I only needed to take one step back, and I was in the shadows. I didn’t wait to see Cross’ reaction. Not wanting to hash it out with the guys, I headed back through the walking paths. I knew how to criss and cross until I came out to the road a couple miles north of where Cross lived.

That firefly had come back. I felt its presence enveloping me like a warm blanket. There was no one else but me out here, and I tipped my head back, drinking in the night. The silence was peaceful. I used to yearn for it when my mother wasn’t sick, when Dad was drinking. I hated Channing for leaving, but he’d been the smart one. I was the only one who heard her yelling, him yelling. I had to wait until something shattered, then there would be thumps, thuds, things crashing to the floor.

The cries came next, but not from me.

I was always either under my covers, silent tears rolling down my face, or slipping out the window. I took lessons from Channing early on. If he could leave, so could I. I was six when I’d first walked across town by myself to Cross’ house.

But over time those sounds had faded at our house, and different sounds took over.

The beeping of whatever medical device she had in her room. The sound of her vomiting, moaning, groaning, weeping. And the sound of his cursing, the crinkle of the brown bags he’d use to carry booze into the house.

When she got sick, they stopped fighting. She suffered in her bedroom, and he drank in the basement.

But even those sounds eventually went away.

She went into the hospital…and there was nothing.

Absolute silence.

Dad didn’t even stay in the basement anymore.

Channing was gone, and so was he. He went to his bar, or his friends’ house. If I wasn’t at the hospital with Mom, I was home alone. That was a silence I hated until it became a part of me.

I blended with it.

From time to time I felt that same silence again—the firefly type. It rose up in me, wrapping around me.

It kept me company for about a mile until a truck pulled up next to me.

I heard it coming, the engine rumbling and the light growing like a slow-glowing candle. It chased away the firefly, and as the window rolled down, I felt my insides stop bleeding too.

Cross slowed the truck to my pace, but he didn’t say anything.

I didn’t either.

I wanted to keep walking, and he let me for a little while—until my insides had completely dried up. It was time to rejoin the world, and with a small exhale, I reached for the door handle.

Cross nudged on the brakes and waited as I got inside. Like so many other nights, not a word was spoken. He lifted his foot from the brake, and we drove the rest of the way into town to pull up outside his house.

No lights were on, and the house was quiet as we walked in. We proceeded as we always did.

He went to the kitchen where he would grab two bottles of water for us. I went up the stairs and to his bedroom, going into his bathroom. Nudging the door closed, I got ready for bed, using the toothbrush I kept here.

When I was done, I opened the door.

He was sitting on the bed, a pair of boxer shorts and sleeping shirt folded up next to him. A bottle of water lay next to them, and as I stepped out into his bedroom, he stood, and we switched places.

The bathroom door closed behind him.

I dressed in the clothes he’d left out, and I had the closet door open when he returned. I could smell his toothpaste as he stepped past me to the bed.

“You want the bed?” he asked.

He knew better.

My eyes met his for a second, and then I reached over to his desk, where he’d placed three blankets and two pillows. I spread two blankets in the closet, then scooted down. One pillow went under my head, the other I hugged to my chest. I pulled the other blanket over me, but I knew I’d probably kick it off.

I curled into a ball, lying on my side.

My phone was off. I knew Cross would wake us up.

He stood there, watching me for a moment.

I thought he’d say something, but he didn’t. He just stared at me, and a different feeling took root. An awareness. It was low in my belly, beginning to trickle up, almost tickling my insides.

All the while, Cross never looked away until slowly, he reached up and pulled his shirt off. His muscles rippled from the movement. For a second I saw every single one of his muscles outlined, all the way to the V dipping under his jeans. His eyes stayed on me as his hands dropped to his pants. He unbuckled them, letting them drop, and he kicked them to the side.

He’d taken his socks and shoes off in the bathroom, and now he stood in his boxer briefs. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t seen before, but there was a different feel to the room that night.

The tickle was still there, but it had softened. It almost felt like a tingle now.

I couldn’t endure it any more, whatever it was, so I closed my eyes.

The lights went out. Cross turned his sleeping fan to the lowest setting, and without opening my eyes—for a reason even I didn’t understand—I reached out and closed his closet door.

I barricaded myself in, and then I slept.

I woke early.

Cross was in the bathroom, but I didn’t have any clothes for school. I scribbled him a note, then took his keys and, after a quick stop in the family bathroom, I drove to my place. I showered and changed there, but hurried right back out the door. Channing’s bedroom door was closed as I passed. I didn’t want Cross to wait or risk a run-in with my brother. After picking up coffee, I went back to his place.

He was sitting on his porch, and after I parked, I slid into the passenger seat. He got behind the wheel. I indicated the coffee for him in the console. He grunted his thanks, but that was it. Neither of us was up for morning chatter. I saw the bags under his eyes. We’d only gotten a few hours of sleep.

He’d just shifted into drive when the front door opened. Taz walked out, her backpack over one shoulder and her own mug of coffee in hand. Her eyes widened as she saw us, but Cross was already pushing the accelerator.

Cursing, he hit the brakes, then cast a cursory look at me.

“If you’re pausing on giving her a ride because of me, don’t. I’m okay with her. You know that.”

He didn’t respond, but I didn’t expect him to.

After waiting another beat, Taz took a breath, rolled her shoulders back, and walked over. She looked like a three year old, her mind made up to ask for something she already knew her parents would say no to, but she was coming anyway.

Cross rolled his window down. “You want a ride this morning?”

She stopped right outside my door. “Sunday was supposed to give me a ride this morning.” She looked to me, then back to her brother. “I’m guessing she’s not coming? She never texted me back.”

She gave us both meaningful looks.

Cross relaxed into his seat. His arm hung loose over the steering wheel. “Look, if she doesn’t show, that’s between you and her. Don’t get mad at us because you have shit taste in friends. You know she’s a shitty person. Don’t know why you’re wasting your time.”

She rolled her eyes, adjusting her backpack over her shoulder. She switched her coffee to the other hand. “Yeah, yeah. I know, but not all of us have an entire crew at our disposal.”

“You need a ride or what?”

Her eyes grew a little frosty, matching her tone. She ignored her brother. “Pretty sure one of your friends has a certain taste for her too. And like I said, some of us are a bit limited in the friendship category.”

Cross chuckled. “My point still stands. Zellman has no taste in women. He’d bang a door if it had a hole his prick wouldn’t get a sliver from. You want a ride or not?”

She groaned, but nodded. “I can’t take Mom’s car. She took it this morning.” She nodded to me, opening my door. “Slide over, B.”

I did.

Then we were off, windows down.

We didn’t even try at conversation. It was pointless. We all knew how Cross drove. He took the back roads around town, going as fast as he could. The radio was turned on once we hit the main street, Kansas blaring from the speakers.