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Hearing confirmation that my dad has no intention of getting involved still stings, as if this was the first time he’s ever let me down.
“You’re fucking useless,” I spit, my breathing hard and shallow.
“Hey,” my dad says half-heartedly, “don’t talk to me like that. I’m still your father.”
“Yeah?” I say, crushing my cigarette into the ground, my eyes burning him with all the hatred I have in me. “Couldn’t tell.”
It’searly Monday morning and I’m sitting on a hard plastic chair in the reception area of our local precinct. I slept at the house last night after my shift at Orso, wanting to drive the kids to school on their first day. Huxley’s arrest couldn’t have happened at a worse time.
Shit. I guess there’s never a good time for Huxley to get arrested.
Sophia was still awake when I got home. Instead of telling her to go to bed, we stayed up playing video games and talking about everything but our brother being in jail.
Huxley’s bail was set to twenty-thousand, and even ten percent of that amount nearly wiped out the entirety of my savings.
I shoot to my feet when I see my brother turn the corner, bleary-eyed, gray t-shirt wrinkled and looking likehe didn’t sleep a wink last night. I have a feeling I’m sporting a similar look.
His hand tightens around the plastic bag holding his personal effects when he spots me. My throat tightens along with it, a suffocating wave of guilt washing over me when the sudden reality of how dire this is finally hits me.
I failed him.
I fucking failed him.
Huxley doesn’t smile when he sees me. Why would he? He barely acknowledges me as he passes by me, heading for the exit. I wordlessly follow him to my car, unlocking the passenger door from inside.
It takes leaving the parking lot for me to finally say something. I try to keep my tone patient.
“What the hell happened, Hux?”
He scoffs, readjusting himself in his seat. “Don’t pretend to care now.”
Frustration travels up my spine like the hot flash of a flame.
“Look, this isn’t the time to playpoor fucking me, Huxley. We’ve all had a hard fucking life. All four of us had the same shitty parents growing up. But you’re the only one who seems dead set on following in their footsteps.”
The car falls silent, and I immediately regret comparing him to our parents. But I chew on my lip refusing to voice my remorse.
Huxley takes a long deep breath before he begins to speak.
“I was with the Finnegans.”
I groan internally. The Finnegan brothers. Their family has an even worse reputation than ours. I fight against the urge to ask him why the hell he was with those two since they’re well into their twenties and Hux is a month shy ofturning eighteen. Instead, I wait for him to continue to speak.
“It was just supposed to be a quick and easy break-in. We chose an easy target and everything—the liquor store Patrick used to work at. He knew the code for the back door. I was supposed to be the getaway driver … hotwired an old Buick in the neighborhood. But then …” Huxley squirms in his seat, dragging his hand over his mouth.
“Fucking hell,”I curse under my breath. This is worse than I thought. “What happened next?”
He swallows hard. Clears his throat. “Turns out the owner was still in the back office. They tried to fight him off and ended up knocking him out with a fire extinguisher, then ran.”
“Oh my god,” I choke out, barely able to breathe. Stopping at a red light, I rest my head over my hands gripping the steering wheel before looking back at my younger brother.
“This is fucking serious, Huxley. Do you understand that?”
“I know,” he mutters, crossing his arms and staring straight ahead.
My voice is rising and I can’t do anything to stop it. “That’s grand theft auto! Not to mention assault on top of breaking and entering!”
“I. Know,” he says slowly in between clenched teeth.
