our flights. I had three fucking layovers to get to Newark. I started out like eighteen hours ago. It was fucking brutal.”
That makes me smile.
“Too true. Well…” I pause, looking back at the letter on my bed. Drawing a breath, I turn away from it. “Let’s go downstairs, man. We can get a beer and hang out.”
Grayson is already ahead of me, turning and making his way down the stairs. I follow him, trying to squash the words floating around in my head.
Pancreatic cancer.
The sound of it makes me squeamish. I can’t stop picturing my mom in a hospital bed, wearing one of those thin gowns and shivering. Every step I take is like I’m moving through quicksand.
Summoning all the training that the Navy gave me, I’m just barely able to keep it under wraps. Emotion is lurking under the surface of my veneer though, hot and angry and sad all at once.
When we reach the bottom of the stairs, there is plenty to distract me. Loud rap pours from the living room speakers. The lights are down low, making the press of people filling the living room seem even larger. People are dancing on the couches and leaning up against the walls, talking over the persistent beat.
“Jesus,” is Grayson’s only comment as he pushes into the crush of bodies.
I shout over his shoulder, pointing to where he should go. “Head for the kitchen! That’s where the beer is.”
After a few minutes of nudging our way through the crowd and negotiating for beer, we slip outside onto the back porch. We each bring a couple of cans of beer to avoid having to go back inside just yet. The music fades into the background as I hop up on the porch railing and crack my beer open.
Grayson seems content to lean against the railing, watching the few people who have come out onto the patio carefully. He slurps at his beer.
“Heard anything about Rachel?”
At the sound of his ex-girlfriend’s name, he pulls a face. “No. I mean, I think Olivia says that she’s doing okay. Other than that, though… no.”
“Right on. Maybe that means you’re moving on, then. Maybe you’ll meet some nice hiker on one of the tours you lead and you two will fall in love or some shit.”
Grayson rolls his eyes again. His lips curl up faintly as he takes a sip from the can. “Mhm. How’s your family?”
I blow out a breath. Skirting around talking about my mom, I settle on my little sister. “Well, Eve is living up to her usual Golden Child status by getting herself admitted to Yale two years early.” I roll my eyes. “It makes me wonder if one of us is adopted, because there is no way that Eve and I came out of the same set of parents. She is a total nerd and I’m the idiot that flunked the third grade twice.” I pause. “Maybe we’re both adopted. That would mean neither of us is related to my asshole of a father.”
He chuckles. “You look just like your mom, if your mom was a dude. It seems unlikely that you are adopted.” He swills a little of his beer. “Is your dad still a maniac?”
“Yep.” My smile turns tight. “He’s still a total bastard. Still making money hand over fist. Still cheating on my mom every single chance he gets. And my mom—” I stop for a second, then force the rest of the words out. “My mom is still under the impression that if she just prays enough, she will make him… I don’t even know. Not the piece of shit he is, I guess.”
Grayson’s brows rise at my anguished tone. “I’m sorry, man.”
I scrub a hand over my head, feeling the sharp bristles of my short hair underneath my fingertips. “Let’s change the subject.”
As I say it, a group of drunk girls come out onto the porch. My eyes are drawn to two of them, their grins seeming almost day glow in the fading light of dusk. They are both wearing miniskirts too, showcasing miles and miles of bare tanned skin.
An alarm goes off distantly somewhere in the back of my mind. It alerts me to the way the girls looks at Grayson and me, giggling and whispering.
“Speaking of significant others…” Grayson says, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I should go check on my sister, who’s the closest I’ve gotten to a significant other in years. I’ll be back.”
One of the girls looks me right