“Did they ever tell you? About Joel?”
“Yeah. My mom sat me down when I turned seventeen and told me I had an older brother somewhere out there. She didn’t even know if he was alive. She was just hoping that he was. At the time, I didn’t want to know him. I figured we were over ten years apart, and we’d have nothing in common. Until he reached out to me my senior year of high school. I still have no idea how he found out I existed.”
“What did he say?”
“He fed me a load of crap about wanting to get to know his little brother, and I believed him for a while. He started asking me for money a few weeks after that. It wasn’t a lot of money at first, but every time I said yes, he’d take it as a sign to ask for more. I was working on the weekends and would burn through all of my paychecks to help him out. He’d lie to me and say he needed cash to get his life back on track and go to rehab. He didn’t want me to tell our mom and blamed it on his addiction, claiming he wanted to get clean before he saw her again. Then one day, I followed him and saw him snorting lines with his friends. That was the last straw. I told him to stop contacting me and cut all ties with him. I hadn’t talked to him in a year and a half when he reached out to ask me to visit him in jail.”
“That sucks, I’m sorry.”
He shrugs. “Meh. I got off easy if you think about it. I grew up in a good home, had loving parents, while he had a sixteen-year-old drug addict for a mother. Joel’s the one to feel sorry for.”
My response is delayed by the harsh thoughts colliding in my head. Maybe that makes me insensitive, but I don’t feel bad for Joel.
Plenty of people get dealt shitty hands in life. Having a tough childhood doesn’t give you permission to run people over. But then again, I might see things differently if I’d been the one living on the street at ten years old.
“Talk about a small world.” It comes out as a whisper.
Chance shoves a hand through his hair. “Tell me about it.”
We don’t speak for a few seconds.
“I didn’t even ask, how did the visit go?”
I ran out of there before Joel even sat down at the table with Chance, and I’ve been wondering what happened since.
Chance lets out a scoff. “Exactly like I thought it would. He’s still the same manipulative asshole he’s always been.”
“What did he want?”
“Money for his expenses while he’s in prison, what else?”
“I thought he wanted to see you one last time before he got transferred to another state?”
“So did I.” A drop of disappointment bleeds through his voice. “You should know he’s still pissed at Finn. He’s obsessed with getting his revenge. He even asked me to pass along a message to him.”
“What message?” I’m not sure I want to know.
“He said, and I quote, ‘Once I’m out of here, I’m coming for you and your whore.’”
Silence submerges the car as I try to process Joel’s threat.
“He’s probably full of shit, but just in case…”
I nod. “I’ll pass it along.”
This draws the topic to a close, all the while bringing light to the unfinished business weighing on my chest. We both know today is our expiration date, but I feel the need to mark the ending of our story with a proper goodbye.
I clear my throat. “Look, about what happened at the party—”
“Don’t. You weren’t ready, and you should never have to apologize for that.”
My heart warms. Most guys would’ve gladly let me carry the blame.
“At the risk of sounding like an enormous cliché, it had nothing to do with you.”
“If you say it’s not you, it’s me, I’m kicking you out of the car.” Chance points his finger at me like it’s a threat, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
I laugh.