Somebody Else’s Sky: Something in the Way, 2

by Jessica Hawkins

  Like most mornings, I was up before Tiffany. By the time I’d showered, changed into a t-shirt and jeans, and downed half a pot of coffee, neither of the girls had gotten up. I was pulling eggs and bacon from the refrigerator when Lake shuffled out of the guest bedroom. Good thing for my sanity, she’d put a sweatshirt on. It didn’t cover as much as it should, but at least I couldn’t see her tits anymore. Those soft hills that peaked into hard little pebbles. They had to be close to a C cup, perky, perfect—and not mine to ogle or touch.

  Lake rubbed her red eyes. I felt like a real piece of shit that there was even a chance she’d cried herself to sleep. “Sit,” I said. “I’m making you breakfast.”

  She’d stopped in the middle of the living room, by the front door, as if she might make a break for it. “I’m not hungry.”

  I ignored her. “We don’t have any fancy guest plates, but you can use my mug. It was a gift from Gary.” I showed her my coffee cup, a man in black-and-white prison scrubs asking a zebra what it’s in for. She didn’t laugh. I filled it with orange juice and set it in front of a stool at the breakfast bar.

  She blinked her puffy eyelids. Had she even gone to the bathroom yet? Or just stumbled out and into my orbit? I couldn’t tell what she was thinking—probably something about Tiffany and me. If she’d had sex with Corbin last night, that’s damn well what I’d be thinking about.

  “Take me back to the hotel.”

  “What?”

  “Take me back to Corbin.”

  It made my stomach churn the same way it had when she’d said it last night. I knew in my gut she’d left because of him. He’d gotten her a hotel room for fuck’s sake. How close had they come to sleeping together? Had he pushed her? Touched her? What if I hadn’t been here, and Tiffany had refused to pick her up? That didn’t matter, because I was here, and based on the sickness developing in my gut at the thought of her being stranded, I always would be.

  “What kind of eggs do you like?” I asked to distract myself.

  “How do you normally make them?” Tentatively, she took a seat. “What do you drink in the mornings?”

  “Scrambled, but I’ll eat them any way. Sometimes I’ll make an omelet.”

  “With what?”

  I continued about my routine, reminding myself when her gaze followed me around that I wasn’t nearly as interesting as she seemed to think. “Whatever’s around. Spinach, mushrooms, peppers. You sure you aren’t hungry?”

  “Yes. What do you drink?” she asked again.

  “Coffee.”

  “I want some.”

  I gave her a look. “You don’t drink coffee.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just do.” No seventeen year olds I knew drank coffee. Not that I really knew any. I jutted my chin at the mug. “How about the orange juice?”

  She took a long look at it, her expression contorting with disgust.

  “What?” I asked.

  “It’s what I drank last night.”

  “Orange juice? At prom?”

  “With rum.”

  She picked it up anyway and took a sip. I wasn’t dumb enough to think there wasn’t alcohol at prom, but it hadn’t occurred to me she might’ve been drunk last night. I hadn’t smelled it on her. The eggs sizzled on the pan behind me, but I couldn’t get myself to move. “How much did you drink?”

  She didn’t look at me. “By the time you picked me up, I was fine.”

  “You have to be careful.”

  “I was.” She raised her eyes to me. “You know I was.”

  I turned away. I hated the idea of it, her, drinking in a hotel room with men. No, I couldn’t fucking stand the idea of it. Men were assholes to begin with, but they could be dangerous when they drank. Not that Corbin or any of those guys were men—they were boys, and that was worse. Drunk boys lost control. They made bad decisions. I ran a hand through my hair and pulled—fuck if I hadn’t already been on this carousel all night before she’d called. I’d been in bed, staring at the ceiling long after Tiffany had gone to sleep, running through all the awful scenarios that could go down at prom.

  I pulled the pan off the burner just as I heard a noise that sounded like her stomach grumbling. She twisted back and forth on the stool, looking not a day over her age. I scraped eggs onto a plate and set them in front of her. “Here.”

  “I said I’m not—”

  “Bacon’ll be done in a minute.”

  “But it’s yours.”

  I smiled a little. “They’re overcooked anyway.”

  “Oh.” She watched me, wide-eyed, as she ate a forkful. Finally, she smiled, too.

  The bedroom door opened, and Tiffany came out in just a t-shirt. My t-shirt.

  Lake’s eyes traveled over her sister, head to toe.

  “What’s so funny?” Tiff asked.

  I realized I was still smiling, so I stopped. “Nothing.”

  She gave me a look as if I were in trouble, then went straight for the coffee. “How was last night?” she asked over her shoulder. “Did Corbin bring you?”

  “Manning picked me up from the hotel,” Lake said.

  I stared at the back of Tiffany’s head as she poured herself a mug, then moved by me to get her fat-free creamer from the fridge.

  “She asked for you,” I said, sensing her irritation. “But I didn’t want to wake you. I was already up.”

  “What about Corbin?” Tiffany asked. “Still sleeping?”

  “Corbin?” Lake asked.

  “He’s here, right?”

  Like fuck I’d let that little shit into my home so he could take advantage of Lake. “No,” I answered.

  Tiffany laughed, coming around the counter to hug a blushing Lake. “You didn’t get laid on prom night? I thought that’s why you came here. For privacy.”

  I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t let that image into my head. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eye sockets, forcing blackness. “Jesus Christ.”

  “What?” she asked, looking at me over Lake’s shoulder. “She’s seventeen, not ten. She can get laid on prom night if she wants. Lord knows I did, and if Corbin had been my date, I’d do it again. He’s got that hot surfer bod. Better get to him before his freshman beer gut kicks in.”

  The room went silent except for the sizzle of bacon. Tiffany was angling to get under someone’s skin, but I wasn’t sure if it was mine or Lake’s. Lake looked at her lap. “I wasn’t—I’m not ready.”

  “Well, you’re going to college soon. How much longer—”

  “Lay off,” I said. “She’s a f—she’s just a kid.”

  “I’m not a kid,” Lake said.

  I wanted to shake her every time she denied it. She needed to be young and carefree as long as possible. If not for herself, then for me.

  Lake stood up, dropping her fork on the plate. “Just because I’m not a slut like some people doesn’t mean I’m a child.”

  “No, you’re not a slut at all, are you? You probably had the chance to lose your virginity to your crush and you couldn’t even do that. You’re a prude.”

  Lake’s face went white, and maybe mine did, too. Did Lake have a crush on Corbin?

  “Probably saving yourself for the one,” Tiffany muttered. “Like a baby.”

  “What’s with you?” I asked, my temper rising. “Why are you being so vicious?”

  She shook her head at me. “What do you care? And why don’t you ever make me breakfast?”

  “I would, if you ate breakfast.” I held up the pan. “Here. Want this?”

  She made a face. “No.”

  “Then what’s your problem?”

  “Nothing.” She came back to me and rose onto the balls of her feet. “I’m sorry. You know how I am in the mornings. Kiss?” When I just stared at her, she pouted. “Please?”

  I leaned in and gave her what she wanted. I had no choice. When I pulled back, Lake had left the room. I didn’t blame her. Just seeing Corbin peck her on the mouth last night had put me on edge. Over the
edge. I’d wanted to wring his neck.

  “Why do you say stuff like that to her?” I asked, scraping eggs onto a plate.

  “You know why.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “She needs to hear it, Manning.” She took a sip of her coffee. “She has a crush on you.”

  Fuck. I turned my back and opened the fridge, hiding my face. Why was she bringing this up? “She does not.”

  “No? What about that night?”

  I froze, not even daring to take a breath, racking my brain for a night, any night, she could be talking about that wasn’t that one. Dark highway, wind-in-her-hair, Summer Triangle on a black lake. “What are you talking about?”

  “She forced her way into your truck the night you were supposedly committing robbery. What, you thought I didn’t know?”

  Her tone told me she knew I didn’t. This was the first I’d heard of it. Lake had sworn to me she wouldn’t tell anyone the truth about that night, but could I really blame her if she had? It’d all gone bad so fast, and she’d had no one to confide in. Slowly, I shut the door. “Nothing happened.”

  “Obviously—she doesn’t have the guts. And yet you were stupid enough to get in a car alone with her again. Why? Do you have a crush on her, too?”

  I turned quickly. I was the crush Tiffany’d been talking about just now. The one Lake hadn’t lost her virginity to. Not Corbin. “Do I have a crush on Lake?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level. “What’s gotten into you? She’s your sister.”

  Lake returned to the living room dressed in shorts with her bag slung over her shoulder. “I’m going.”

  “You didn’t finish your breakfast,” I said.

  “I told you I wasn’t hungry.” She avoided our eyes as she walked to the front door. “Dad’ll be here any minute.”

  “We could’ve taken you home,” I said.

  Lake didn’t even glance back as she walked out, closing the door gently behind her.

  I turned back to Tiffany, who was watching the door. “Did she have fun?” she asked.

  I dumped the contents of Lake’s dish onto mine. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

  Absentmindedly, she stirred more creamer into her coffee. “Did she?”

  “She said she had a great time.”

  “Then why did she need to be picked up? Did something happen?”

  I thought back to when I’d pulled up to the hotel, to Corbin and Lake standing in the lobby, smiling, kissing. I should’ve been grateful she hadn’t slept with him, but I didn’t like that Corbin had even tried. He probably hadn’t been the first, and he definitely wouldn’t be the last.

  “I don’t know,” I said, forking some eggs into my mouth. It was partially true. Lake hadn’t told me outright why she’d asked to be picked up. “She’s a teenage girl.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t because of Corbin. He’s too sweet.”

  Sweet. Fuck sweet. He was a teenage boy first. “How do you know?” I chewed. “Sometimes it’s those guys you have to look out for.”

  “Because we’ve known his family a while. He and his brothers are perfect gentlemen.”

  I blinked a few times, unsure of where to start with that. Why did everyone keep calling him a gentleman?

  “He used to like me,” she continued.

  “You mentioned.”

  She picked a piece of bacon off my plate. “Maybe he still does, and that’s why he took Lake to prom.”

  There was no way Corbin flew all the way in from New York to make Tiffany jealous, but I wasn’t about to argue. I was still wrapping my head around the fact that Tiffany knew about my night with Lake. How much had Lake told her?

  “They’re a good match, though, aren’t they?” she asked, sliding onto Lake’s stool. “Corbin and Lake. He’s good-looking, smart, rich, and from a good family. Perfect guy for a perfect girl.”

  During prom photos, Corbin had put his arms around Lake and made her laugh like it was nothing. Like he deserved her. Even her dad approved of him. As if I’d needed the reminder that I was neither deserving, nor approved of. My stomach had churned watching his hands on her, his possessive grip on her shoulders.

  “Nobody’s perfect,” I said.

  “Except Lake.”

  I couldn’t really argue that. Lake wasn’t without her flaws, but I couldn’t name a single one, and I doubted they’d be enough to keep any man away. I shifted gears. I could tell by Tiffany’s sharp tone, agreeing with her would be the death of me. “Some people might say you’re perfect,” I pointed out.

  She bit off a piece of bacon, narrowing her eyes at me. “Some people?”

  “You’re gorgeous. Clever. Funny. Hard-working.” I handed her a paper towel when she spilled some coffee on her top. “You have everything going for you.”

  She patted the stain, glancing up at me. “Plus, I have you.”

  I nodded a little. “Perfect boyfriend, eh?” I was far from a perfect boyfriend. I wasn’t even sure I was a good one, but sometimes, like now, she made me feel like I was, and it made me want to try harder.

  Tiffany smiled. “Do you ever think about the future?”

  I glanced out at the patio, at my pack of cigarettes. It made me anxious when I couldn’t be sure if Tiffany was being genuine or angling for something. Instead, I picked up Lake’s orange juice and took a sip. “What future?”

  “Ours. We’ve been together a while now.”

  “Most of our relationship developed in a small room while guards watched.” I wasn’t joking, but Tiffany laughed.

  “I’m just saying. We should start thinking about the next step. I mean, I’ve already thought about it—haven’t you?”

  I hadn’t really until Gary had brought it up a couple months ago. I’d assumed Tiffany would want to talk about all this at some point, just not so soon. “Aren’t you too young to start thinking about that?”

  “You’re not. And a few girls from my class got married last year.”

  “What about your dad?” All the times I’d been to his house, and Charles still gave me the cold shoulder. He didn’t like me dating Tiffany; he might blow a gasket if he knew we were talking about getting serious. “He’d never go for that.”

  “He might. Maybe it’d get him to back off a little.”

  I piled the dishes and pans in the sink. “Or you and I getting married would just send him over the edge.”

  “Maybe,” she said. She took her coffee into the bedroom and said, “Or maybe he’ll finally relax a little knowing I’m taken care of.”

  Taken care of—by me? I barely made enough to put a roof over my own head. With my juice, I went into the living room and shifted the blinds aside to look out the window. Lake sat on the curb of the parking lot, her knees bent up to her chin. Still, at seventeen, her legs were too long for her body. And still, she was perfect. Tiffany was right—Lake had a crush on me, but that would pass. I couldn’t take care of her. I brought nothing to the table for a girl who was on her way up.

  Who was I to think I deserved perfection? That I even deserved perfection’s older sister? If Tiffany was talking about the next step, then she was offering me everything a person could want out of life—to love and be loved. A home, a family, and a life I didn’t think I deserved or would ever get.

  She did better with me around. She’d gotten her shit semi-together. If I walked away now, she might get off track again and continue to put off school. I’d have to find a new place with no money, no credit, and no car. Living by the beach wasn’t an option, it was too expensive, but I couldn’t leave county lines, so what did that mean? Roommates?

  I waited there until Charles pulled up to take Lake home. Once they were gone, I found Tiffany in the ensuite, taking a shower. Leaning my ass on the bathroom counter, I spoke over the sound of the showerhead. “I’m not even sure I want to get married. To anyone.”

  The only sound for a few seconds was water beating against the tub floor. “Well, if not, that’s probably something I should know
. It’s something I want.”

  “Is it, or is it just what you think you should want?”

  “This isn’t the first time I’ve thought about this,” she said. “Is it so hard to believe I want to find a good man? To take care of him, and let him take care of me? When it happens doesn’t matter, does it?” She opened the shower curtain and stuck just her head out for a kiss. Automatically, I gave it to her. “Do you know what it’d mean to me to call you my husband? Can’t you just picture it—everyone in our lives watching me marry the most handsome, wonderful man I’ve ever known?”

  Stripped down and soaking wet, Tiffany looked up at me. It was the second time she’d said she felt taken care of, and not only that, but she thought I was a good man. A wonderful man. I hadn’t realized how much it would affect me to hear her say that. A strange feeling rose in my chest. “You really feel taken care of?” I asked.

  “Of course.”

  “By me?”

  She laughed. “I know our little place isn’t much, and my dad still helps with the rent, but it’s the first thing that’s ever felt like . . . mine. And I wouldn’t have it without you.”

  When was the last time I’d done anything good or right for anyone? It had to have been Madison, those nights I’d taken her to the front lawn to distract her from our parents’ blow-out fights. Even when my aunt took me in at fifteen, I couldn’t be the support system she’d needed after losing her niece, and I’d always felt bad about that. But here I was, adding to Tiffany’s life instead of detracting.

  “Besides,” Tiffany said before closing the curtain, “money isn’t the only way to take care of a person.”

  I knew that, but I hadn’t thought she would. The night of Madison’s death, I’d learned valuable lessons about the importance of family. Not only had I lost my sister, the person I’d loved most in the world, but I’d been betrayed by my parents, too. I might’ve expected it from my dad, but when the officers had asked my mom if I was the one who’d hurt my sister and she’d nodded, I knew I’d never get over that. A good family shouldn’t be taken for granted, and I knew that because I didn’t have one.

  Except maybe I did.

  17