I glance at my mirror as I pull onto the street, ignoring comments from the peanut gallery.
Ryke says, “Your worst nightmare is being late to your own fucking party. Isn’t it, Cobalt?”
“Only if the people attending matter,” Connor replies. “If the party was full of carbon copies of you, I’d purposely be two hours late.”
Ryke leans back in his seat. “You’d be the only one at that fucking party because versions of me wouldn’t even go.”
“That’s rude,” Connor says. “But if we’re being realistic here, I wouldn’t even invite one of you to my party. I like my guests to be potty trained.”
They’re giving me a migraine. “You both remember when I asked, ‘hey, who wants to come with me to buy a couple bags of ice at the gas station?’ This…” I take a hand off the wheel and gesture between the two of them. “…isn’t what I had in mind.” I could’ve been on my honeymoon this week, but Lily and I decided not to have one. We’ve spent years alone together, and the moments where we’re living with our friends, with the people we love, and our son—those are the ones that feel like something special. We don’t need to be in an exotic country or on the ocean to experience that.
We just need to be home.
“I wanted out of the fucking house,” Ryke reminds me. Party planning isn’t his thing. We’re entertaining some of the kinder neighbors and their kids in our backyard, as well as our families tonight. Lily had a whole shopping list from Rose, and she forgot the ice.
Rose said the guest list was about fifty. The decorations remind me of parties the Calloways would throw. Fog machines, pumpkins, scarecrows, spider webs, face painting, and apple bobbing.
Connor says lightly, “Should we sing happy birthday instead?”
“That depends…” I switch lanes and turn into the gas station. “Does it also come with a lap dance?”
Connor grins. “I only give those to people I truly love.”
I park the car and turn towards him. “What lucky bastards.”
He unbuckles his seatbelt. “Only one bastard,” he corrects. “I’ll grab the ice. You two stay here.” He leaves me and my brother, shutting the car door behind him.
Ryke climbs up from the backseat to the passenger, a silver plastic bottle of Ziff: River Rush in hand. He drinks the last of the translucent green liquid in one gulp. It’s the number one selling sports drink to date, a flavor that Ryke helped choose after Greg asked.
My brother notices me staring at the bottle. “Blue Squall is being taken off the market in November,” he says. “It’s still fucking strange that I’m the face of anything.”
“You mean after you went to jail?” He was dropped from plenty of sponsorships after the statutory rape rumors, but it was all false.
He nods, setting the bottle in the cup holder.
“It’s been a year,” I remind him. “People forget.”
“Even if we don’t.” His dark eyes rise to mine. “Do you ever think about four years ago, the night we met?”
“The Halloween party?” I vaguely recall. The memory is blurry, some of it black from booze. I can piece apart scenes, but the ones that contain Ryke are practically all shadowed.
“Yeah, the one that Connor invited you to.”
“Sometimes.” My hand falls off the steering wheel. “I can’t remember a lot of it.” I know I fought with guys on the Penn track team because I stole their family’s alcohol. Someone punched me, and Ryke, dressed as Green Arrow, intervened at one point.
Ryke rests his head back. “I think about it almost every fucking day.”
My brows furrow. “What about?”
He looks at me again. “I think about what would’ve happened if I just left you there.”
“I’ll tell you, bro, so you can stop torturing yourself.” I don’t break his gaze. “I would’ve woken up the next morning, kick-started the day with some Baileys, then switched to whiskey and bourbon. Every hour, every damn day, and I would’ve taken down the only girl I’ve ever loved with me.”
His nose flares as he restrains his emotion.
“You saved me, and the way I see it, Rose saved Lily.” In rehab, the counselors told me that I was a real asshole—that I said unconscionable things to people, and that no one should be around me when they’re in a bad place. But I needed someone. Without support, it’d be too hard to stand up and too easy to fall down.