Erin McCarthy - Believe

“I understand.” I did. I also understood that Easton was lucky, despite his shithole parents. He had his brothers.

Their bond was a steel cable. Mine with them was more like cooked spaghetti. We were family. They cared. They would help. But the loyalty wasn’t the same, and I was jealous of that, I admit it. I felt alone.

My mom had figured out birth control after me, unlike my aunt. My mom made a point of telling me that once was enough for her and she wasn’t taking any chances of making that mistake twice, unlike Aunt Dawn, who got drunk and forgot condoms existed.

So it was just me.

“I’m going to see about getting a job today, actually. Can I borrow your car for an hour?” I didn’t have anywhere to go. No friends I trusted enough to crash with. But I could always go to the shelter if I had to. I didn’t want to be responsible for Easton ending up in foster care. He was a cool kid. In fact, he kind of reminded me of myself at that age. And hey, I was a cool kid, right? Quiet, weird, prone to random outbursts, but whatever. I was comfortable in my own skin now, which was good, because it was about all I owned.

“Sure,” Riley said, fumbling in his pocket for the keys, looking guilty.

It was obvious he felt bad that he was asking me to go, but I didn’t blame him, and the fact that he had guilt about it gave me a warm fucking fuzzy, I’m not going to lie.

“Aren’t you going to eat before you go?” Jessica asked. “There’s still some leftover Chinese food. I can heat it for you.”

I stared at her for a second, not sure what her angle was. Because there had to be an angle. There always was. “I’m okay, thanks.” I couldn’t imagine standing there while a chick heated up food for me. It was just weird.

But I did gesture to the painting that was propped up on the table against the wall, drying. Robin had managed to paint a graphic of Easton in, like, forty-five minutes. It was just a basic silhouette, but it did look like him, and there was something about the bright pink and yellow that smacked you over the head, but in a good way. “Your friend has talent.”

“Yes, she does. She did that other piece, too, just for fun. We wanted to make it more . . . cheerful in the house.”

Riley laughed. “That’s a polite way of saying it was a dump here, babe. It’s true, isn’t it, Phoenix? Our mothers did not excel at housekeeping.”

That actually made me cough up a rusty laugh. I hadn’t laughed much lately. “That is true, cuz. My mom isn’t much for decorating either.” I actually thought that her reaction to an art piece that spelled out YUM in tiny pieces of old candy wrappers would be to rip it off the wall and toss it in the trash disdainfully. She didn’t like the idea that anyone could be happy or enjoying something. “What does Robin like?” I asked, but it was too obvious.

Two sets of eyebrows shot up, and Jessica’s mouth fell open. “What? Why?”

“Never mind.” I shrugged. It didn’t matter anyway. If she hadn’t answered me in an hour she wasn’t going to.

Jobless, soon to be homeless, with a criminal record and an ex-girlfriend who had stuck me with her cell phone bill before I went to jail, the last thing I needed to be fucking around with was a rich girl who looked like she might cry if I pinched her. Not that I would. Pinch her, I mean. It’s just an expression. She just seemed fragile or something, and it would be stupid. A huge, dumb-ass, fucking idiotic, stupid idea to get involved with her in anyway.

So how come I couldn’t seem to get the image of her bent over that canvas, pursing her plump lips in concentration, out of my head?

Because I was the guy who always ran headfirst into danger, and I usually wound up blacked out and bleeding, on the ground.

But in this case it wouldn’t matter because she wasn’t going to answer.

Riley narrowed his eyes. “How’s Angel?” he asked.

“Pregnant. And no, it isn’t mine. She says she’s only two months along.” I had to admit, my heart had almost stopped for a second when she’d made her announcement. But then I had known immediately it couldn’t be mine because she wasn’t showing at all, and yeah, I was relieved. Because what kind of father would I be? I’d never even touched a baby, and I didn’t know jack about taking care of anything besides my mom’s loser boyfriends when they outstayed their welcome.

“I guess that’s good and bad. Sorry, man.”

I shrugged again. It hurt more when she didn’t see me in jail. It hurt that I had only had one visitor in five months and that had been Tyler, because he’d been there, done that. He knew it sucked.

Feeling suddenly angry, I concentrated on my breathing, slowing it down, drawing it in and out steadily. I made sure my entire body was still, that nothing twitched or shook or jiggled. It was a trick I learned a long time ago, that if I quieted my body, I could quiet my mind and the anger would escape like air from a balloon instead of a firework shooting off.

“It’s no big deal,” I said, which was a lie, and Riley knew it was a lie.

“I’m going in the basement to work out,” he said. “You want to come down and hit the bag with me?”

“I thought you were going on a beer run,” Jessica said, straightening the napkin holder on the counter, stuffed with paper napkins with cherries printed on them. Cherries? For fucking real?

Riley gave her a look. “I changed my mind.”

Of course he had. He knew. “Sure,” I said. “Then I’ll see about a job afterwards if you don’t mind me borrowing the car.”

“Not at all. Come on, let’s break a sweat.”

“Sounds hot,” Jessica said. “Can I watch?”

“You can’t handle all the testosterone we’ll be displaying,” he told her, giving her a teasing pat on her ass.

“Oh, I can handle anything you’ve got,” she said, and her expression wasn’t subtle.

Neither was the flare of Riley’s nostrils. “Later, babe, later.”

I walked out of the room, heading for the basement door. I needed to punch something.

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

It was Robin.

It didn’t even matter what she wrote. The smiley face at the end was enough to have me unclenching my fists.

Not good. Or damn good, depending on how I looked at it.

But just to be sure, and in control, instead of answering, I slammed my fist into Riley’s boxing bag at the bottom of the stairs and felt the adrenaline rush through me.

Only drug I’ve ever needed. Pain.

“Thanks for doing that,” Tyler said to me as he drove me home. “You know, it’s cool for Easton to feel kinda special.”

“Sure. I was happy to do it.” I felt my phone vibrate in my lap, and I pulled it out, seeing it was another text from Phoenix. I hadn’t saved him as a contact yet but I knew it was him. I had sent him a kitten pic back in response to his honey badger video. Just a fluffy white kitten with a black mane of fur around its face. It was the first kitten I found when I did an online search and it didn’t actually say anything. It was just the kitten drinking from a tall glass of milk.

I opened the text. It said, Is this you? I see the resemblance .

Furry? I tapped back.

Milk drinker.

Feeling like I might smile when I shouldn’t, I shoved the phone back in my pocket without responding. But I did ask Tyler, “What’s the deal with your cousin?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is he . . . I don’t know . . . nice?” That wasn’t what I wanted to ask exactly but I didn’t know how to really express myself.

But something about what I said seemed to tip Tyler off. He turned and glanced at me. “Oh, no. No, no, and no. You are not allowed to be interested in my cousin.”