But it’s not. I can tell from the tension in his shoulders, in his face. “Cut the bullshit. Tell me.”
I want him to open up and tell me.
I want him to pretend all is fine and tell me to mind my own business.
Fuck. What’s the matter with me? I want to help my friends. I want to be the one they can rely on, as they’ve been doing so far. So why is my heart jackhammering in my chest just at the thought of shouldering any more responsibility?
He says nothing as we brush by groups of people, and I think for a moment that he forgot about my comment.
But apparently he hasn’t. “Teo is sick.”
I miss a step and almost end up on my ass. Fuck, no, not this. Teo is Dylan’s younger brother. He’s only six, dammit. Not fair.
Then again, what’s ever fair? How’s it fair for Emma, who has two little kids?
“What’s wrong with him?” I force myself to ask, and all I see in my mind is Emma’s emaciated face, her hollow eyes. Cold sweat is trickling down my back.
“Doctors don’t know yet.” Dylan slows down and gives me a long look. “You okay, Zen-man? You don’t look too hot.”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Have you eaten yet?” When I shake my head, he points to the left. “There’s the food. Let’s get you fed.”
Without another word, I follow him to the grill. As the first whiff of barbecued meat hits me, my stomach growls like a mutant werewolf.
A bearded guy with a huge stomach wields the barbecue tongs like samurai swords, and he barely glances up when we arrive. However, a thinner, long-haired guy with a T-shirt reading ‘Count your dressings’, has plates stacked with burgers and sausages in front of him, and he passes on two to us.
Deciding that’s as good a distraction as any, I stuff my face as I follow Dylan to a pool with a bar. Someone waves at us from the bar stools, and I recognize Ash and Tyler, then I see Erin and Audrey.
No sign of Dakota. Damn.
“Where’s Rafe?” I plant my ass next to Erin and filch one of her fries. She slaps my hand. Typical. “Is he coming?”
“Nah, something came up,” Tyler says and licks his greasy fingers.
“Like what?”
“Something to do with his uncle, I think.” Tyler’s dark eyes narrow. “Why? Anything I should be worried about?”
“No, nothing.” I chew the bite I took of my burger and swallow with difficulty. I almost choke. Rafe’s uncle. Family issues in that household never bode well. I look for the bartender. “Hey, can I get a beer?”
“Slow down, man.” Tyler frowns at me, and I really don’t need a motherfucking nanny.
“Slow down yourself. This was a party, last I looked.”
His brows lift. Yeah, he’s not used to me in such a mood. Tough. It’s not like I can help it. Though a few more beers might help.
The bartender appears and gives me a beer, no questions asked. I salute him. He deserves a medal. The cool alcohol helps me swallow, and I breathe more easily. I pull out my cell and call Rafe.
He doesn’t pick up. Not that that’s unusual, but with my mindset these days, I can imagine accidents, knives flashing, guns cocked, triggers pulled and pools of blood… I have a good imagination, made all the more vivid by the nasty crap it’s been fed during my less than stellar childhood.
“He’s okay, Z-man,” Ash says, nailing me with a look. “I talked to him earlier. Just some paperwork about his house.”
I nod vaguely and down the rest of my beer. Yeah. I bet he’s as fine as I am. Fine as rain. Rafe’s demons are so bad I don’t even know if I can ever help him.
As for Dylan… I glance at him sitting there, wolfing down his burgers, and swallow a sigh. I once thought he’d be the first of us to bounce back and resume his life. Star school quarterback, college scholarship in his pocket, best grades, a girlfriend who loved him…
When it all went to shit, I thought one of those things would push him back up to the surface. But he kept sinking. Things at home only got worse and worse, until he hit rock bottom. I sometimes I wonder what I think I’m doing. If there is anything I can do.