“What did it feel like for you?” I start, staring at my beer, uninterested in actually drinking it. “When Millie was threatened? I mean, I know my kid isn’t born yet. I don’t think her sister would hurt her, but how the fuck do I know?”
“Hey.” Xan leans into me. “Just because your son isn’t born doesn’t mean he’s any less real than Millie. It’s terrifying. Every moment for the rest of your life will be filled with terror. But dude, go with her. Because do you know what I would give to have been able to see Millie when she was born? To hold her, watch her grow, hear her first words, and teach her how to throw and ride a bike? Fuck.”
He sits back in his chair with bewilderment on his face, as if it’s the first time he’s said that out loud.
Del puts a beer down in front of Jet, and he pounds it back with a deep frown on his face. I’d never thought of any of that. All I saw was Nova pregnant—logically understanding that our baby was in there, growing, but not fully grasping the idea. I felt him move, felt his feet push against my palm. But beyond that, I don’t have experience with babies. Not like Xan and Jet. Tabby is younger than me, but barely. Sixteen months. Xan remembers all of us except Jet. They’re only eleven months apart.
“I don’t know what to do to protect her.”
“Just be there for her.” Jet finishes his pint and shakes his head when Del moves to get up.
“Sometimes I can’t,” I blurt, and both of them tilt their heads in unison. “I mean, sometimes I lose touch of myself. I get in these moods where it all feels so far away.” I rub my hand over my face because the words aren’t coming out right. I shift in my seat and lean forward, pushing through the discomfort of admitting my struggle with feelings. I have to practice, I guess.
“I go numb,” I continue with a long pause. “Like Mom. Sometimes when things are overwhelming, I just check out. I was worried about being like him. Having a kid and being him. But I’m more like her. I don’t want to be like her either.”
Xan and Jet stay silent for a long while, then look at each other. Like this grand epiphany I’ve had was glaringly apparent to everyone else… except me.
“You’re not her.” Jet says, and I cut him off.
“What if I fuck it up? I don’t want to fuck this up.” I close my eyes and let the truth of it soak up, but there’s that small wiggling historical fact inching its way to the front of my mind. “Ialwaysmess shit up.”
Hands are on my shoulders, and I look up into Pris’s face.
“That’s a damn lie, and you know it,” she says, and her upside-down scowl is more amusing than threatening.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, and she hugs me awkwardly, which is very uncharacteristic of her. I glance at Del, who looks guilty, and she sets her phone on the table. Tabby’s name shines up from the screen.
“You staged an intervention.” I laugh, and Del flashes a toothy smile, her big eyes shining. She nods like she feels zero guilt.
“I did. Because you need to know we’re here for you. I mean, if you want me to accompany you and kick the shit out of some bitch, I’m down.”
“Delilah,” Pris deadpans, sitting next to me.
“What?” Del says. “I’d love to go to Nashville, though, so I’m not going to lie and say there isn’t some selfishness in this. She did say she knows Q.” Del waggles her eyebrows. Pris’s mouth pinches tighter like she’s annoyed, but her shoulders stiffen, and she looks to her lap at the mention of the country singer.
“Who cares about Q, Del,” Pris mumbles. When she looks up, she’s back to herself.
“Fine, no Q.”
Xan rubs his eyes like we exhaust him, and Jet leans back with one arm casually thrown over his chair, waiting for whatever this is to play out.
“Can we not, right now?” Xan huffs and points to me. “Back to the real issue here.”
I slump in my chair, my mind buzzing with everything that’s happened.
“The issue is I want to fix this, but I need help. I’m just the guy who never takes anything seriously and lets people down. I’m an asshole. That’s all you guys know me as. What makes you think I’ll be any different for her? For this kid?”
My sisters look to the ground. Jet leans forward, grabbing the front of my shirt and tugging me closer.
“You don’t have to prove anything to us,” Jet says. “We’re family. This kid is family now. You have nothing to prove.”
He lets me go, and I spring back into my seat. Jesus. That’s the most aggressive show of affection I’ve ever received.
Xan is the next to speak. “You are a critical member of this family, Ezekiel. Until you came along, everything was so dark and bleak and serious. You make us laugh. You lighten this fucking hell we grew up in. You are the one that brings us together, brings us back to ourselves when we get so caught up in everything else. No one lives in the moment like you do. No one rolls with life like you do. Man, it’s enviable. I’ve been envious of you since you were little.” He claps me on my shoulder, shaking me. “We’d never have survived without you.”
“All you ever do is call me a dumbass or an asshole or lecture me about my attitude,” I say. “How am I supposed to interpret that as being part of this?”
Del springs from her chair and rushes me, throwing her arms around my neck, and tears pour from her eyes. This is unlike her. Even Pris is more rigid than usual, her eyes shining like she’d rather implode on herself than shed one tear.