Chapter 27 #2
“I’ve been off social media since that night. I have no idea what video you’re talking about.” She starts walking. Leading the way down the stone path again, head still titled down. “Tell me about it, though.”
I know what that means, too. She doesn’t want to talk about AJ anymore.
Grant throws raised eyebrows at me. I shake my head. We’ll figure out the entire story another day. I’ll shift the conversation if she wants to focus on something else.
“Rosie ran into a classmate at the bar and he was being a dickhead. I just put him in his place.”
Her head lifts only a bit. Enough for us to hear, “’Put him in his place’? You’re afraid of the dark. No one is being put anywhere by you.”
Grant booms with laughter. I roll my eyes and groan.
“I’m not afraid of the dark!”
“Anymore.”
“I was ten.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She waves her hands, eyes still focused on the walkway, but tone a bit chipper. “Were you actually standing up for her, though?”
“For Rosie?” Billie hums and I jerk in surprise. “Of course. How could you even ask that?”
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. You just… don’t usually do stuff like that.”
Sighing, I nod. To her, to myself. To Grant, who awkwardly glances at me and shrugs. It’s the only time I’ve done something like that, but it should’ve just been the first. Today should’ve been the second.
“It just happened. I wasn’t really thinking of anything in the moment, other than how much Rosie gets bullied by that guy.”
“Jeremiah?” Grant seems happy to pipe up with information he knows. He gives Billie the quick summary of who Jeremiah is and why he’s not just some scorned ex-boyfriend, and she huffs.
“Imagine being so insecure, you act like that.”
“Exactly.”
My brother and I speak in tandem again, and I chuckle.
“Someone was recording the whole thing. It went semi-viral on the finance bro side of the internet. Dad is pissed.”
Billie laughs. Not a sad, empty laugh, but a real one. Clapping her hands and looking at me with wide eyes. “Holy shit! Did Locke McCarthy piss off our dad, on purpose, for the very first time?”
She holds her hand up for a high-five, but I stare at it.
“I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Sure you did.” She offers her high-five to Grant, who takes it, then turns back to me. “Right after, or sometime during the whole thing, you must have thought, ‘Wow, Dad is going to be so mad’? Right?”
My mouth opens to protest, but I don’t have anything. Because that did happen. Multiple times.
Billie smirks. “You knew exactly what was going to happen, and you did it anyways.”
She starts strolling down the walkway. Pieces of broken autumn leaves stick under her boots. My mind is still jumbled from what she’s implying, but at least my sister isn’t crying anymore.
I glance out to the water and say, “I knew he’d be mad. But, at that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care. Rosalie was my priority.”
Is my priority.
A large hand slaps down onto my shoulder. Grant asks, “Do you care now?”
I think. Ponder over everything that happened between past and present. The innate fear of my father while standing in his office, waving a finger at me like standing up for someone is a crime. That shell of me only cared about my father’s opinion and nothing else.
But I think about other things, too. My friends who I laugh with over board games and drinks. My siblings here, who kick fallen leaves at each other and throw light-hearted insults, because that’s how siblings work.
I think about Rosie. The girl who fell into my life when it felt like I needed her most. I think about how unknowingly lost I was before her. How lonely life was before I could sit on a couch with her and laugh about anything and nothing.
Those are the versions of myself I love. That’s who I want to be. More than a piece of my father’s self-driven puzzle. A small smile tugs at my cheeks when I glance at Grant.
“I think I care about being someone other than his son. More than just a McCarthy, you know?”
His hand tightens on my shoulder. Mine and Billie’s entire lives have been defined by being my father. How we acted, who we talked to, what we became. My sister gets off easier because Dad doesn’t want a woman running his company, so the worst of it goes to me.
But Grant grew up without that. With his mom, somewhere deep in the suburbs of Massachusetts. He knows what it’s like to be more than a McCarthy.
Grinning, he nods. “I do know. And you are more than that, Locke. You’re more than just his son.”
I grit my teeth. Swallow the large lump of emotion growing in my throat and force it down. It feels unexplainable, hearing someone else say it.
Indescribable, believing it for the first time.
I’m clutching onto the high. I’m about to ask who I am and hope my brother can say something I’ll believe again. But I never get to speaking the words—my siblings answer without being asked.
“You’re our brother.” Grant says with a wide smile.
“And Ghost’s cat dad.” Billie reminds me, and my heart grows a size.
“You’re Derek’s newest friend, too.”
“Aaaand, you’re Rosie’s boyfriend!”
My feet stop moving. Grant’s brows raise. Billie walks a few more steps before she realizes we’ve paused.
Her face has morphed into disbelief when she looks at me. “You’re joking.”
“We haven’t put a label on it.”
She scoffs. Dramatically, with her eyes rolling back into their sockets.
“You’re dating the hottest girl in Boston, who also happens to be the smartest girl in Boston, with—and I say this out of pure admiration and jealousy—the fattest ass in Boston, and you haven’t asked her to be your girlfriend? !”
Grant shrugs. “I would argue Liliana is probably the hottest girl in Boston.”
“Okay, we get it, you’re madly in love.” Billie waves him off while I’m shaking my head.
“I’m not dating Rosalie.”
My sister chokes out a laugh. Shock and disgust cover her features. “What the fuck do you call whatever you two are then? Friends?”
“No, of course not.”
She doesn’t get it.
I’m not sure if I can fully explain it. What I feel for Rosie is beyond good morning texts and flowers on special occasions. It’s all of that, and more.
I’m not dating Rosalie. I’m living with her.
My heart beating for the first time when I’m near her. Finding emotion in the folds of reality where I didn’t know they existed. Connecting to new people, new places, new things that felt barren and cold before she breathed warmth into them. I was only a shell of someone before I met her.
After Rosie, a new life began. One where being myself isn’t difficult or wrong. It just is. She makes it so.
I’m experiencing everything for the first time. Love and friendship and living, with her.
It can’t be compressed to just dating. She’s my life partner. That’s what my heart has always seen her as, even before I realized it. I’m not sure how to totally explain that to them, or to anyone, really, but Grant plays his part as older brother and navigates my worries.
“It doesn’t matter how they define their relationship. It’s their business, anyways.” The pressure against my chest immediately feels lighter. “The main thing that matters is Locke knows he’s something to her, and to the rest of us. Not just some McCarthy kid.”
He scoffs. I chuckle. I wait for the signal that Billie is on board with our thoughts, but it doesn’t come.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Being a McCarthy isn’t so bad. That’s what makes us connected, right? Shitty Dad aside. That name means more to me than just being related to him.”
A space opens up in my chest. Big enough to hold hopes and dreams I once thought could only be fantasies. A conversation with Rosie carved that spot in my heart. The support of my siblings is what makes it feel real. Attainable.
“You’re right. Being a McCarthy doesn’t have to be exclusive to our father.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Grant nudges my side. “After my mom died, I considered changing my name so I wouldn’t be linked to Keller anymore. I’m glad I didn’t. It’s what keeps the three of us connected. It’s like it’s been rebranded for me.”
My heart squeezes. I think Billie’s does, too, when she pushes Grant’s arm and smiles.
Rebranding. I like that word.
“I had a conversation with Rosie a few weeks ago. Discussing Dad, how things were in life… that sort of stuff. She threw out an idea. It was probably a random thought, but it made me think things. Until today, it was all just wishful thinking.”
My voice trails off. I readjust my glasses.
Like he’s inside my brain, Grant continues for me. “But right now it feels like it’s possible, and you’d like our input?”
“Yes.” I gulp. “I don’t want to run VK. I don’t want anything to do in e-commerce.
I love video games, and I don’t have the perfect degree for it but I want to try breaking into that industry.
If I can, and I get some experience, and I really like it, I think I might want to start game studio in the future. ”
Somehow, it’s both scary and relieving to say the words aloud.
I’d been so afraid to speak of a life this far removed from what’s been set out for me.
My father would probably keel over if he knew I wanted this.
Doing something like this would detach myself from being Keller McCarthy’s son permanently.
I let the silence stretch. I wait for the ground to fall beneath me and the world to crumble, just from being someone else for once. Neither happen.
The only thing that sets me off balance is Grant’s elbow in my side again.
“That sounds great, Locke. You should go for it.”
The sentences are small, but they hold a weight not even I can comprehend.
I look at Billie. I wait for her to say some smartass comment or to throw a tease at me.
She grins—but it’s not tilted and playful. It’s soft.
“You’d be amazing at something like that. I think you should do it too.”
Neither of them say anything else. They don’t have to. I can feel the overwhelming warmth of family, and support, and a safe space that isn’t necessarily a physical location. It’s my siblings, encouraging me to chase everything I want, and not everything I know.
It’s the culmination of unconditional love that has me blurting out, “We should do it together. If I end up wanting to start a game studio, it should be the three of us. Billie, we’d need some social media presence.
And Grant, I don’t know much about digital art in the gaming industry, but I’ll make a position catered to you if I have to. I want all of us to be involved.”
We’ve stalled again. The November wind whips past my ears and across my skin, but I’m unfazed. Billie isn’t shivering anymore, either.
“Dad would be so fucking pissed if all three of his kids worked on a company together, and completely reinvented the McCarthy legacy,” my sister says.
“Yeah,” I add. “He would.”
“Then let’s fucking do it.”
Grant wraps an arm around both our shoulders. Brings us in for our first sibling group hug, and I wonder how many of these are in my future.
There’s a bond between siblings that can’t be explained. Some of it manifests during childhood fights and generational trauma, sure—but the core of it doesn’t have an end or a beginning. It’s unspoken.
I have faith that a bond like ours wouldn’t be bent or broken by a last name, or a company legacy it holds. For the second, jarring time, I pity my father. Maybe if he received love like this in his life, he’d know how to give it, too.
We spent another fifteen minutes discussing the concept of a McCarthy game studio. Every idea becomes more outlandish. Starting with a support position for Ghost, and ending with propositions to make our fictional office mine and Rosie’s wedding venue.
Billie, in particular, is insistent on the last one.
“If you’re not going to ask her to be your girlfriend, you might as well start planning the next step now.”
It’s one of her wisecrack comments. Usually I would let it pass, but this one sticks. It rolls around in my head and tucks itself with the other thoughts and memories I have of Rosie. I can’t say I hate the idea of skipping the social expectations and going straight to wife.
My siblings are tossing their half-serious ideas of a studio while I ponder over every hour, every minute, every second I’ve spent with my girl.
Wondering if she’d want me to pull a grand gesture and ask her to be my girlfriend, or if she understands my heart the way I try to understand hers.
Does she need our relationship to be so starkly defined, or does she agree that what we have feels more whole than just two halves of a relationship?
I remember things about Rosalie. Her bright eyes, the comfort of her embrace.
The cute blush she had on her cheeks the night we confessed to each other.
I remember Rosie and I are often on the same page, then not.
Grant is taking pictures of the horizon, talking about good reference shots, when the dying sunlight catches onto the metal of my watch. I check the time and glance at my siblings.
“Are you guys free for the next few hours?” They nod. I have an idea, and these are the two people I’d want to do this with. “Let’s go look for a jeweler.”
Billie screams and puts her hands on her head. “I was fucking joking, Locke!”
“I’m not going to propose!” My sister holds a hand to her chest, and Grant laughs. My body starts walking backwards to where Grant parked his car. “But I have an idea, and it involves a jeweler. Are you guys coming?”
They glance at each other. My brother laughs again, and my sister mumbles something while wrapping the coat tighter around her body.
With brown leaves crunching under their feet, they follow.