”
He raises his brow, and before he even asks the question, I’m already shaking my head no, knowing exactly what he’s going to ask.
“Is this neighbor a…girl?”
I pause. “She is.”
“You like her,” he observes, leaning back in the booth.
I laugh. Downright laugh. Ryder, the thirteen-year-old, thinks he can call me out on my shit? Not happening.
“I don’t. It’s actually quite the opposite. She drives me fucking crazy.”
He cackles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, when he does so. I haven’t seen him laugh so easily in a while. For a kid his age, his laughter should come a lot more often than it does now. “You wouldn’t have helped her if you didn’t like her. You never do anything that doesn’t benefit you, or go out of your way to help someone, you don’t care about.”
I sit back, flabbergasted, eyeing my little brother. When the hell did he become so observant? So damn smart?
“You have no clue what you’re talking about, kid.”
Ryder snickers knowingly, proving to me just how much he does, in fact, know. Figuring now is the best time, I dig into my pocket and slide the phone across the table toward him.
“Here, this is yours.”
Ryder’s eyes widen. He glances down at the iPhone, then darts his gaze back up to me. Shock is written all over his face, as though he can’t grasp the reality of his big brother buying him a cell phone.
“I wh-hat? You didn’t have to—”
I rest my forearms on the table between us and lean forward. “Yeah, I did, Ry. I need to know you’re safe. If I can’t get ahold of you through Ms. Wallace, at least, this way, we’ll be able to talk every day. Just think of it as an early birthday gift.”
Ryder’s eyes flash down to the phone, his brows creasing, as he frowns. I watch him closely, wondering if maybe he doesn’t want it. Maybe he doesn’t like it. But then I see it. The tremble in his chin. The way he’s trying to keep his emotions at bay by remaining stoic. I give him a minute to compose himself, not wanting to put him on the spot. I am much the same way when it comes to handling emotions. Bottle it up and keep it hidden from everyone—that is how I’ve dealt with emotions my entire life.
“Thank you, Rome. I…just, thank you.”
When he looks up at me, his eyes are red-rimmed, and my chest squeezes with emotion. I brush the sensation aside and lean forward, jumping into an explanation on how to use the phone. I set up his account for him and downloaded some games and apps already. My number is, obviously, the only one programmed for now, but I have no doubt it’ll fill up soon with his friends’ numbers.
We poke fun at each other and snort at random videos we stumble across on YouTube. I let him get the hang of the phone, while we wait for our pizza.
He sobers for a beat, toying with the disfigured wrapper from his straw. His gaze darts to the iPhone he still hasn’t unclasped from his hand.
“You ever think about Mom anymore? Wonder if she’s okay?”
I freeze, my entire body turning rigid. Straightening on the bench, I rake a hand through my hair, studying my little brother, my response on the tip of my tongue. I want to say the truth—fuck no, I don’t think about that woman in that sense. Sure, I’ll think about her and curse her for fucking us over, but do I worry if she’s okay? Do I care what she’s currently doing in her life? The simple answer is no. I couldn’t really fucking care less what Allison is doing with her life. She could burn in hell for all I care. Yet, as much as I want to say all that to Ryder, I