Chapter 24
BEFORE
December, Eleven Years Ago
The next morning, I had Julie take me home as soon as I woke up.
I couldn’t even stay to let Marie French braid my hair with Julie.
I didn’t want to spend Christmas in my pajamas with the Delvecchios if it meant watching Sophie hang off Jackson’s arm all day.
It wouldn’t feel like Christmas if I was miserable.
I was glad to leave before either of them woke up.
Sophie was still asleep on the couch when we left, and something about her not sleeping in Jackson’s bed with him made me happy, even though I wasn’t supposed to care about things like that.
They probably had sex last night, so them sleeping in the same bed should be the least of my worries.
I thought about the time Jackson and I fell asleep on the couch together during sophomore year, our legs intertwined the entire night.
He had slept with me on the couch then, but left his girlfriend to sleep alone on the couch on Christmas.
When Julie pulled into my driveway, I was surprised to see Peter’s car there. He was supposed to leave last night to visit our mom. I walked inside hesitantly, finding him at the kitchen table already nursing a beer and what looked like a hangover from hell.
“Hey,” I said as I bent down to untie my Converse. “I thought you would be at Mom’s.”
“She told me not to come at the last minute. She went on a trip with her boyfriend.”
I wasn’t shocked in the slightest; Mom did shit like this to Peter all the time.
I’d stopped expecting anything from her.
She had always been this way. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d talked to her on the phone.
Peter looked sad though, and he took another swig of his beer.
I felt bad for him—he kept giving Mom chance after chance, but she just kept letting him down.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. I didn’t know if that was what he needed to hear, or if it was even the right thing to say. I started walking down the hallway when I heard Peter’s voice again.
“What are you doing today? I thought you were going to be at the Delvecchios’ all day.”
I stopped in the hallway, debating if I should turn around and walk back into the kitchen to talk to him. “No, I didn’t feel good so I had them bring me home,” I said.
“Oh, well I’m going to make dinner later if you want any.”
I mouthed the words, What the fuck. When had Peter ever been nice like this to me? When had he ever acted like I was anything besides an annoyance in his life that he couldn’t wait to get rid of?
“Maybe. I’ll see how I’m feeling. Thanks, Peter.”
I started heading for my room again, and I heard Peter call out, “Merry Christmas, Addie.”
***
I read in my room all day, occasionally putting my ear to the door to listen to what Peter was doing. He kept going up and down the stairs, and I assumed he was spending the day in his room as well, only coming back upstairs to get a new drink.
At one point he left, and I watched his car drive away, then heard the door open and close an hour later.
I had a few texts pop up on my phone throughout the day.
Marie and Phil wished me a Merry Christmas, and said they hoped I felt better soon.
There were also a bunch of one-sentence texts in a row from Julie, giving me a play-by-play of her spying on Sam and his girlfriend while he tried to teach her how to play a video game.
She’s acting like she doesn’t know how to hold the controller so he can put his hands on hers
Ew she giggled and he tickled her, like right under the armpits, wtf
Sam kissed her neck, I saw tongue *gags*
It’s like a cringey reality show, I just can’t stop watching
Oh, Sophie is attempting to climb Jackson like a tree and he is NOT having it
She just told him the drum set is obnoxious ahhahahhha maybe I do like her?
I wished I had a smartphone like Jackson and Julie, because I didn’t even know how to put my ancient phone on Do Not Disturb. I didn’t even know if it had the option.
The whole point of not being there was to get Sophie and Jackson off my mind. I threw my phone into my bundle of sheets and walked toward the kitchen, the smell of spices hitting me before I even entered the room.
Peter was cooking chicken on the stove, there were potatoes boiling in a pot, and something was baking in the oven.
“Can you mash the potatoes for me? Milk is on the table,” Peter asked.
He was talking to me so normally, so I acted completely normal in return as I drained the potatoes and poured in milk, mixing them around. He set the table with two plates and silverware, then pulled out the tray from the oven. It looked like glazed carrots.
I felt like I was in some alternate universe where Peter and I were a team; that we had a sibling relationship like Julie and Jackson did.
He turned off the burner, using tongs to place a piece of chicken on my plate. He joined me at the table and we filled our plates with the sides. We ate in silence, no words passing between us.
Peter was drinking what looked like a glass of coke, and as we ate, I assumed he was sober. We were almost done with our meal when he refilled his glass, pouring whiskey into the glass until it was almost full, and then topping it off with coke.
I stared at his glass as he sat back down at the table, and when he set it down it sloshed over the side, splattering against the table.
I looked up at him, and he was staring at me.
He didn’t look nice anymore, and something dark flashed across his eyes.
My defenses kicked up, getting ready to run if he started to yell at me.
He shook his head suddenly and scoffed. “You’re starting to look so much like Mom.”
It sounded like a bad thing. A very, very bad thing that caused goose bumps to raise across my skin.
I was wrong—Peter and I would never have a relationship like normal siblings. He still resented me, and I was dumb enough to let my guard down for this dinner. I didn’t say anything in return as I cautiously got up to put my dishes in the dishwasher.
“Thanks for dinner, Peter,” I said quietly before hurrying out the kitchen.
As soon as I closed the door to my bedroom, I heard Peter throwing things around the kitchen.
It sounded like he threw his plate against the wall to shatter it, followed by the clang of silverware, pots, and pans being knocked to the floor.
I covered my ears, trying to hide from the sound.
All this, just because I looked like Mom and it set him off.
My phone started vibrating under my back, and I dug around under my sheets to find it. Jackson’s name was on my screen, and I hit the side button to decline the call.
I sent him a text instead: What’s up? I didn’t want to risk answering and having him hear Peter’s tantrum. He would freak out and drive over here in a second to pick a fight with my brother.
Sophie’s gone and Julie and I are bored. Wanna hang with us?
My fingers flew across the keys. Yes yes yes
He responded that they’d be here in ten. I changed from my pj’s into jeans and an old jacket of Julie’s I still had from sophomore year. I smacked myself for leaving my shoes by the front door. I didn’t want to risk passing Peter’s freak-out in the kitchen.
I looked out my window when headlights flashed across my room. I heard something crash again in the kitchen and cursed. Julie and Jackson were idling in the truck in the driveway, and my heart started to race.
Be out in a sec, I texted Jackson. I could hear them singing along to the music in the car.
I prayed for Peter to go downstairs, worried that he would hear the music and walk to the door.
They had to have seen Peter’s car in the driveway—they knew better than to be this loud. God, what if he approached them?
I looked out the window again just as Jackson was getting out the truck to walk up the front porch.
A feeling in my gut alerted me that something really bad was going to happen if Jackson walked up to the door.
He was a loose cannon these days, and if he saw Peter in this condition—or the mess he had caused in the kitchen—I knew he would throw down right there.
I felt a wave of panic crash over me, and I rushed to unlock my window and pull it up.
“Hey! Hey!” I whisper-yelled, waving frantically against the screen.
Jackson looked around until he spotted me, then he furrowed his eyebrows before walking toward my window.
“Uh, whatcha doing?” Jackson asked with a grin as he looked around. He had no idea what kind of situation was behind my door right now, and I wanted to slap the smile off his face and yell “Danger!”
“Peter’s having an absolute meltdown right now, and the last thing I want to do is walk by him in the kitchen,” I admitted.
Jackson’s eyes narrowed, and he started to move for the front door.
“Jackson! Get your ass over here.” My entire body was shaking now. I could barely hold myself together imagining an interaction between him and Peter. Sure, Jackson was bigger now, but it was not the fucking time to be a hero. He reluctantly turned around and walked back up to my window.
Julie was in the truck still, the music lowered now as she watched us. She was playing with one of her French braids, nervously twirling the end around her fingers.
“I’m just gonna come out the window. I don’t have my shoes, though. Can you catch me?” The drop wasn’t far—our house was only one story, but it was up on a slant, so I couldn’t reach the ground from the ledge. Plus, I wasn’t about to jump into the frozen bushes without shoes on.
“Addie this is insane. I’ll go grab your shoes from the front door and come get you from your room.”
“No, you are not coming in this house,” I pleaded. I didn’t give him time to counter. I pushed at the screen and it popped right out.