Chapter 9 #2
“I feel the same way about having my brother after my parents died.” I notice the slightest twitch of disbelief in his expression and feel the need to justify myself, to defend Eli.
“Eli wasn’t always an addict. He was a genius, on track to do great things at college, but he dropped out, gave it all up, to come home and take care of me.
He didn’t want me to go into care. For a while, we got along fine, just the two of us; he helped me through a really rough time.
” Unconsciously, I touch the fine scars on my arms, pulling down the sleeves of my top to hide them, even though I covered them with tattoos long ago.
I suspect Cash notices, but he doesn’t ask.
“It was only after his bike accident that things got bad, and by then I was almost an adult, able to take care of myself and him.”
Cash nods, though I can tell there are things he isn’t saying, opinions he’s keeping to himself.
I’ve heard them before—that seventeen is still a kid, that plenty of people take pain meds without becoming addicted.
Sometimes it seems like people see my brother’s addiction as a failure on his part, a weakness of character.
“It’s not his fault, he’s a good brother,” I insist, parroting the exact words I’ve been telling myself for years.
“I know,” Cash replies gently. “I always wanted a sibling. It’s why I treasure what I have with Ace and Gage.”
“Your mom never had more kids?” I ask.
Cash’s voice is slow and measured as he replies.
“She did. One didn’t make it out of the NICU.
I had a sister, for a little while, I was so proud.
I looked after her, changed her diaper, and gave her a bottle.
She was six months old when the state took her away.
I didn’t believe it at the time, but they tried to explain to me that a ten-year-old couldn’t raise a baby.
Despite my protests, Mom put her up for adoption, signed away any rights to find out her new name or family.
I asked them to take me too, but of course, they wouldn’t.
After that, I started acting out really badly.
Mom only tried to get me back once, and she was the one who called CPS and said she couldn’t cope with me.
” Cash shrugs as if his story is normal, no big deal, and my heart breaks for him.
I imagine him as a young boy with the weight of the world on his shoulders, trying to be brave and raise a baby when he was still a child himself.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice cracking with emotion that I try to push down. Somehow, I suspect it would hurt Cash if he thought I was pitying him. “What was her name? Before they took her away,” I clarify.
Cash smiles softly, a flicker of surprise skittering over his face, as if he isn’t used to being asked that question.
“I named her Bambi.” He chuckles softly.
“In hindsight, that was an interesting choice of name, but to me it was perfect. Bambi had lost her mother, and our mom was gone, just in a different way, and I would be like Thumper, her best friend, there for everything. Kids are stupid, huh?” he says, brushing it off.
“Not at all, I think that’s a great name, and you’d have been a wonderful big brother. Bambi would have been lucky to have you.”
Cash sighs. “Now I’m an adult, I understand there was no way I could have raised a baby alone, and I’m glad that Bambi got adopted, that she didn’t have the childhood I had. I just hope that wherever she went, she was loved and happy.”
“I’m sure she was,” I say, squeezing his hand. This time, I don’t pull away, and neither does he. His hand feels warm and soft; he has the long fingers of a musician. “Did you ever try to find her again?”
“A couple of times, but it’s impossible, unless she comes looking for our mom or me.
I can’t contact her; only she can get my details.
She might not even know she’s adopted. I’ve come to terms with it.
” He stares down at the floor, lost in thought, absentmindedly stroking the back of my hand with his thumb.
The sensation is welcome, and I feel a ripple of something akin to butterflies stir within me.
“Thank you for sharing your story with me,” I breathe. “For confiding in me.”
I wonder if part of the reason Cash helped save me, why he’s sharing his story with me, is that his sister would be around my age now, only a couple of years older, probably.
The thought of Cash seeing me as a sister doesn’t sit quite right, and I realize it’s because I find him attractive.
I don’t want him seeing me in that way, like a kid sister; I want him to see me as a woman.
I edge closer to him, drawn like a magnet.
He smells good, a heady mix of woodsmoke and peppermint.
I study the tattoo on his arm, turning his hand over and tracing the intricate lines of the pattern, a clockwork gearwork.
The hair on the back of his arm stands on end, responding to my touch.
Suddenly, the air is thick with tension.
Some small subtle shift has occurred, and I’m acutely aware of his presence, of the intimacy of our conversation.
Cash turns to look at me, a curious expression on his face.
I meet his gaze, feeling as if I’m about to dive overboard into a cold ocean.
His lips part, and I find myself wondering how they’d feel to kiss.
“Naomi,” he says. The one word holding all of his emotions, longing, sadness, shame, discomfort, and pity.
I assume he’s trying to find the words to reject me, to let me down easily, and tell me that he doesn’t see me in that way, that we can just be friends or some other hollow platitude.
I don’t want him to get that far. I can’t admit what I was just thinking, what was evident to us both.
Embarrassed and ashamed, I pull my hand away as if scalded.
“I should…” I mumble, muttering some incoherent excuse as to why I have to leave, jumping up from the couch.
What am I doing? How can I be thinking of him like this?
Shame floods me that I’d even think of him that way when only last night I gave my virginity to his best friend.
Cash awkwardly shuffles to the furthest edge of the couch, picking up his laptop. “Right, yes, work to do,” he says in a rush. He’s as keen to get rid of me as I am to leave.
Cash was my ally in this place, and I’ve blown it by acting like some horny teen. God, he must think I’m cringey as hell. My cheeks flush scarlet at the thought. What if he tells Gage? I wonder. Will they kick me out?