I stand abruptly and go into my room, grabbing the sketch I did this morning. I extend it to him silently, and his eyes widen. “Yeah?” he says, his gaze flicking up to me.
“I want it to be the anchor piece for my right sleeve.”
A smile turns his lips, and he nods. “I like it, dude. It’s appropriate and she’d love it. Not that you’re going to tell her.”
I grin, “Not ‘til it’s done anyway.”
“Secretive bastard,” he accuses, and I nod.
There’s a knock on the door, and he arches an eyebrow at me silently. We haven’t been here long enough that anyone knows where we’re at. Staci does, and so does Barrie, but only because that’s work. “Did the girls forget their keys?” I ask, walking to the door.
“No. Linds wanted to stop and get hers bedazzled or some shit,” he snorts.
I laugh and open the door.
Brody is standing there, his eyes darting around as he hunches forward, his hands tucked into his pockets. He’s looking around like he thinks he might be shanked for being here and I have to swallow my laugh. Because I like her brother, and he doesn’t know that this is actually a really good neighborhood, as our price range goes.
Poor kid would have a heart attack if he knew where his sister had been slumming before we moved here.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, staring at him.
“Uh, hello, future brother-in-law, yes I would love to come in.” From the couch, Scott snorts a laugh, and puts aside his guitar to stand and come to the door.
"Who are you?" he asks without preamble.
"Brody. And you’re Scott. Where is Peyton?"
"She went to get alcohol."
Brody laughs. "Dad has that effect on folks, and especially on her."
I nod, and Scott heaves a sigh, grabbing my arm and pulling me aside while Brody steps into the apartment and closes the door behind him.
"What are you doing here, man?" Scott asks.
"You love my sister," he says, looking at me.
I nod, and he grins. "Good. You’re good for her. Peyton is different from the rest of us. She's creative and spontaneous and wild. I thought for a long time that she killed that when she played the good little political daughter, but she didn't. And then--she told you about the eating disorder? About rehab?"
I nod and my gut clenches. Because I'll run to the farthest ends of the earth to keep her away from these people. To make sure that she never becomes the shell of the girl she was then.
"It changed her, man. Fucked her up for a long time. She had a hard time letting people in after that. And she quit playing the part, got deeper into her own head and creativity—but I haven't seen the girl I grew up with in years, not the way I saw her tonight. I want you to know that." He shifts and grins. "I saw my sister again, man. And you made that happen. You are bringing her out of her shell. So I don't really give a fuck who you are or what you do or what fucked up past you have hiding. I respect what you did." His gaze darts to Scott, and then back to me, and my best friend shifts.
"So why are you here?" I ask. "I appreciate the vote of confidence and shit but it seems a little excessive."
"I love Peyton. I get her in a way I don't get my brothers. But she doesn't need to be anywhere near my parents. They won't ever accept what she wants, because it's not the picture they have in their mind for her. I get where they're coming from—she's the only daughter and all that shit. But it's bad for her. And she's self-destructive when shit gets bad. So keep her away. Don't let her come back to this."
I stare at him, startled. "You want me to keep Peyton away from her family?"
"I don't want you to be the reason Peyton comes back to her family. She won't, not on her own. But she loves you and you've never had one. She wants to give to the people she loves, and if she thinks this is something you want, she'll come home just to give you what you never had. And it'll destroy her, and what you two have. No one wants that. Well, I don't. She doesn't. You don't. So do her and yourself a favor and build your life without her family."
"But you love her."
"I do. And I'm going to be around, especially when I get out of college and can cut the apron strings. But in the meantime, I want my sister happy. Do that for me." He stares at me, and his eye aren't amused or laughing. He's dead serious. I nod and his lips twitch into a tired smile. "Thanks man. I--just thanks."
He hugs me, abruptly, and I go stiff, startled. Behind him, Scott is staring his eyes huge and laughing. Then he steps back and grins at me. “Take care of yourself, Rike.”
Chapter 24 : After
I want to strip the masks from you,
Until you are as
broken and
Raw and
Vulnerable.
As you leave me.
(Rike’s poems to Peyton)
“I need you to come home,” he says the next morning. I peer at him over a cup of coffee and he sits down across from me. He’s dressed in a pair of loose flannel sleep, pants his chest bare except for ink. And my teeth marks.
I flush, and look away.
“Why?" I ask and his eyebrows rise.
I shake my head, "Why now? What's different about now?"
"Lindsay is being released from the hospital. Scott has talked her into coming home. But she needs her family. She needs you, just as much as she needs him. It's an all or nothing kind of thing."
"So, no pressure, right?" I joke, and he shakes his head.
"No, Pey. This is all the pressure. I'm not going to lie to you about that. Scott and Lindsay are doing worse than we are, and we aren't even living in the same fucking state since you moved in with Brody. We're falling apart. I don't know that Scott’ll survive losing Lindsay. I need you to come home, because I can't lose my best friend and the love of my life. And we don't work without all of us."
I reach for him, squeezing his hand. "You don't have to talk me into this, Rike. I'm in this. I know I've been distant. And I'm sorry; I had to be. I had to figure out who I am."
"I know. I'm sorry. I want to give you time—" He sighs. Shakes his head. "No, I don't. I want to take you home, lock you in our room, and fuck you until you can't remember a time when we weren't together. Until I'm a part of you, so fucking wrapped up in you that there is no you or me. Just us. That's what I've wanted since the day you opened your eyes. But I've given you time and space because I know that what I wanted wasn't what you needed and I love you too much to force you into something."
"You aren't," I protest, and he holds up a hand.
"Let me finish, Peyton," he says.
I fall silent, stung just a little. He huffs out a breath. "I love you. I always will. But I'm not going to force you into this because I do. Not when you can't remember loving me. I love you too much for that. I would walk away and wait for you to come to me. I would wait for you forever, if I had to. But Lindsay doesn't have that kind of patience. She never has. We need you to keep her and our family together. The only person who matters to me the way you do is Scott." His gaze is pleading and sad when he finally lifts those bright blue eyes to look at me. "He's my brother and he's falling apart, Peyton. She's talking about going to her parents’ house. About never coming home. He can't—he can't lose her."
I put my coffee down and lean forward, catching his hand in mine. Squeezing it until his gaze finds mine, so desolate and broken.
I did this. I left him. He's not seeing Lindsay leaving Scott, and how that will fall out. He's remembering me leaving him, and how fucking horrible it will be for his best friend to live through that same nightmare.