He nods and lifts his phone.
There’s only so much sibling interaction we can manage before things start to crumble.
I lock myself in my room and take a deep breath.
Eli’s back in town. Mom’s lost touch with reality. Dad’s absent.
Everything is fine. What a way to kick off senior year, huh?
6
Eli
My first instinct was to go to Riley. The jig is up, anyway. I knew it the moment I stepped into the tattoo shop—even before then. I’m impressed with my self-control, because I stayed home.
Mom took the news better than expected, and she agreed with Dad about a job. Her eyes were already lit up, thinking of the great connections I could make working in a law office or something.
Dumb shit.
I’m not going to waste my year of freedom filing papers in an office.
“Dad gave me the week,” I told her. “I’ll find something.”
I have a few things in mind, but that can wait.
Today… today we’re on a mission.
I catch a ride with Dad into the city in the guise of applying for jobs in person. Instead, I hop in a taxi and head to Caleb’s apartment.
It’s still early. There’s fog again, but the sun already peeks through when I arrive. I can appreciate how hard Dad works—he gets to the office as the sun is rising and doesn’t head home until the evening. Plus an hour commute…
We had a little get-together here before Theo, Liam, and I went off to college—clearly it only stuck for those two. That was the first and last time I was at his place, but it’s fine: I remember the way.
I bang on their door.
Nothing.
My phone reads seven a.m., which I suppose is a bit early.
I hammer on the door harder, continuously.
It swings open mid-knock, and a scowling Margo glares up at me.
She really came into her own against Caleb’s siege. It was impressive, if a bit daunting. Her whole relationship—the beginning of it, anyway—brought back memories of Riley my sophomore year.
Her scowl fades, and puzzlement overtakes her. “What are you doing here?”
I stride into the apartment, and she moves out of my way.
Good thing, too, because I’m not in any sort of mood to slow down. “Where’s Caleb?”
“Sleeping,” she grumbles. “Like I was just a few minutes ago—”
I shake my head. “Sleep is for the weak.”
Caleb opens the bedroom door. As soon as he sees me, he rolls his eyes. “The fuck, dude?”
“I dropped out,” I announce. I fall onto their couch.
The apartment really is quite cozy. It’s a blend of their styles, and it feels like they both have equal footing here. An interesting change to Emery-Rose’s halls.
“I’m going back to bed,” Margo grumbles. “You deal with him.”
Caleb sits. His gaze is fastened to me, and he waits.
The bastard is good at waiting me out.
“I just couldn’t do it,” I say. “It was too much.”
“Was your dad pissed?”
“He wants me to get a job.” I cross my arms. “I’m rethinking everything. And now that I’m back in Rose Hill…”
“Riley?” Caleb asks.
“I can’t scrub her out of my mind.” And it’s pissing me off. Only a small part of me wants to forget about her—the part that applied to college in Maine and actually went there—but the rest of me hums with electricity around her.
Not that she knows I’ve been around her, per se.
He sighs. “Me telling you what to do has never ended well. So… what are you going to do?”
I avoid his gaze. “Find a job. Figure out what the hell I want to do with my life. And… Yeah, maybe I want to see Riley suffer a bit after what she did.”
He snickers. “Maybe, huh?”
Is that my main reason for coming home?
“I hate that she betrayed my whole fucking family right under my nose, and we didn’t find out for months. What kind of fuckery is that?”
“Maybe she wanted to hurt you,” Margo offers from the door. “Since you hurt her first.”
“I didn’t hurt her.” I scowl. “Is that what she said?”
“That’s what I know,” she says. “She wouldn’t tell me what happened.”
I raise my eyebrow. “Even now? You have no idea. I’m supposed to accept that?”
Caleb makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Easy, man.”
Margo narrows her eyes. “What did she even do?”
I stand, not ready to admit Riley’s treachery to her best friend. I am coping with a weird combination of emotions, and they twist like fighting snakes in my stomach. I need to get home and work out this anxious energy.
“I need to talk to you privately,” I say to Caleb. I eye Margo. “Don’t you have class or something?”
She snorts. “Not at seven. And if you want private, keep your voice down.”
The door slams behind her, and Caleb grins.
“She’s cute when she’s mad,” he murmurs.
“Okay, great. Moving on…”
He leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “What’s up?”
“I need you to keep an eye on my dad.”
He snorts, then seems to realize I’m serious. “Wait. Why?”
I lift one shoulder. Years of being a defense attorney’s son has instilled a sense of confidentiality in me. No speaking about clients—even alluding to them has been forbidden. When Caleb moved in, Dad’s business moved totally to the office. They didn’t want to give his uncle any reason to revoke their guardianship.
Before that, though, it was less clear. The line between personal time and work was blurry. And he made sure to know I couldn’t talk about those late-night visitors.
So now, as I’m trying to speak into existence the gravity of Riley’s betrayal, my mouth is dry. I can’t get it out.
“You’re worried,” he says.
I nod.
There are things Caleb won’t tell Margo—not because he doesn’t want to, but because they’re not his secrets to tell. I made sure of that. He motions for me to follow him out the door. We go to the stairwell at the end of the hall and up, all the way to the roof.
It brings flashbacks, but I push them away.
Now’s not the time to remember.
Later.
“Okay,” he says, leaning against the ledge. Manhattan in the distance is half-hidden by the fog, but the sun is already forcing its way through. “Speak.”
“I want to kill her.” I slap my cheeks. “She’s in my head like a fucking itch I can’t scratch, and it’s driving me crazy.”
“She’s why you came home.”
I grip the cement blocks. The sharp corner bites into my palms, bringing back a speck of reality. “I couldn’t…”
“Yeah.” He crosses his arms. “Well, you’ve always been…”
I raise my eyebrow.
“Obsessive,” he finishes.
I shake my head. It’s true, but my parents liked to call it drive. Fixation with another, prettier name. Better packaging.