His shoulders relax. “Thanks,” he says. “I mean it. Not just for this but for taking care of Daisy, for being here for me during these rough months. I take you for granted sometimes, but I never fucking forget that you’re the reason I’m sober.”
I actually smile. I think my face says it all. Sometimes it’s hard to tell that he cares, and when moments like this come, the tough parts don’t seem so fucking bad. It’s worth everything.
We stand at the same time and head to the mailbox again, letting go of the heavy shit before we run.
“Five miles,” Lo says jumping up and down to warm his blood. “You’re not beating me this time, big brother. Watch yourself.”
I stumble on his use of “big brother”—said with endearment. Somewhere along the way, I’ve earned the title. That feels fucking good.
“Hey you, staring off into space, did you hear me?” Lo asks, waving his palm at me.
I smack his hand away. “You have a lacrosse stick lying around? I like my fucking legs, so don’t break them.”
Lo spreads his arms out. “No cheating. Fair race. I expect a fucking trophy when I beat your ass at your own sport.”
“Fat fucking chance.”
And then we both look at each other, no countdown. We just take off at the same time.
Our paces are mimicked. Stride for stride. Leg for leg. Step for fucking step. He runs right beside me, our rhythm exactly the same. He pumps faster, and I push harder. Matched.
My breathing steadies and my head feels light. When I look beside me, for the first time, I don’t see that weight on my brother’s chest. I don’t see anything tugging him backwards.
He’s fucking smiling.
The sun streams through the trees, our distance shortening with each step. Pride, for him, consumes me.
And it’s at four miles in—when he leaves my side and takes five lengthy strides ahead—that I know.
He’s going to outrun me.
< 70 >
DAISY CALLOWAY
“Oh my God, it’s cold,” Lily complains, hugging one of Rose’s white fur coats tighter around her tiny frame. Along with her Wampa cap, she looks like a little furry creature. Totally huggable. Which is why I have an arm around her shoulders, taller than my older sis.
Our breath smokes the air, standing in two feet of snow that blew in yesterday. We hide behind a fir tree in the front lawn. Or as Lily likes to call it: the big ass Christmas tree.
“I agree,” Rose says, so cold that her bones have frozen her into a rigid stance.
“I offered you my sweats,” I remind her. She’s in black tights and a maxi dress that soaks in the snow. Her booties are completely sunken in the white powder. My outfit isn’t better. I slipped on the shoes by the door in my haste to pull my sisters outside quickly.
They were flip-flops.
Let’s just say the chill is most definitely creeping in, and my numb toes scream for a warm bath.
Rose gives me a look at my comment, and I think she would put her palm to my face like don’t even. But she’s too cold to stretch her arms past her sides.
“I promise this is going to be worth the pain,” I say with a big smile. I reach out and shake both of their arms playfully. I love that I have more time left with them, and Lily shares my smile like it’s contagious.
Rose rolls her eyes. But I swear the corner of her lips lift. She takes out her cell, and Lily reaches over me to grab it, but she’s too far away. Rose easily clutches the phone to her chest.
“This is a stealth mission, Rose,” Lily whispers.
I snatch the phone out of Rose’s hand and pass it to Lily, who starts checking her texts.
Rose sets her hand on her hip. “Why are you whispering?” she snaps. “There’s no one here but us.”
Lily gapes at the screen. I lean over her shoulder and see a series of texts back and forth between her and Connor. “You couldn’t leave his texts unanswered for an hour?” she asks.
“He was annoying me,” she retorts. “My voice had to be heard.”
My own phone buzzes in my jeans, and I check it quickly.
Will you be coming to the luncheon on Sunday? – Mom
A pit forms in my stomach. I text back: Yeah, but Ryke is coming with me.
I wait a couple seconds since she usually replies quickly, but my phone stays silent. Every time I stop by the house, she refuses to acknowledge Ryke. I think she’s partly embarrassed by what she did with the cops, and she’s too proud to admit fault.
So she’s sticking to her guns.