I’d known him for years and he’d always been like this. Quick to anger, slow to forgive, moody as hell. He was either horny enough to fuck night and day, or so withdrawn he didn’t even want to be touched.
But we understood each other in a way no one else could. We’d bonded through trauma, clinging to each other when the hopelessness of our teen years had felt like it would never end. It was a bond that wouldn’t break.
The four of us had chosen to build our lives together, and that meant dealing with each other even at our worst.
“I didn’t ask about Alex,” I said, remembering the dick who’d punched me in the face right before I threatened to slit his throat from ear to ear. There was nothing quite like being bullied until you’re ready to kill someone. But I’d never forget how fast that fucker’s expression had changed from smug to terrified when he realized I’d fight back. “I figured he’d be there though. Considering it’s a holiday, I doubt he’ll be staying home. Hell, Kyle could show up for all I know.”
“And that wouldn’t bother you?” Lucas stubbed the cigarette out under his boot. “That wouldn’t fucking bother you to see that asshole’s face, after he did this —” He tapped my jaw with his knuckles, right where a scar remained. “— and this?” Another tap, another scar, and his attitude was starting to raise my blood pressure.
If he’d touched my face like that a few years ago, I would have swung without thinking. It had happened before, because Lucas had no impulse control when he was like this, and I had no control over those fight-or-flight spikes that inevitably leaned towardfight.
I’d gotten better, I’dmademyself better. Pills, meditation, therapy, whatever it took. I wasn’t going to continue the cycle mydad had roped me into.
“Lucas, you gotta chill.” I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep them under control. “You’re a level ten right now, man. You have to bring it down. Otherwise I can’t talk to you.”
He exhaled furiously as he paced, then rubbed his hand over his buzzed hair. After a moment, he stood still and took another deep breath.
“Right, right, sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, Manson, you know, I — You know I’m sorry.”
He fell silent, giving himself a few moments to get his thoughts back in order. Haribo came to sit by my foot, and I reached down, giving him a scratch behind the ears.
“There’s plenty of people in this town I don’t like seeing either,” I said. “But we’ll all be there. Who’s going to fuck with all of us together?”
“Some asshole who doesn’t know what’s good for them, probably.” He shook his head, but the tension had drained out of his face.
“Then, you’ll still come?” He gave me an uncertain look, grimacing. “Come on, I know you don’t want to sit at home and sulk.”
He shoved my shoulder with a laugh. “Fine, fine. I’ll go. But no guarantees that I’ll be well-behaved. Are you going to get your ass to work soon or what?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. Let me go grab yesterday’s mail first. Some assholes have been stealing it again.” He just waved his arm at me over his shoulder as he stalked back into the garage.
A narrow dirt road led past our house, shaded by walnut trees. I followed it to the main road, Route 15, wiping the sweat from my forehead. I couldn’t wait for summer to be over with; I wasn’t built for this heat. I was looking forward to the cooler, drier autumn days.
“Goddamn it,” I groaned when I found the mailbox knockedover on its side, its wooden post splintered in half, the metal box mangled. It looked like someone had slammed into it with their truck — likely on purpose.
“Motherfuckers.” I picked the mailbox out of the weeds and leaned it against what remained of its post. Yet another thing we’d have to find time to fix. I wrenched open the door, breaking it off in the process and tossing it away. The mail was gone too. Fantastic.
Another fine day in beautiful, welcoming Wickeston.
4
Jessica
Being back in my hometown was strange, especially considering I never thought I’d live here again. Wickeston billed itself as “a charming slice of Western Tennessee,” but as I drove through downtown, it was hard to see the charm. A few cute historical buildings and 1950s-themed cafes didn’t change the fact that this place was dull.
We had a few big box stores and chain restaurants, nothing like the plethora of options I’d had while living in Nashville the past couple years. Most people were so damn bored that they entertained themselves by getting into everyone else’s business.
Like my mother, for example. I’d only been in town for a week and she had honed in on my love life with single-minded focus. Why thehellwas I still single? Forget work, forget unpacking, don’t eventhinkabout taking a breath after moving halfway across the state. I needed to get back out there and meet a potential husband, regardless of how many volunteer events she had to foist on me to make it happen.
It was like high school all over again. Mom was right back to putting my entire life on her precisely timed schedule, and according to her, I was running late. I’d wasted all my time getting an education when I should have been pursuing my truecalling of becoming a trophy wife and grandbaby-producer as quickly as possible.
It wasn’t like I could tell Mom no. Her house, her rules.
It was a sweltering, humid day as I pulled into the parking lot at her church. I hadn’t attended a service in nearly twelve years, but that was irrelevant to her. Her worship group was hosting a car wash fundraiser for the upcoming 4th of July Festival, and there was already a line of cars forming when I arrived.
God, this was going to give me horrible tan lines. Mom had insisted I dress “modestly” — most specifically, “no little booby tops and hussy shorts.”
Well, that was exactly what I was wearing. A low-cut top and cute frayed denim shorts. To be fair, they were the longest shorts I owned anddidcover my entire ass. Barely. Honestly, Mom should have been grateful I’d put on a white t-shirt instead of only wearing the bikini top I had on underneath.