all the curtains came down. Everything I’d hoped he’d never know about me reared its ugly head. He saw the worst of it, right there on display in our living room. While the Transformers saved the world on the TV behind me, I crushed Sherm’s world right in front of his eyes. I turned from the big brother he always looked up to into a monster in less time than it took me to snap that goon’s neck.
I trudge down the stairs, head to the beach, and run again.
I’m used to being in total control. If I needed something done, I gave the order and it was done. This waiting, I have no idea what to do with. I’ve got to get back to Chicago, take back what’s mine. I’ve got to show Pop I can handle the business—that I’m ready to take over. But if I do that now, it’s a suicide mission. Me getting my head blown off the second I set foot in O’Hare airport isn’t going to help my family.
I run and think. By the time I’m climbing the bluff back to the house, I’ve got my plan. A plan that could work with me and three guys.
When I hear an earsplitting rumble from up near the house, my heart leaps into my throat. I sprint up the path just as the noise cuts out. When I crest the driveway, Grant is tugging off a skull cap helmet. Next to him is a tricked-out Harley Low Rider.
“What the fuck?” I say, storming over to him.
He smirks at me. “Language, Rob.”
“What did you do?” I ask, keeping the building rage out of my voice.
“I bought some transportation. Got it off a guy cheap. What’s the big deal?”
I give him a quick shove right in the center of the chest, knocking him into the bike. “The big deal is, you might as well have just painted a sign on your forehead that says ‘notice me!’”
He rolls his eyes. “Everyone drives Harleys. No one’s going to notice me.”
“I’m glad you think this is just some fucking game, Grant. Glad none of this is cramping your style.”
He huffs out a humorless laugh, his disdained-filled glare fixed on me. “My style? I’ve got no fucking style, Rob. I’ve got shit. You made sure of that when you dragged us off to this fucking hellhole. This is one piece of my life that I can get back, and you’re not taking it from me.”
The vise on my chest tightens. He’s right. I’ve taken everything from him. A bike isn’t really hurting anything. If it will help him get through this, then I need to back off.
I hold up my hands. “Fine. Keep the bike. But, Grant . . .” I shove a hand through my hair. “It’s really important that you don’t piss anyone off here. No fucking the locals.”
He jams his helmet onto the end of a handlebar, turns for the house. “I’m not fucking anyone, thanks to you.”
He slams through the front door and leaves me staring after him.
This family is going to implode if I don’t get them out of here soon.
Chapter 6
Adri
I’m up before the sun, as usual, but the whole time I’m running, all I can think about is Sherm’s essay. It hit a little too close to home. So, today, I take the southern loop. The one I usually avoid.
There’s pink on the horizon and the world feels like it’s waking when I reach the spot. My feet slow, then stop. When I see the flowers at the base of the tree, still fresh, I know Dad has been here. Nine months later, there’s still a scar in the bark, a thick gouge exposing the tender heart of the tree. It looks like I feel every time I think of Mom.
Dad won’t talk about what happened. We rarely talk about Mom at all. But just a few months ago Sergeant Dixon told me that, when he first arrived on the scene, he thought Len Boyd, the owner of the market in town, had hit Mom while she was out for her run, then veered into the tree. It turns out, he’d swerved to avoid her where she lay collapsed in the road. It was one of those freak things, I guess. She was healthy. Didn’t drink. Never smoked. They say most people who have aneurisms don’t even know it. Mom was one of them.
I sink to the gravel at the side of the road and sit