Steve’s treatment starts immediately. I guess when you’re paying so much for it, medical treatment becomes more easily available. I try not to think of it as a bad sign that maybe he’s so sick the doctors are making him a priority. Saying goodbye to him that morning without it feeling too final is hard.
Amber goes to the hospital and stays with Steve, and I’m left in the house with my stepbrothers.
I stay in my room for most of that day, worrying and worrying about what is happening. Maisie would be great right now, with reassuring phrases and comforting platitudes, but I don’t know how to tell her what is happening without breaking down. I’m just about holding myself together without uttering a word. I know that as soon as I open my mouth, the floodgate keeping my emotions at bay will burst open.
By the early afternoon, I’m hungry and thirsty and emotionally wrung out. I need comfort food and to watch a funny movie to lose myself in something. I am my father’s daughter.
I’m hoping the boys will be out, maybe at practice or a friend’s house. I’m hoping that they will also have been looking for a distraction.
As I walk past the den, I find out that they’re all still here and doing what I wanted to do. They have a table of snacks and drinks and are slumped on the sofas watching Dumb and Dumber—not a bad choice for mindless entertainment.
I manage to skulk past without anyone seeing me. At least I think I do, until Brayson appears in the kitchen.
“Hey,” he says. “I was worried about you.”
“I’m okay.” I head to the fridge and grab a beer. It seems like the perfect day for a drink. I remember that first day that I came to this house. Sharing a beer with Steve had seemed significant. I don’t think I’ll ever forget how happy he looked that I was here with him.
There is a drawer of chocolate in the fridge, and I grab a packet of M&M’s and a Snickers. If I were alone, I would have taken more. I would have gorged myself until I felt sick to try and wipe away this sadness that has taken up residence inside me.
Brayson’s mouth quirks at the side, but he can’t muster a smile either. This day is weighing heavily on us all.
“Jefferson told us what happened last night.”
His hand touches my arm, and he steps forward as though he’s going to pull me into an embrace. “That he shouted at me,” I say, stepping back.
“He’s hurting,” Brayson says, back on the defense of his twin, but this time I don’t want to hear it. Jefferson has had enough hall passes on his behavior to last a lifetime. We’re all hurting, but no one else is lashing out like Jefferson. No one else is kicking all their toys out of the pram like a spoiled toddler.
“No more than the rest of us,” I say, “but you don’t see me verbally abusing anyone else, do you?”
“He knows he’s in the wrong,” Brayson says. “It’s why he told me what happened. He knows that I’ll try to make him feel better. It’s what I always do. He knows I’ll check up on you, and that he won’t need to do it.”
“He passes the buck to you to act like the mature adult in his place.”
Brayson nods. “Jefferson can’t deal with it, Sara. Not with what’s going on with dad, or with you.”
“He seems fine to deal with the sex.” My voice has a sneer in it that I wasn’t expecting. This fuck buddy relationship was my idea, after all.
“I’m not talking about sex. I’m talking about the way he feels about you. The way we all feel.”
His pretty eyes scan my face, looking for a response. I know how I must look because I can feel the surprise in my expression like a rabbit in headlights. “It’s just a fling, Brayson. Nothing major.” I say, but I don’t sound anywhere near as sure as I want to.
“We care about you, Sara, and we know you care about us.”
“It’s a fling,” I say again, trying to sound firmer.
Brayson shakes his head. “That’s the way it started, but that’s not how it is now.”
“Nothing’s changed,” I say firmly, and this time he doesn’t argue with me any further. Instead, he opens a cupboard and finds a huge bag of popcorn. “This any good?” he says, holding it up.
“Definitely.” I’m about to head to the door when he puts his hand on my arm again.
“It was you, wasn’t it?”
“What was me?”
“The money. I talked to Jefferson…put two and two together…that’s why you needed to go to the bank that day.”
Oh fuck. My stupid mouth. I’m faced with having to lie, and I don’t want to do that to Brayson. It isn’t fair, but that doesn’t mean I have to spill my guts either. “You’re missing the movie,” I say softly.
He nods, his eyes liquid soft, but he doesn’t probe again. He’s patient and understanding in a way that I’ve never encountered before. His tattoo and all its images of love are there in full color, and my heart wants him to wrap those strong, kind arms around me and tell me that everything is going to be okay. It wants it so bad that it hurts, but I know I’ll break down, and none of us need that.
This is a time to stay strong. It’s a time to be positive. It’s time to pray that our dad will get better and that this family will stay complete. At that moment, I make a decision and a promise to the universe. If my dad recovers, I’m going to walk away. I’m never going to tell my stepbrothers that I have feelings for them much greater than lust and desire. I’ll forget all about the way it feels to rest in their arms and the way it feels when they touch me. I’ll forget about my heart and the little bubbles of contentment that I’ve felt there over the past few weeks. I’ll forget how each of these boys feels like a puzzle piece that completes me. I’ll forget how much I want Jefferson to let go of all his hurt, and find a way to trust the way I never seem to be able to either.
I’ll leave this family to go back to exactly how they were before the cancer and I broke in.
