Page 4 of The Dearly Departed

“I’m gonna kill him,” Shawn said, stabbing his fingers through his dark blond hair and pulling. “They’re gonna call the cops. They’re gonna send us back. I can’t go back there, Bram. Oh fuck, I’m gonna kill that fucking asshole. Fuck!”

“Will you just relax?” I muttered, stamping out my cigarette beneath the heel of my beat-up work boot.

“Relax?! How the hell am I supposed to relax?! I can’t go back there, and he’s gonna be the reason why we have to!”

I slid my unamused gaze toward him to find his eyes rounded with terror. Fuck, could I blame him? At the foster home we’d just left, the guy had a thing for sneaking into Shawn’s bed at night. He said Shawn looked enough like a little girl with his long hair to satisfy him, but it didn’t seem to help matters much when Shawn had me chop it off a couple of days ago.

We’d only been there for two weeks before we made our escape.

That was the second home this year, and it was only April.

It was getting harder to find new homes to be placed in, especially ones that would take the three of us—and we were a package deal. It didn’t matter that Shawn wasn’t blood-related. He was just as much my brother as that little asshole across the street.

I had lost enough. I wasn’t losing either of them too.

“I’ll be right back,” I grumbled. “Stay here.”

“Oh God,” I could hear Shawn groan as I slipped away from the cover of the trees and sauntered across the street with my hands tucked deep in my pockets.

The shop owner had Ike by the collar of his jacket—some ugly-ass windbreaker Ike had swiped from the house—and he was picking up the phone from behind the counter. I hurried faster and pushed the door open, and soon after the little bell above announced my arrival with a happy little jingle, I grabbed Isaac’s arm and yanked him toward me out of the shop owner’s grasp.

“Where the hell have you been?” I hissed, pulling him within inches of my face. “Mom is going crazy, looking all over for you.”

Ike was slow to pick up the ruse I was laying down. He narrowed his eyes and raised a brow in confusion, but at least he was smart enough to keep his dumb mouth shut.

“Is this kid your brother?” the owner asked, cautiously lowering the phone back onto the countertop.

“Yeah, sorry,” I said. “Our mom is furious.”

He peered at me from beneath bushy eyebrows, his eyes skeptical. “Weren’t you in here earlier?”

Without skipping a beat, I nodded. “Our mom sent us to grab a couple of things before school, but I realized she never gave us any money. So, I ran back home, thinking he was behind me.”

Ike started to laugh, and I gave him a quick jerk to snap him out of it.

“You think this is funny?” I barked at him. “Mom was pissed that I left you alone, you stupid jerk.”

The shop owner sighed and removed his hand from the cordless phone. He waved a hand toward the door. “Go. Get yourselves back home. I don’t wanna see him back in here though, you understand? Kid’s a thief. Tried to run away with some beer.”

I nodded like a good boy. “No, sir. He’s not ever coming back here, I swear.”

Then I headed toward the door, dragging my little brother behind me. He protested and whined as we left the shop and headed across the street, but I continued to pull him along, not giving a single crap that I was moving faster than his feet could carry him. He tripped and cursed and tripped some more until I shoved him between the trees, knocking him into Shawn.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” I hissed angrily, looking down my nose at his smug face.

“I wanted something to drink,” he said with a casual shrug.

“Beer? You hate beer, you little shit!”

“No, I don’t.”

Shawn rounded to stand in front of Ike and raised his fist. “I should just fucking kill you now.”

I shot my hand out and held it against his chest, stopping him from getting any closer. “Back up.”

“I’m not going back there!” he cried, his eyes wild and crazed.

“Nobody is going back,” I promised, knowing damn well it was an empty one. “Now, come on. Let’s grab our shit and get moving.”