by Tijan
Cross didn’t respond. Neither did I. There was really nothing more to say so instead, we resumed waiting for Jordan. We were outside the police station, and he’d gone inside to make his statement.
His parents went in with him.
We weren’t allowed, and when he came back out, both parents just shook their heads at us. He headed over, gave us the run-down, which was that he said nothing. He couldn’t remember how he got his bruises and cut-up face.
Cops weren’t happy. His parents weren’t happy. No one was happy, except us.
Well, technically because Zellman wasn’t happy.
He wanted to drive. Jordan said no.
Zellman said Jordan looked like a hospital patient.
Jordan didn’t care.
The argument was resolved when Cross took the keys and tossed them across the lot.
“First one gets the keys, drives.”
Zellman surged forward.
Jordan grabbed his head in the palm of his hand and shoved him backward. Z fell back, and Jordan was halfway over the lot by then. He swooped up the keys, but Zellman was in a mood about it all. I got it. It was a dick move that Jordan did, but it was also kinda nice to see some of that dickhead part of Jordan was still in there.
After all of that, we headed out of town.
We had a spot north of Fallen Crest and Frisco. We’d found it by accident one time when we were out for a drive, and we’d only been back a handful of times. But tonight was a night for the beach.
We had booze. Blankets. Lighter fluid for the fire. Food to grill if the guys got ambitious, but if they didn’t, we went through a drive-thru in the last town before our spot.
Jordan and Zellman were in the front. Cross and I took the back, and it’d been a rough drive, but we were there. Jordan pulled onto the gravel road that took us closer to the beach. From there, it was a hike down the cliff to our little alcove.
A small creek joined the ocean, sidewinding between two ridges of rock, and it was there we usually sat.
“We’re here,” Jordan said, the truck rocking to a stop just before he and Zellman got out.
They came around the back, and everyone grabbed something to carry. With our arms full, we started the trek down.
It wasn’t long, but it was steep enough that we needed to go slow or risk breaking an ankle.
“God.” Jordan stopped at the bottom and tipped his head back for a deep breath. “Why does the air feel lighter here than back home?”
Z went past him, grumbling, “It shouldn’t be. We learned why in school, but fuck if I know. I just know it’s not. You can breathe easier because Tab’s not looking for you here.”
“Ah.” Jordan’s tone was wry, watching Zellman stomp ahead of us. “Right. The voice of logic, that one.” He smiled faintly. “Who’s the scholar of our crew now?”
“Fuck you, dude!” Zellman held up his middle finger. “Google that shit. I’m right.” He paused a beat. “About both things!”
Jordan didn’t respond. His head lowered, his eyes closed, and then with a soft sigh, he started forward.
Cross and I followed. Zellman chose the spot by the creek and threw his items down. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he yelled over his shoulder, “Gonna look for shit to burn.”
“Now that’s the Zellman I recognize.”
Jordan’s voice was loud enough to be heard, but Zellman didn’t react. He just headed down the beach.
Jordan began rifling through the bags as Cross started to unfold the chairs, setting them in a circle. My job was to grab some rocks and outline where the fire would go, but I knew there would be a conversation. I was slow to get going. I wanted to hear it.
Cross’ eyes flicked to mine, and I gave him a small nod. Now or never.
“Why are you and Z fighting?” he asked.
Jordan didn’t look up, still rifling through the bags. He pulled out lighter fluid and matches. “Because we spend all our fucking time together.” A beat. He glanced up. “I mean, you and Bren are actually fucking, but he and I ain’t. You get my drift.”
“Har har.” I stepped in, slapping his shoulder.
Jordan chuckled, pulling out the food we’d grill. Guess he was feeling ambitious after all.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. We’re both just pissed, and taking it out on each other. That’s all. We’ll be fine. Give us booze, something to grill, something to burn, and let us bitch tonight. We’ll head back later feeling all refreshed and shit.”
I didn’t like my crew members hurting. It tore me up inside, but damned if these weren’t situations I could do nothing about it.
“I’m sorry, Jordan.”
He looked up at me. A small smile. “Thanks, B. We’ll figure it out. Always do.”
I wanted to believe that.
I didn’t.
Cross’ phone buzzed, and a second later, mine did too. I glanced down. It was Taz, and looking up, I didn’t even ask the question before Cross reached over and pressed the reject button.
As I put it back in my pocket, Jordan’s phone started going. “That about the Sunday dinner thing?”
Cross pivoted back. “What?”
Jordan rejected his call too, shoving the phone back in his pocket. “What’s going on? Sunday?”
I opened my mouth.
Cross spoke over me, his eyes hot on mine. “Really? You’re going to tell them?”
I closed my mouth, hurt searing my lungs for a second.
His eyes flashed a warning, and I felt pain slice my chest. He didn’t trust me? For serious?
“Uh…” Jordan’s eyes were narrowed, a hardness flashing there. “Wanna tell me why I’m supposed to deal with a girl I love talking about things I normally wouldn’t want her talking about, while you’re telling your girl to keep quiet about something maybe we should know? Hmmm?”
Yeah. He wasn’t happy. Not at all.
“It’s nothing serious.”
“Fuck you.”
Cross gave him a look, but Jordan wasn’t backing down. He stepped up, looking down at Cross from the two inches he had over him.
A shiver went down my spine, setting all the hair on the back of my neck upright.
I could’ve used Zellman right about now.
“Hey.” I stepped forward, my voice soft.
I maneuvered until I was between them, and then my hands went to Cross. He was like cement, and his chest muscles twitched under my hands, but his eyes never left Jordan’s.
“Hey.”
I pushed Cross back a foot before turning to peruse the scene.
Both were heated, but Jordan wasn’t as mad.
I spoke to him first. “You’re hurt.”
“Damn right I’m hurt.” He thrust his finger at Cross. “Maybe my patience is wearing thin. You’ve got shit happening in your household, and you ain’t saying shit to us about it. What the fuck’s that about, huh? Huh?! We’re here tonight ’cause of me. ’Cause I told you the shit going down with Z and myself. And you—you ain’t saying shit to us. Where’s the trust there, bro?”
Damn.
He had a point. He had a lot of points.
I kept quiet and glanced to Cross.
He had moved his gaze away, glaring at the beach now.
“Bren?” Jordan asked. “Can you fill me in? What. Sunday. Dinner?”
I closed my eyes. Just needed a second here.
I was officially being asked to choose crew over a relationship, and just like that, Cross’ words came back to haunt me, something he said last semester. “Your first loyalty is to the crew, but mine is to you.”
I felt my heart being ripped out, just as it had been then. He had it in his hand. It was still beating, pumping, but he was holding me captive.
As if sensing what was going on inside of me, Cross finally made the decision for me.
“You know my parents are divorcing,” he said.
“Yeah. I mean, is that what this is all about—”
“My dad has another kid.”
&
nbsp; What?! Shock ricocheted through me, pinging back and forth until I was almost swaying on my feet.
“What?” I moved toward Cross.
He moved away, shaking his head. “I can’t even explain everything because it’s all so seriously fucked up.” He drew in a sharp breath. “My dad had an affair a long time ago. He’s always been on the road for his job, but I didn’t know about the affair until a month ago.”
A month… He’d known a month and hadn’t told me.
I tried not to be hurt by that.
But that stung.
Jordan cast me a pitying look. That didn’t help.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“My parents’ relationship has been all fucked up for an entire year. I don’t know. I don’t know what happened. A part of me doesn’t want to know, but I know that whatever happened back then, they got over it. Things were all good, and then my mom cheated. And I don’t know…” He turned toward the ocean, his voice so raw.
I felt a tear welling up, and I blinked it away. I shoved down a lump in my throat.
“I don’t know the details, but I know his new woman is the woman he had an affair with, and the kid is in Fallen Crest. He’s a senior this year.”
Jordan looked like a statue.
Neither of us could speak.
“Taz doesn’t know.”
Oh… I was almost falling down at this point. I sat instead.
Jordan let out a strangled laugh, sinking down next to me. “That’s…” He leaned forward, resting his arms over his knees. “Holy shit, Cross. That’s—I don’t even know what that is.” He turned his head, angling back to look up at Cross. “You got a brother, man?”
Cross didn’t respond, still staring at the ocean.
He blinked a few times, and I saw a tear slip down. He ignored it, looking back at us. New emotion shone through him. I saw it break past a wall, and the torment there had the lump in my throat doubling in size.
I surged to my feet. I just had to hold him, have him in my arms. Unlike the last time, he stepped into me. His head went to my shoulder, my neck, and he wrapped his arms around me.
We stood that way a long time before he pulled away, his thumb flicking at the corner of his eye. “Sorry. I—fuck.” He let out a ragged breath, sitting at my side.
“That’s rough,” Jordan said softly.
Cross nodded. “Yeah.”
“Hey!”
Jordan turned around. “Ah. Z’s coming back.”
Zellman was scowling and waving his phone in the air. “Why’s Taz all pissed at you guys? You wouldn’t take her calls or something?”
Cross laughed, and Jordan rolled his eyes, standing again. “Yeah.” He ignored the question, gesturing to Z’s empty hands. “I see you brought a lot back to burn, huh?”
Zellman lifted a middle finger. “Burn this.”
Jordan laughed, smacking Z’s shoulder. “Come on. I have stuff in the truck. Safe stuff we can burn. Help me carry it down.”
“What? Why?”
“Just come on.”
We could hear Zellman arguing, but he went with him, protesting the whole way.
Once they were out of earshot, Cross leaned forward, his head dropping down, almost between his knees. “Fuck, Bren.”
I couldn’t take away his hurt, but I wanted to. So badly. Instead, I could only rub his back. “I’m sorry about your brother.”
A wry laugh ripped from him. “Dad had a kid, around the same time he got our mom pregnant. Can you imagine that? Two lives almost.”
“Has he known this whole time?”
He stiffened. “I don’t know.” He sighed. “Shit. I should know that before judging him, right?”
I didn’t know how to respond. Cross had been quiet about his family for so long. The little bit I did know had just slipped out over the years. But I knew it tortured him. I knew there was so much anger, and now it made sense, but I had no idea how to talk to him about it.
Did he want me to ask questions? Offer words of comfort? Scheme how to send this half-brother away?
I had no clue, so I turned off my mind and went with my gut.
I started low, in a quiet voice, and moved so our legs were touching. “I can’t speak to finding out your dad has a secret kid, or there was an affair, or how your mom had an affair of her own. I have no clue how that all works in a family. I’m guessing there’s trust that’s been ripped away. Hurt. Pain. Anger.” I was trying, but I had no clue what I was saying.
“Look, I—from what I’ve been hearing, it seems like your parents are both okay with the divorce…”
Cross shoved to his feet. “But I’m not okay! Who the fuck decides on dissolving a family? Taz and I didn’t get a say in that. It was—I thought they were good. I think…”
But he didn’t, and I knew he didn’t.
“Cross.” I caught his hand, tugging him back down. “What—”
“They were forcing it. Faking everything.”
I closed my mouth.
“Looking back, I know the exact moment they stopped. And it’s not when they started fighting. It’s when they stopped pretending to be this happy solid unit.” He leaned forward again, his hands catching his head. His fingers slid through his hair. “I’ve been trying to remember a time when they weren’t so stiff around each other, when they didn’t seem like they wanted to tear each other’s heads off, when the smiles weren’t forced, and I swear to God, I can’t remember. There’s always been this undercurrent of hate between them, and I felt it growing up. Growing up, Bren.”
He looked at me, his eyes haunted. “Taz has no idea. She’s hurting, but she’s trying to do this whole charade that she’s ‘being there’ for Mom and Dad, that ‘if this is what makes Mom and Dad happy, we need to support them.’ And fuck that. Fuck her. Fuck THEM!”
“I’m sorry, Cross.”
He shook his head, sighing. “You ever grow up and find out most of your life was a lie? ’Cause that’s how I feel right now.”
That I could feel. That I could understand.
“Yeah.”
One word, so simple, but Cross remembered. A wall fell from around him, one I hadn’t realized was there, and he reached for my hand. “God, Bren. I’m sorry. I’m pissing and moaning about my family when—”
I stopped him. “I grew up in a house where there were no lies. It was obvious Channing hated everyone. My mom was dying. My dad was an alcoholic. I mean, I have no idea how to relate to your situation except that you’re losing your family, and that...” I laced our fingers together, squeezing. “That I can relate to, and that sucks.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry for not letting you in.” He motioned in the direction the guys had gone. “Them too. It wasn’t really a decision to keep you guys out. I was trying to keep myself out. I didn’t want to deal. You know?”
I understood. “Yeah,” I whispered as I rested my forehead against his. “But don’t do it again.”
He cracked a grin. “Deal.”
“Oh-kay!” Jordan’s voice boomed behind us. He and Zellman were suddenly there, marching over the sand. Both had their arms full of wood and coolers. “We were waiting, but saw you two about to start macking, so we figured it was safe again.”
Zellman frowned down at us. “What’s going on? Asshole wouldn’t tell me, so you have to. Now.” He tightened his hold on the logs against his chest. “Tell me, or I’m dropping a log on your shoes right now, and I may not be talking about the wood I’m holding.”
I scowled. “That’s the grossest threat I’ve heard from you.”
Zellman didn’t break. “Spill the beans, or I’m spilling different beans.” His fixed us with a blank stare. “Don’t think I’m bluffing.”
We didn’t.
Which is why we loved him.
Cross stood, taking some of the logs. “How about we make a fire, grill some food, drink some booze, and I’ll fill you in during the process?”
Zellman grunted. “Why didn’t you just do that in the f
irst place? Do you think I enjoy resorting to threats? It hurts my soul.”
We all snorted. That was such a lie.
Zellman grinned.
“Is that him?” Zellman popped up from the back of Jordan’s truck.
“What?” Cross looked, leaning forward, then rested back again. “No. I told you, I only saw one picture of him, and it was when he was little—like twelve or something. He plays soccer.” He paused a beat. “And he has brown hair. That kid has bleached blond hair.”
We weren’t at school. We weren’t where we should’ve been. Nope. After telling Zellman everything, Z had suggested we stay up all night drinking, then come to Fallen Crest Academy once our buzz had worn off to scope the half-brother.
“I want to see him.” That’s what he said, and that started off the chain of events.
And because both Jordan and Cross had been feeling a buzz already, they’d heralded it as the best idea ever. So here we were. Scoping.
My phone rang, and seeing Channing’s name on the screen, I muttered a curse.
Cross looked and laughed. “You didn’t tell him we’d be out last night?”
I groaned. “You know the answer to that. I just got this thing yesterday.”
It kept ringing.
Jordan shook his head, still watching out the window. “Just answer it. We don’t want your brother tracking you here and having Moose or Congo showing up to haul us back.”
“Yeah.” Zellman’s head pushed in through the back window, narrowly missing mine. His breath wafted over my ear. “Especially when we’re trying to do espionage shit.”
I moved my head away, scowling. “Pretty sure you hocked a loogie in my ear using that word. Don’t.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Thought you were chipper as long as you got your coffee. What’s with the attitude?”
I was ready to kill him. My hand formed a fist as I ignored my still-ringing phone. I started to turn around. “Really?”
Cross grabbed my wrist at the same time Jordan took my phone out of my other hand. “Bren.”
Jordan answered the phone. “Yo, Godfather. What’s up?”
I snarled at Zellman. “This ‘attitude’ came from being woken up by your farts every five fucking minutes. Do you realize how loud you are when you’re sleeping? ‘Let’s all stay on the beach, guys.’” I imitated him. “‘We have sleeping bags, guys. It’ll be fun, guys. Bonding crew moment, guys.’” I shot forward, almost hitting him with my face. “Back off of me right now. I love you, Z, but I want to kill you.”
