“Not the same. Clara and Liam are fighting because you went someplace you weren’t supposed to go again.”
I could lie to Elsie, but she’s smart enough to know the difference. Where I’m built for facts, her little brain reads people very well. “Mom and Dad tell me I should be like you. That I should listen. You aren’t listening anymore and now they’re sending you away. If I don’t listen, will they send me away?”
I shake my head. “I wanted to go away. It took me not listening for them to listen to me. Sometimes people don’t listen until bad things happen. They realize then they should have listened instead of talked. Sometimes people are too busy hearing what they want to hear, seeing what they want to see, and they don’t care what’s real, only what they think is real.”
Elsie shifts away from me. “You want to leave home? But you have another year before you have to leave. Why would you want to do that?”
Another piece of her hair falls and I beckon my youngest sister to sit on the step between my legs. She does and I begin the task of undoing the knot of hair I had put up this morning. “I wanted to fit in someplace, and I thought if I left, I would.”
“You fit in here.”
I brush her hair out with my fingers and then smooth it back up. “I didn’t think I did.”
“Sounds like you were the one not listening.”
The rubber band snaps her hair in place, but it’s the snap inside me that hurts. “What?”
Elsie glances at me from over her shoulder. “Like when I don’t fit in with the other girls, you tell me I have you, which means you have me. And if I have Zac and Paul and Joshua and Liam, then that means you do, too. It sounds to me like you aren’t listening.”
My body goes numb as my mind begins to disseminate the information. Is it possible... No, I mean Clara has always treated me like... But there are eleven people in my family and she’s one. And Liam—he’s willing to give up his dreams of independence because he’s concerned for me.
“If you’re sad because you’re in trouble,” Elsie says, “then don’t be. I get in trouble all the time, and sometimes after I cry, those are the times Mommy hugs me the hardest and you look like you need a hard hug.”
And she does it. Elsie hugs me hard, throwing her entire being, soul and all, into loving me. I hug her back and try to fight the lump hardening in my throat.
“It’s like you said when Daddy forgot to pick me up at ballet. Sometimes these bad things happen to prove you’re strong enough to be a Miller.”
My eyes shut with the wetness forming there. I did tell Elsie that. She was sad. I was sad for her and I made being forgotten in the pickup rotation a badge of honor, and it’s not until this moment that I realize how right she is. This family is messed up, but it’s still my family.
Just like the club is Razor’s family. Razor loves me so much that he’s willing to go to any length to protect me...even involving his family.
A sense of urgency rushes through me. I need to find Razor. I need to talk with him and tell him I understand his drive to inform the club, his family, but there has to be a way that we can stay together without anyone getting hurt.
“I love you, Elsie.” I kiss her temple, and when she eases back, I touch the end of her nose. “And I’m glad Mom and Dad didn’t stop at eight.”
She grins widely to show two adult teeth and a bunch of crooked baby teeth. “Me, too.”
“Let’s go get some cookies.” I offer my hand, she accepts, and the two of us walk in. Elsie continues to chatter as we pass the living room, and when she settles into the seat at the kitchen, eats her cookie and drinks her milk.
Razor loves me and he’s going to freak when he sees the post. When Elsie hops down from her seat and races off to play with Zac, I stare at Liam’s car keys on the island.
I’m already in trouble. Not sure I can go much deeper. Especially when my parents discover the post and how I ran off with Razor earlier today. One more outing won’t matter.
Before I lose my courage, I snatch Liam’s keys and text Razor: Meet me at the bridge. We need to talk.
RAZOR
WAITING.
It’s never been my strong suit and, until Breanna, neither had trusting.
Right now, I’m doing both.
Waiting and trusting.
I’d rather get shot and take a spill on my bike with no jacket and have my skin scraped off by the blacktop than wait for the board to decide how they’re going to handle Breanna. Unfortunately, my single option is to sit here in the beat-up chair near the pool tables.
Oz sinks the eight ball in the corner pocket, then tosses the stick onto the table. It rolls until it hits the other side of the green felt. He obviously isn’t into this waiting shit, either. “You should have come to me.”
I tip the chair until the back of my seat smacks the wall behind me so I can rap my head against it. I came clean over an hour ago and I’m already sick of hearing how everyone has faced a demon similar to mine. Truth is—what I hate is how they’re right.
Oz eyes me like he’s pissed. “I handed my cut to Eli thinking I couldn’t make it in this club.”
My seat falls forward with a crack. “You serious?”
“Dead.” He doesn’t once blink as he holds my gaze. My best friend isn’t lying.
Chevy barrels through the door to the clubhouse. “Try answering your damn phone!”