Sebastian is home when I come back from my new job on Monday evening. He’s sprawled on the couch and has obviously found my hidden stash of booze because a collection of empty bottles decorates the coffee table.

Shit. That motherfucker.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” he slurs, and I wince, because it reminds me of Mom—of Mrs. Lowe and how she’s losing her power of speech.

Whereas her son chooses to destroy his brain on his own.

“Fuck you,” I say without heat, too tired to pick a fight, and head straight to my bedroom.

I start undressing, pulling the sweat-soaked clothes off me. Bartending is hard, but working in a fast-food corner store? Ten times worse. All I want is to take a hot shower and hit the sack.

“You don’t walk away,” Sebastian says from my doorway, making me jump, “when I’m talking to you, asshole.”

“What the hell do you want?”

“Where were you?” He has a suspicious glint in his eyes.

“Work.”

“Load of bull. You start work much later.”

“It’s a new job. I got fired from the other one. Missed too many fucking shifts.”

“Blame it all on the gang, huh?” He makes a face that I guess is supposed to look sad but looks like a sick clown. “Poor old Fen.”

“Goddammit, Seb, fuck you,” I say again, and this time I mean it. I shove at him to go out the bedroom door. “Get out of the way. I need a shower.”

The punch catches me in the kidneys, and I double over. The next one slams into my jaw, and I go down in a heap.

Goddamn. What a fucked-up evening.

“What. Do you. Want?” I see his boots approaching my face, and I flinch away, expecting him to kick me.

But he just stares down at me. “I talked to your girl.”

Ice runs through my veins. “What? What girl?”

“The one you always stuck to like a disease. Gigi.”

“You talked to her?” I sit up, seeing red. “What the hell, Seb? What did you do?”

“Relax. We just talked. Honestly, man, I don’t get what you see in her. Anyway, I told her what an idiot you are. That I don’t need you.”

I use the wall as a crutch to get up and lunge for him, sending him slamming into the wall. “Son of a bitch.”

“I don’t need you babysitting me,” he grunts, and tries to punch me, but I twist away just in time. “I told you, I’m valuable to the gang. I don’t need you breathing down my back. Think I don’t know why you joined, why you’re always there? Guess what: I don’t hold you to that stupid promise, Rett, and neither does Mom. So leave us both the hell alone.”

“You don’t speak for her.” I slam him back again, acid churning in my stomach.

“She never really wanted you,” he spits. “Did you know that? She regretted taking you in.”

“Bullshit. You think you’re gonna, what, break me with this? Think you’re being cruel?” I shake him. “I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t care if she never wanted me. I gave my promise to her as a man, and if you’re a man, a promise counts.” I spit a wad of blood on his boot. “Not that you’d know anything about that.”

He growls, and manages to get a hit in, his fist glancing off my jaw, but I’m too angry to feel any pain right now, physical or otherwise.

“You’ll never talk to Gigi again, hear me?” I grab fistfuls of his sweater and snarl in his face. “Never go near her, or I’ll smash your face in.”

He’s scowling now, his smugness gone. “Get your fucking hands off me.”

With an effort, I let go, giving him one last shake before I do, and he lurches out of my hold.

He crosses the living room, grabbing his jacket on his way, then turns and gives me a rictus of a grin, his teeth bloody. “As for your girl, brother, no promises.”

Opening the door, he gets out, and is gone.

Shit. I grab fistfuls of my hair with both hands and resist the urge throw things and to howl out my anger. I can’t fucking believe he had a “talk” with Gigi, that he had the nerve to come here and gloat about it.

That I wasn’t there to make sure he didn’t hurt her.

He said he didn’t. But the cold fear won’t quit. How can I trust he didn’t touch her? Even if he told me the truth, how can I trust his memory when he’s high most of the time?

Fuck my promise. Why should I protect Seb, when it’s others who need protection from him? When Gigi is at his mercy when I’m not around?

But how can I choose her over the family who took me in?

Can I do that? Dangerous, believing I have a choice, when all this time I knew my place, my purpose. All this time… all these past years I thought my purpose was to take care of my family. That’s what I was spared for, what my life is based on.

If I lose that purpose, what have I got left?

* * *

Over the next days, I keep myself busy, working my ass off at work, cleaning the apartment, working out with the weights in my room. Wearing myself out.

Hoping the fear for her will fade.

But no such luck. Every time I remember Seb’s words, every time I imagine him with her, I feel fucking sick.

And the nightmares that left me alone for a couple of weeks are now back with a goddamn vengeance, rolling me under, drowning me in dark wells with flashing lights and fangs that snag and tear, and screams that never end.

I need this to stop. Mom’s deterioration isn’t helping any with the way my thoughts are spinning, and Seb turning into a real fucking asshole is doing a number on me.

But above all, it’s Gigi, and my worry about her. There’s no way around it, no matter how I try.

I have to check on her, see she’s okay.

Problem is, I don’t even have her number or her address. She never called me, and after last time, the way she looked at me, the way I reacted… Yeah, what did I expect?

Sitting on my sofa, late at night, eating green beans straight from a can and drunk off my ass, I decide to hunt her down. Ask her, dammit.

So although I avoid social media like the plague, I Google her and find her on Facebook. Creating an account takes a few seconds. I put my name as Rett and shoot her a quick message.

‘Did Seb touch you?’

Just that. All I need to know.

Christ, not true, I want to ask if she’s okay, if I could see her again, if we could fuck again. I wanna know if she thinks of me, of my cock inside her, of my mouth on her, of how she came wrapped around me, if she likes me…

I’m so fucked.

And I don’t expect an answer from her, so imagine my shock when she replies what seems like seconds later.

‘He didn’t.’

Good. Fucking awesome. There’s my answer. Now I can sleep at night, right? I should put down my phone and get some rest.

Instead I type, ‘You okay?’

And wait for her reply, breath caught in my throat.

Wait longer.

Wait until I wanna throw my phone against the wall.

‘You joined the gang because of Seb,’ she types.

I stare at the words, my breath coming out in a rush. The hell? What else did he tell her? What is she thinking?

‘Because of a promise to your mom,’ she goes on.

Shit.

I rake my hand through my hair, not sure what to reply. Is there anything to say? She wasn’t asking a question, but it feels as though she was.

‘They’re my family,’ I finally send back. ‘I look out for them.’

It’s the truth.

‘Seb said to stop protecting him.’ She writes. ‘That he doesn’t need you to.’

That motherfucker. ‘I can’t do that.’

I wait, and wait, but she doesn’t write again. The green dot beside her name goes white, which I guess means she’s not online anymore.

Yeah, what else is there to talk about, right? It’s not like we’re friends anymore, or anything else. In any case, she wouldn’t understand. She never had to fight for a family, never had to try so hard to keep them.

Seb and Mom, they’re all I have left.

My excuses feel weak tonight, though, and I lie down on the sofa, stretch my legs and close my eyes, try to remember what it felt like to hope for a better tomorrow, what happiness felt like.

I bet I’d felt it once, with my parents. Even with Connor. Affection. Peace. The sense I belonged, that someone wanted me there.

That I fucking mattered.

* * *

Sleep is creeping up on me, turning my limbs to lead, sinking me into the mud, then floating me down a dark tunnel. Dread fills me.

Tunnels never bring anything good.

“How’s my baby doing?” a woman says. She’s looking at me. My mom. A flash of a smile. Eyes twinkling.

“Hanging on okay back there, buddy?” a man asks, turning to look at me.

Dad.

The car jerks.

A light fills the tunnel.

Someone is screaming.

It hurts. I don’t want this. I wanna go back to before. Go home.

My leg burns.

I don’t know where I am. What happened. It’s so dark, and it hurts so fucking bad, and I don’t know what—

Bang.

Bang.

The car is caving in, crushing me, and I yell for help, but nobody can hear me. I’m covered in blood, and I’m going to die together with them, but I’m still alive.

* * *

The banging grows louder.

“Jarett, goddammit, open the fucking door!” Bang. “Open up, you dipshit.”

Another bang.

Oh fuck me. The door.

“Just a sec.” I roll off the sofa with a groan, rubbing at my face. “Gimme a goddamn minute.”

But Seb doesn’t stop until I drag myself to my feet and stagger to the door to let him in.

“Took you long enough.” He shoves me aside and lurches inside, not any steadier on his feet than I am. “Thought you could leave me outside, huh? Thought I’d let you?”

“Oh shut up.” I bang the door shut, then regret it when the pain in my head spikes. “I was asleep. You woke me up. Where’s your fucking key?”

“Lost it.”

“The hell you did.”

“Can’t remember where I left it.”

“You serious right now? You lost the key?” Headache or not, my voice is rising, like my temper. “Christ.”

“Stop yelling.” He drops down on the sofa where I was asleep a moment ago and rubs his hands over his face. “I’m not feeling that well.”

“No shit.”

He looks up, eyes bloodshot, sweat running down his face. A shiver goes through him.

Yeah, he looks like roadkill. As much fun as the high has to be, the lows don’t make it seem worth the trouble.

And as much as he pisses the hell out of me, he’s my brother.

“Get into bed. I’ll make you coffee.”

His mouth twists into a sort of smile. “Thanks, Jarett.”

“Yeah. And tomorrow you’ll tell me you don’t need a fucking babysitter, and to fuck off. Jesus.” I rub at my eyes, the images from the dream haunting me. The screams, the smells, the blood. My knee hurts like hell when I turn to go to the kitchen, and I don’t know if it’s phantom pain from the dream, or if I fucked it up again. “Why the fuck am I doing this? Wait, don’t answer.”

“Jarett. Look, I… I’m sorry I woke you up. And that I lost my key.”

I turn back around, startled. “It’s okay.” Blood. Pain. Darkness. My stomach churns. “I had a nightmare. I’m fucking glad you woke me up.”

“Was it about your parents again? That sucks, man. I thought you were past that.”

“Yeah, me too.”

And having this conversation with him in the middle of the night, when the last time we talked we beat the shit out of each other, is so fucking weird.

But this is the other side of Seb, one I never get to see anymore. He’ll never qualify for sainthood, but he can be decent when he isn’t trying too hard to be an asshole. When he forgets how important and awesome he is and acts like a human being.

By the time I make him the coffee, he’s fast asleep on the couch, fully dressed and in his heavy jacket, and I stare at him for a long time, after I place the mug on the low table.

I’m trying to see his mom in him. Does he have her eyes, her face, her hair, her colors?

Her kindness?

Is he the son I can never be? Is he worth my promise to her? Is he worth staying in the gang, pushing Gigi away, putting myself on the line?

Is he worth my life?

But then I think, what worth is my life anyway? Not much, that’s for sure. Nobody will miss me if I’m gone. I’ve lost those who mattered to me, those who cared for me.

I might as well make sure he stays alive.