Chapter 13
CYRUS
The summer air is thick, sticking to my skin and leaving it uncomfortably damp.
Even with the intense humidity, it’s still less stuffy outside than being crammed inside the small farmhouse.
Every person in Deadwood must be here to celebrate one of our own finally heading off to college in the ‘big city’.
Our families only moved to this holler a year ago, but the Landrys certainly integrated much better than my pop and I did.
Even if they hadn’t, no one in these parts needs much of an excuse to throw a party.
The ruckus from inside the house spills out onto the porch each time someone opens the door, interrupting my solitude.
I’m about to move the big blue coolers inside just to keep from being annoyed each time someone steps out to retrieve a beer.
Another stranger pops out like clockwork, and I groan, rubbing a hand through my hair and ashing my cigarette over the porch railing.
“You could pretend to enjoy yourself,” a small voice criticizes me from around the corner of the porch.
Roux’s flames of auburn hair appear as she peeks over the railing, grinning wickedly.
My little cousin has always been the most mischievous of the three of us.
Her mom was the youngest of her sisters, less inclined to the reclusive habits of the others.
Roux’s hands cradle a red plastic cup, trying to keep me from seeing inside it.
“Pour that out,” I growl, reaching down to snatch it. I crack a smile, holding the cup to my lips. “Actually, don’t waste it. I’ll drink it.”
Roux puffs out her bottom lip, giving a little huff and flipping her hair over her shoulder. “It tastes like shit anyway. I don’t know how y’all drink that stuff.”
“Taste a lot of shit, Roux?” I joke, raising an eyebrow and chuckling as her nose crinkles at me. “What’re you in now? Middle school?”
“Seventh grade,” she clarifies, placing her hands on her hips. I roll my eyes and swirl the contents of the cup. The scent of alcohol stings my nose as I take another sip.
“You’ll learn to like it later. Just don’t enjoy it too much, or you’ll turn into him.” I nod inside, where my old man is laughing too loudly at a joke that probably wasn’t funny to begin with. My nostrils flare as I stare at him a little too long.
She narrows her eyes, squinting like she’s searching for something deeper in my words, before she rolls them dramatically.
“Whatever. Why are you out here anyway? Shouldn’t you be inside with the other adults?
” Her hands grip the porch railing. She presses her face between them, squishing her cheeks together as she blinks at me.
“I don’t really care much for parties,” I laugh, pushing her back by the tip of her nose. “I’m just here to make the old man happy. Once he’s had another beer or two, I’ll sneak off. What’re you doin’ out here? Besides gettin’ into trouble.”
“It’s too loud in there,” Roux says matter-of-factly, leaning back from the railing. “Besides, I’m the youngest one here. Jace doesn’t exactly play with dolls anymore. She’s goin’ off to college, and I’m gonna go too, once I’m old enough.”
“You still play with dolls?” I snort, choking on my drink as I move away from Roux swatting at me.
“Yeah, Jace is gettin’ out of here. Good for her.
” I pull another cigarette out of the chest pocket of my flannel shirt.
Roux fakes a sputtering, hacking cough before I even light the thing, and I sigh.
The corner of my mouth pulls into a grin.
I wave the cigarette above her head, taunting her a little before putting it away again.
Roux’s face hardens. She eyes me for a moment, like she’s rolling her next words around her mouth.
“You say goodbye yet?” Her line-of-sight moves to the window behind me, and I turn my head to follow it.
Jace’s wide brown eyes stare back, and a lump lodges in my throat.
She gives me a slight grin, her eyes watering before she breaks our connection.
My cousin suddenly appears next to me, and I jump, making her cackle loudly. She holds her small belly as she howls, “You shoulda seen your face! Cyrus is in love!”
“Get outta here, Roux,” I groan, tossing the empty cup in her direction. “Before I tell your mama what you had in that cup!”
Her laughter cuts off abruptly, and she frowns. “You wouldn’t.”
“Let me mope in peace.” I bend to pick up the cup, tossing it into the trash. Leaning against the house, I bring the cigarette out once more, lighting it this time. Roux waves one hand in front of her face and plugs her nose with the other.
“Can I ask you something?” she ponders, her voice becoming serious.
“You just did, but sure.” I take a deep inhale then exhale a circle of smoke towards the sky. She frowns without laughing at my joke.
“How long until you’re twenty-eight?” Her eyes are big as saucers, her hands knitting together.
“I’m twenty now. You do the math, Roux.” I sigh, looking over at her and grinning. Her face stays frozen in a grim expression, making my smile drop. “Why?”
“Something Mama said,” she croaks, and she looks down to keep me from seeing fresh tears in her eyes. “She said I wouldn’t see you anymore.”
I roll my eyes. It’s not the first time Aunt Magnolia has said something strange. Whatever it was has Roux worried that turning twenty-eight is supposed to be some monumental event. “She was just teasing.”
Roux thinks for a moment then gives me a half-smile before slipping back inside the house. A chill slides down my spine at the strangeness of her random question, but the sound of Jace’s voice draws my attention away from the thought.
Smoke spirals out of my mouth, coiling lazily up into the air.
My eyes search for Jace again inside the crowded kitchen, then the living room, but wherever she is, I can’t find her from this angle.
I could go inside, weave through the other guests until I finally spot her, but what would I even say when I do?
She’s already expressed her feelings about leaving me behind, and I’ve told her to go.
Jace is getting out, away from this place and our fucked-up past for good.
I need to let her go. She’s better off forgetting about me, whether she wants to admit it or not.
She doesn’t need to know all the vile details about our family’s past in Devil’s Nest, and the longer she sticks around, the more likely she is to find out.
I’m only an anchor to a life she needs to sail far away from before I sink her.
The tinkle of her feminine laugh drifts outside, recognizable even with the competing chaos.
I wince, snuffing out my cigarette. With one last look back, I make my way off the porch and across the pasture towards home.
My pop will stumble his way back eventually, long after he’s worn out his welcome.
I don’t need to stick around for secondhand embarrassment.