Chapter 25
Inever listened to the voicemail. Deleted it the next morning without playing it, the way I'd deleted the two before it. If I didn't hear his voice, he couldn't get in.
But he got in anyway. Three nights a week I ended up out here, walking through town past sunset, because the alternative was lying in bed listening to him talk in my head—or worse, reaching for the thing under my bed that wasn't there anymore.
Still, the threat that Dad would show up, or I’d blow my shoulder, or I’d do something to upset the Quinns constantly worked its way into my head.
I wanted to grab a beer, have just one sip. But if I had one, I knew I’d have two. And I’d made a promise to myself. That promise wouldn’t be broken today, and I’d take a fourth lap if I had to.
Darkness had surrounded me an hour ago—or maybe longer. I wasn’t sure of the time, as I’d left my phone at the Quinns’ house after telling Gavin I was going for a walk. He'd offered to come, and any other night I'd have said yes. But I needed the kind of quiet Gavin didn't know how to make.
I kept going for another half hour until my feet started to get sore, the soles of my shoes thinning out. I was ten minutes from the house when headlights flashed in my eyes and pulled slowly up in front of me.
Zach.
He still wasn’t talking to me much; it wasn’t like he had expressly said he was pissed, but I hadn’t been getting the warm fuzzies from him since I’d moved in.
I walked toward the passenger-side door and tried to open it, but it remained locked as he rolled the window halfway open.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “It’s past midnight.”
Shit. “Yeah, I went for a walk. Forgot my phone.”
“Doesn’t matter, Mom’s scared to death. Let me call her.” His phone rang once before she picked up. “Yeah, I found him. He’s coming home now; he’ll be there in ten minutes.”
I reached for the door again, but it was still locked. “Open up, dude,” I said.
He looked at me and ended his call with his mom. His lips curled, his eyes annoyed and roaming. “You’ve walked this far; you can finish.” He rolled up the window and pulled away.
I picked a rock up off the ground, threw it at the back of the car, and watched it tumble lazily along the road. Why couldn’t the dipshit just give me a ride back?
When I got to the house, Mr. and Mrs. Quinn were in the living room, both up past their bedtime.
“Where were you?” Mr. Quinn said before I had a second to apologize.
The outburst would come any minute, so I shot my words out quickly. “I went for a walk. I told Gavin, but I didn’t realize I had been gone for so long. I was thinking about some stuff.”
“Curfew is at ten on a school night, Easton,” Mrs. Quinn said. “We discussed this when you moved in.”
Had they already packed my suitcase for me? “I’m sorry. I forgot my phone and lost track of time. It won’t happen again.”
The parents looked at each other, Mr. Quinn nodding at the silent words spoken between them. I hovered in the doorway, one foot in the house, one out.
“One week without those silly game consoles. It happens again, and you’re grounded for a month. Got it?”
I waited for the rest of the sentence, but it never came. “So, you aren’t kicking me out?”
“Jesus, Easton,” Mr. Quinn said quickly, dropping back into his chair, his hands making a steeple in front of his face.
Mrs. Quinn put her hand up to him. “Easton. Listen to what I’m saying now. There is nothing you can do that will prevent you from having a home here. Missing curfew is a big issue, but you will always have a bed. Okay?”
“You sure?”
“Yes, Easton, we’re sure,” Mr. Quinn said. “Try to never let anything that awful cross your mind again, okay?”
“Thanks,” I said, wanting to believe them more than I did. “I really am sorry.”
“It happens, Easton. Now go upstairs.”
I followed their instructions, knowing I still had someone else to talk to. My body temperature spiked when I reached the second floor, my heart trying to break out of my chest. I didn’t bother to knock on Zach’s door when I made it to his room.
He lay on his bed, his phone in his hand above his head, possibly video chatting with someone.
“Really, dude?” I said before he could realize it was me. “You drove away instead of letting me get in?”
He put his phone on his chest, not bothering to lift up his head. “You almost made Mom cry.”
“So what?” I said, noting in my head that I needed to apologize even more to Mrs. Quinn. “All I did was miss curfew.”
“And nobody could get ahold of you.”
“Why’s that your problem?”
“Holy shit, dude, why don’t you care about anything? About anybody?”
I wanted to explain how wrong he was. Instead, the wrong words came out before I could find the right ones. “It was a fucking accident, Zach. I’m sorry.”
“About time you apologized for something.” He still hadn’t looked at me, barely fazed by this conversation, his voice as normal as if he were asking me to pass him the cereal box.
I balled my hands into fists, ready to keep the argument going. Gavin saved me when he came barging into the room behind me. “Keep your voices down, or Mom and Dad are going to hear,” he said.
“Tell your fucking brother,” I said.
“It’s your voice that carried.”
“So?” I said, turning my back to Zach and watching Gavin.
“So, come with me, and you two can finish this once you’ve cooled off.”
“I don’t need to cool off,” I said.
“Sure you don’t. But can you come into my bedroom? I have something to show you.”
He left without waiting for a response, both of us knowing he was full of shit and I’d follow him anyway.
By the time I got to his room, my drive to keep yelling had subsided, and I spent the next twenty minutes bitching about Zach while Gavin mindlessly doodled on a piece of paper. But two doors down, Zach was still awake, still barely talking to me—and no amount of venting was going to fix that.