When my week at the motel is up, I pay for another week. I don’t go to work. I don’t answer anyone’s calls besides Lachlan. I’ll always talk to Lachlan, my best friend. He’s the only one who uses the home phone, so I know it’s safe. He wants to meet up soon. I tell him I want that, too. I miss the kid. I miss Aubrey.

Misty calls.

Messages.

Court dates.

Hearings.

Probation.

Rehab.

I ignore every one.

I do everything I can to make sure the rest of my family give up on me. Mary said it was for the best, and Mary is always right. We don’t leave the hotel room. Don’t let anyone in. I breathe her into my bloodline until she’s part of me, until she becomes me. I pass out, wake up, pass out, wake up, and every second my eyes are open, so are Mary’s legs, begging, pleading to be fucked.

Sometime during the second week, Mary wakes me from my sleep, her hand squeezing my heart. I miss my friends, she tells me. Don’t you miss my friends, Logan?

I raise my hand against the bright sunlight weaving into the room and murmur, “You want to see your friends?”

Yes. And you want to make me happy, right?

Within hours, Mary and her friend, Cocaine, have used and abused every inch of my body. When I wake up, the sun is setting. I have no idea how long I’ve been out, but my stomach is screaming and my mouth is dry, and so I slip on my sweats, grab the loose change sitting on the nightstand. I tell Mary I’ll be back and open the door, stop in my tracks. “Luce?”

She looks into the room, then up at me. “Who are you talking to?”

“No one.” I close the door behind me, attempt to look as straight as I physically can. “How did you know where to find me?”

“Small town, Logan.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Her features flatten, and she takes me in from head to toe, slowly. “You don’t look so good.”

I wipe under my nose. Sniff once.

“Jesus Christ, Logan,” she whispers, stepping back and crossing her arms over her chest, shielding her body away from me. As if I’m a threat. She’s my goddamn sister. I love her beyond words. I’d never fucking hurt her. I’d never hurt any of them. I only ever hurt myself.

“What are you doing here?” I repeat.

“I came… I—” She breaks off on an exhale and shakes her head, then starts again, her head higher, her voice stronger. “I came here because I know Lachlan asked to meet with you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, and…?”

“And I see you now, and… and I don’t think you should do it, Logan. I don’t think our baby brother should have to see you like this!”

I roll my eyes, frustrated, and brush past her toward the vending machines. Over my shoulder, I say, “Our mother’s dead, Lucy. You’re not her.”

She follows behind me, nipping at my heels. “Do you even know why he wants to see you?”

I push coins into the vending machine before making a choice. “Why?” I ask, distracted.

“Aubrey’s leaving, Logan.”

My stomach drops.

“She’s leaving for good. Tomorrow night, we’re taking her out to dinner to say goodbye. Lachy was going to ambush you, try to get you to come so you can convince her to stay. I think, in a way, I came for the same thing, because Aubrey—she’s become a really good friend to me, and while you were together, she became part of our family…” When I don’t say anything or even make a move to face her, she adds, “Did you know that Lachlan thinks he killed Mom?”

“What?” I huff out, stabbing at the buttons of the vending machine. “That’s dumb, and he’s never once mentioned that to me.”

“Me neither,” she says, “but he told Aubrey, and Aubrey told me. And when Cameron and I confronted him about it a few months ago, he said that it didn’t matter anymore. That he had Aubrey. He said that he always felt like he’d missed out on so much, that sometimes he hated us for being able to remember Mom in ways that he can’t,” she cries out, and all the way from the motel room, Mary squeezes my heart again. She squeezes so hard, I cringe in pain, so much pain my eyes water. “He said that we all got to see her in the kitchen baking or got to sit at the table while we drew pictures and she’d watch over us. He didn’t get any of that. Not until Aubrey.”

I shake my head, ignore Mary’s painful twisting and prodding. “Aubrey and I broke up. It happens. What do you want me to say, Luce?”

“Nothing,” she murmurs. “I don’t want you to say anything, Logan. And I don’t want you anywhere near Lachlan and Aubrey. Not like this.”