Page 29 of The Way We Swing Back

We stared each other down, both breathing hard, the music pounding through the walls. Gavin and Jake stood frozen and wide-eyed.

I tore my gaze away, shoving open the front door. Cold air slapped me across the face, sobering me enough for the shame to crawl in.

We walked in silence down the sidewalk—me weaving slightly, Zach stone-faced, the younger two trailing behind like guilty puppies.

When we reached the car, Zach broke the silence. “No one tells Mom or Dad,” he said. “No one.”

“Obviously,” I muttered.

“And you’re not watching Gavin alone for a while.”

That hit harder than anything he’d ever said.

“Okay,” I said, even though he’d yanked out a piece of me.

Zach huffed, angry but scared underneath. “You can be such an idiot.”

“Yeah,” I said, staring out my window. “I know.”

The car ride went in silence until we parked at my house. I opened the door, the weight of the night refusing to leave. I turned toward Zach. He wasn’t even making eye contact with me.

“Zach,” I whispered.

“What?” he said, staring the other way.

“Can you step out of the car for a second?”

“Whatever, Easton.” But he did.

I walked around the car, facing him as he had his back to his door. “You’re right.”

He finally looked at me, his face still pissed. “I’m what?”

“You’re right.”

“Not sure I’ve ever heard you say that.”

I looked away. “Must be the alcohol. But I never should’ve let them spend another second in that house. I acted sorry for myself, got drunk, and acted dumb. I’ll... I’ll try to be better.” I shoved my hands in my jeans, picking at the lint as I waited for a response.

“Next time I tell Mom,” he said.

“Deal,” I said. “Won’t happen again.”

“Better not, dude,” he said. “Tell them to fuck off next time; they’re idiots for even showing up.”

“Got it,” I said.

Zach shook his head at me as he got back in the car. Gavin stared at me out the back window, his forehead pressed against the glass.

Dumbass.

I walked inside, the guilt shoving aside the alcohol. I flicked off my shoes, my left one hitting the wall before clanking to the floor. The house’s warmth chased away the chill on my nose.

I didn’t bother to turn on a light until I got to my room. I reached for the bag under my bed, the smoothness of the bottle rubbing my calluses as I took my last drink of the night.

The sliding glove still sat on my nightstand, a reminder of the decisions I’d made tonight. I’d failed my promise to Tanner. I needed to make better decisions.

But I knew I couldn’t.