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“Neither.” His voice softens and he comes to stand in front of me. He kneels, putting his hands on the bed. His eyes are like a cat’s, green and golden. He’s a looker, my big brother, that’s for sure. “Dammit, Evie. I want what’s best for you.”
“Really?” I lift my chin. “Getting out of the house is good for me. Meeting new people is good for me.”
“Your homeless friends.” His nose wrinkles, and he gets up, his face closing off again. “They’re the reason you had the accident in the first place. Why can’t you let this childish obsession go? Why not let the agencies and organizations do their thing? Why do you feel the need to meddle in their affairs?”
“Childish obsession?” I sit up. “Are you serious? Besides, they aren’t the reason an idiot run me over with his bike.”
“You were out there looking for trouble.”
“I was out for a jog.” I throw my hands up in the air. “Jesus, Joey. What’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me?” He grimaces. “I don’t get into trouble and bring grief to my parents. I don’t break up with a nice guy for no reason. I don’t go—”
“Is this about Blake?”
“No, this is about thinking of others, not just yourself.”
“I think of others! Is this a joke?”
“Dammit, Evie!” His jaw clenches. “You just won’t listen. You make us all worry. That’s selfish. And what about your future? What about college? What about thinking ahead?”
My mouth opens and closes. In this family, no matter what I do or say, it’s always turned on me.
“Going to meet with the guys,” Joel says and turns to go. “Do me a favor and stay out of trouble, okay?”
He leaves before I find my voice. What use is answering anyway? I’m just never right, no matter what I do.
And worse still, a tiny doubt clouds my mind, a treacherous voice saying, what if he’s right? Not for breaking up with Blake, but about roaming the streets, thinking I can make a difference on my own?
I lean back on the pillows and close my eyes, feeling tired and defeated. Because, in the end, I have nothing to show for my efforts—no victories, no people saved, no sign I did something worthwhile. Just a leg that smarts in heavy weather, an ugly limp and whole lot of heartache.
***
Thankfully, the bus stop isn’t far from the sports store. I step off the bus and keep my gaze down. To my embarrassment, I have to use the walking stick I had after the surgery on my leg. It’s a purple and white stick, decorated with flowers like a starburst. For a walking aid, it’s quite pretty.
Oh sure, how incredibly sexy, Ev.
Yeah, as if anyone is watching. It’s morning time, and the tattoo shop is still closed. I hurry past it, my stick tapping on the sidewalk.
Someone steps out of a side street, blocking my way, and I jerk back, my stick screeching on the sidewalk. The guy grins at me and for a moment I just stare at him, stunned.
Blake.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt, and I hate how my voice shakes. I lift my chin. Don’t know why Blake scares me so much. He’s never hit me or anything, but he’s been giving me the heebie-jeebies lately.
He takes a step closer and I fight not to back away. Dressed in dark jeans and a leather jacket, his dark hair styled back, he smirks at me.
“What do you want, Blake?”
“I wanted to talk.” He waves a hand airily. “Since you won’t answer my phone calls, I thought to come in person.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
“Joel told me you work at this store nearby.” He clucks his tongue. “You know you could do much better with your life, Evie.”
“My life is fine, thank you, and it’s none of your concern.”
He takes another step toward me, and I thrust my hand forward to keep him back. He snorts. “Really, Evie? That how you treat your boyfriend?”
