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We rode in silence for a moment before I tarnished it. “I’m just nervous about seeing her.”
“Why are you nervous?” Porter asked.
“I don’t know. Something about her giving a shit.”
“So because she gives a shit, you don’t want to see her?” He merged onto the highway.
“Maybe,” I sighed. “I don’t know. It would be easier if nobody cared.”
Porter smirked. “You’re outta luck there.”
I grinned. The more I got to know Porter, the better I liked him. I was glad Gina had found someone so solid. I wanted the best for her and her baby. It seemed like Porter fit the bill.
We drove for a good fifteen minutes, and Porter and I settled into talking about work. He wanted to know how it was going, and I skirted the issue of Danny and his nonexistent work ethic. I explained how customers sometimes took advantage of the delivery service to ask us to haul two or three boards.
Porter shook his head. “If that’s what they want to do, I guess it’s fine.”
“I agree,” I said. It didn’t matter to me whether I was driving a light load or not. I got paid all the same.
Porter turned into a driveway in the middle of a quiet neighborhood. The house was small and square. A few windows set into a brick face with flowers planted all around made for a welcoming image. It wasn’t the cabin in the woods that I had been expecting. I wasn’t sure why, but Porter struck me as a cabin type of guy. This house was very working class with its neat lawn and clean exterior. I was just about to compliment it when Porter cut me off.
“I want to talk to you about Aly,” he said.
I’d been expecting this. “Don’t hurt her or you’ll run me out of town? It doesn’t matter who I’m related to? Is that it?”
“That’s it.” Porter sighed, putting on the parking brake. “But I mean it.”
“Good. I’m glad someone’s looking out for her.”
We got out of the truck and I grabbed my grocery bag. There was a Kia in the driveway in front of Porter’s truck, a cute little cherry-red car that screamed Gina. Growing up, she had always favored reds and pinks and the car looked like an oversizedBarbie mobile. I held my breath, knowing that I had passed the point of no return.
I tried to consider why I was so nervous about seeing my sister. With Mom’s passing and Dad’s constant disapproval, Gina had been the only family member I got along with. George was already on his way to being an addict when I left, and that meant only Gina had understood what I was going through in high school. I didn’t have anyone outside the family to talk to. I had been detached from the world and consumed by my own thoughts.
Since the last time we’d seen each other, I had been through a lot. I had seen friends ripped to shreds before my eyes. I had seen women and children killed; entire convoys destroyed. That kind of violence never does good things to a soul. I didn’t feel worthy of Gina anymore. I didn’t feel worthy of Dad or Porter, but I let those relationships slide. Gina was different—I actually cared about her.
Porter went right up to the door and opened the lock. He stepped inside, gesturing for me to follow. I took a deep breath and stepped in after him. The home opened up in a living room area, with beige carpet and tan leather couches.
Colorful plastic toys were scattered all around the room, poking out from behind the sofa, creating a minefield. The living room ended in a small island that wrapped around the kitchen. To one side, both kitchen and living room merged into a dining alcove, with an oval table big enough to seat six. A hallway branched off opposite the dining area, presumably leading to bedrooms and bathrooms.
Gina was standing in the kitchen, chopping vegetables. She looked up, a wicked knife in one hand. I had a flash of guilt fornot stopping by sooner and wondered if she would skewer me in retaliation. Of course, it was a ridiculous thought. She put the blade down and came out from behind the island, grinning from ear to ear.
“Linc!” She threw her arms around me, pressing us together as if the years had meant nothing.
“I’m sorry I didn’t—” I began.
She cut me off. “It doesn’t matter.”
And like that, we were on good terms again. I gave her the flowers, and she found a vase for them, filling it up with water and arranging the petals like an old pro. She emptied the chips into a serving bowl, unscrewing the salsa jar and setting both on the table.
“Where’s the baby?” I asked, eager to meet my little nephew.
“He’s sleeping,” Gina said apologetically.
“Isn’t it a little early?” I asked.
Gina and Porter exchanged a knowing glance. “You take naps whenever you can get them.”
“He doesn’t sleep through the night yet,” Porter said, grabbing himself a bottled water from the fridge.
