Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
ORANGE JUICE
ZACK
I’m tired. Like, bone-deep tired. I don’t know the last time I got more than a full hour of sleep, but all I know is Hazel—though beyond gorgeous—is going to be a liability.
I don’t know if bringing her along is the best option, but if there’s anyone who knows about this situation, it would be her.
I made the decision to make the long ass trip from Maplewood back to Murfreesboro.
Took me almost twelve hours to get home, and luckily the weather held.
I slept most of the day, and after deciding to be a human and not rot for the rest of the day, I made my way into the kitchen.
Sam walked in shortly after, looking disheveled, slightly strung out, and I know that I can’t let this shit get to me.
I pour him a cup of orange juice and hand it over. Sam takes it, eyes flicking away from mine. His wavy, brown hair is a mess—untamed and uncut. I can’t hold back. “Sammy, when’s the last time you cut your hair?”
He doesn’t say anything. Just looks at the OJ as he swirls it in the cup. I want to say more, but I hold back. Because everything else is already hanging in the air between us.
“Why do you care?” he finally says, his voice low.
His eyes are sunken in and he looks anxious, his hand showing a subtle tremor.
I know this isn’t my responsibility, and I know that I could just leave at any moment, but I won’t.
He won't, either. He lets out an irritated growl, grabs his sweater, his pack of Marlboros, and slams the door behind him. I watch him from the kitchen window as he sits on the back steps like he’s waiting for something that just won't come. His leg bounces and his fingernails tap against his BIC lighter—his nervous tic. He doesn’t talk to me anymore, just gets angry all the time.
Unfortunately, I know the signs, and he’s strung out. Again.
I admit, I haven’t been the most present lately. That’s not my fault, but things go two ways. I walk outside, my shadow looming over him like the darkness consuming me has taken shape. “You gonna smoke that thing or just fondle it to death?”
He doesn’t look up, just mutters, “Didn’t know I needed your permission to sit outside.”
“You don’t.” I lean against the railing. “But I’m starting to wonder what exactly it is you do need. Because your pupils are shot to hell and your jaw’s been ticking all morning.”
He finally lights the cigarette, sucking in like it’s the first breath he’s taken all day. “Jesus, Zack. You really never get tired of this?”
“Tired of what? Watching my brother spiral?”
Sam snorts, blowing smoke out the side of his mouth. “I’m not spiraling.”
“You’re wired, you haven’t eaten since yesterday, and I’m pretty sure you’ve been up for forty-eight hours. What do you want me to call it?”
He stands, all sharp movements and defensiveness. “I want you to butt out, okay? You’re not my dad.”
There it is. The line he always pulls when he’s cornered.
“No,” I say, calmly. “I’m not. But someone’s gotta care, and right now that someone is me.”
“Well maybe I don’t want you to.” He’s pacing now, the cigarette dangling between his fingers like he can’t stand still long enough to feel anything. “You think just because you showed up after everything went to shit, you get to act like you’re in charge?”
I keep my tone level. “I’m not trying to be in charge. I’m trying to make sure you don’t end up dead in a ditch.”
“God, listen to yourself.” He laughs, but it’s dry and brittle. “You think you’re some kind of savior, don’t you?”
I take a step forward. “No. I think I’m the only one left who gives a damn.”
He turns on me. “You weren’t even around, Zack. Not when it mattered.”
I feel that hit somewhere deep in my chest. I was around.
I dropped every single thing for him. I left my life for him, got a job out here and made sure he never had to struggle.
He doesn’t know the extent of things that I’ve done, or what my guys have done.
I had to wait until I was stable enough to become his legal guardian.
I did things as fast as I could, but it wasn’t enough. And that guilt eats at me daily.
“I know.”
“You think you can just waltz back in and fix things? You think that makes up for you disappearing for years? For not being there when—” He cuts himself off, his eyes flashing. “You know what? I blame you.”
The air stops. He looks me dead in the eye and says it again—quieter, but with more venom.
“I blame you for them dying.”
It’s like the ground shifts under my feet.
Like he just cracked something in me I didn’t even know was still whole.
I don’t say anything, not right away. I just look at him, and I know he sees it—the hurt, the betrayal, the weight of it all.
I pride myself on being the bigger person because of how much of an age gap there is between us.
I’ve had such a long time to keep everything locked away from him, to protect him.
His expression changes fast, the young boy that he truly is making an appearance again.
“I didn’t mean that,” he says, the bravado gone in an instant. “I was just—just pissed. I didn’t mean it, Zack.”
“Don’t walk it back,” I quip. My voice comes out low. Too calm for how I’m feeling. I have to remember he’s only a kid in the grand scheme of things. I just wish I could be better for him. I want to be someone he’s proud to call his brother. He’s only a kid. He has so much more life to live still.
“I’m sorry, man. I swear, I don’t blame you. I was trying to piss you off, that’s all.”
“You think I don’t already blame myself?” I ask evenly. “Every damn day, Sam. You think I don’t lie awake wishing I had answered the phone earlier? That I’d come home sooner? That I hadn’t just…vanished?”
He looks down at his shoes, the guilt raging through him as he won’t meet my eyes.
“You needed me. They needed me. And I wasn’t there.”
Sam steps toward me, his voice shaky. “Zack…I’m trying. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m trying. We were doing really good until this whole thing with Cameron happened, and then it’s like you changed again, and I just—feel lost. I know that it’s stupid, but you were gone for a long time.”
“You need help.” My usually hard demeanor is soft—and really, it’s only soft for him. He’s the only family I have left, and I can’t lose him. As if on cue—as if the universe knew I was about to say fuck it with Cameron and Leyla—my phone buzzes. I know who it is before I can even pull out my phone.
Sam looks at me, his face almost broken realizing that this message most likely means that I’m leaving again. “You just got home.”
“I know, Sammy. I know, and I’m sorry. I promise I won’t be long, okay?”
I didn’t even know what Hazel wanted, but deep down I subconsciously knew what this message would be.
Hazel: Hey. Got the okay from Alex. Can go into Leyla’s place.
Hazel: Can you meet me there? I don’t want to go alone.
I stare at the message, my thumb frozen above the screen. Clean out the house. Take what she wants.
It hits harder than I expect—like the grief’s been waiting just under the skin this whole time, and all Hazel did was tap the glass.
I read the text again. It doesn’t change.
Sam shifts next to me. “Everything okay?”
I try to swallow the lump building in my throat. “Yeah. Just…a friend of Leyla’s.”
He eyes me. “I’ll be okay, you know. I really do promise I’m not strung out. I’m just tired. What did Leyla’s friend want?”
I stare at him, not really knowing where to take this conversation or even how much to let him in, but he’s my brother, so I tell him everything. “She got permission to start clearing out Cameron and Leyla’s place,” I say, my voice flat, like if I don’t put weight on the words, they won’t break me.
Sam stops cold. “Oh…”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t ask questions after that. Just stands there, hands in his pockets, looking anywhere but at me. I think despite knowing I was leaving, this was a confirmation he didn’t want to hear.
I type a quick reply to Hazel, knowing that I have to do this.
Me: On my way. Taking the bike up, will be there.
I shove the phone back into my pocket, like burying it can buy me more time. “Why don’t we go get Waffle House, and you drop me off at the airport, okay?”
His face lights up just slightly—no sane person can turn down the wonder of Waffle House. “Yeah, okay.”