Three

I drove Olivia and myself home to the apartment we shared in a small sliver of South Nashville that was sandwiched between the suburb of Antioch and the city of Brentwood. The locals called our little piece of the map "Brentioch," the metaphorical tracks that separated the white collars from the blue.

"Do you have to work tomorrow?" I asked Olivia as I pulled into a parking space.

She nodded. "Lunch to close."

We got out, and I clicked the lock button on the key fob. "At least you don't have to open."

She rubbed her head. "It's a good thing. I may be hurting in the morning."

"Lightweight," I teased as we started up the steps to the second floor.

"You're one to talk."

When we neared our apartment, I stopped when I saw a pair of legs wearing jeans and men's Adidas sneakers poking out from behind the wall that formed an alcove around our door. I stuck my arm out in front of Olivia to stop her. She blinked and looked down at the legs.

"Who is that?" she whispered.

With wide eyes, I shrugged my shoulders. I inched past her and tiptoed through the breezeway. When I got close enough to see around the corner, I immediately recognized the messy mop of brown hair that was reclined against our door. I exhaled.

"It's my brother." I kicked his shoe. "Ethan, wake up."

Ethan jolted from his sleep, looking up with alarm. "Hey, Lucy. Thank God you're finally home."

I looked at my watch. It was after ten. "What are you doing here?"

"Came down to see a chick I met online."

"I'm guessing it didn't go well," Olivia said.

He shook his head. "She 'forgot' to tell me she was on house arrest." He used air quotes for effect.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "What?"

"Can I crash on your couch tonight?" he asked through a yawn. "I don't want to drive back to Riverbend this late."

"Why didn't you call me?" I reached over him to put my key in the lock.

"Something's wrong with my phone again," he said, rolling to his knees to get up.

I stepped over him. "Did you pay the bill?"

He groaned. "You sound just like Dad and the phone company."

I flipped on the light, and they followed me into the apartment. I hung my keys on the hook by the door and carried my purse to my bedroom. Ethan flopped down on the sectional sofa with a groan.

"I'm going to bed, Lucy," Olivia called as I took off my shoes.

I put my sandals in the closet and walked back to the living room, catching Olivia at her door. "Thanks again for going with me tonight."

She winked at me. "Anytime."

When she was gone, I looked at my kid brother. Ethan was wearing a wrinkled chocolate-brown polo shirt tucked in (only in the front), a decent pair of dark jeans, and (shockingly) a belt. His face was soft and sleepy as he nestled into the corner of the sofa.

I wondered if his motives for showing up on my doorstep were completely centered around his failed date, or if he'd gotten lonely at our parents' house. His light brown eyes sparkled just like Mom's when he smiled up at me.

The magic vanished in an instant as he put his sneakers up on my coffee table. I swatted his legs. "Have some manners, Ethan." Wincing with pain, I sat down beside him.

His feet landed with a heavy thud on the floor, and he slouched against the back, folding his hands on his flat stomach. "Why are you moving like an old lady?"

"I was in a car wreck yesterday. I'm pretty stiff and sore."

"What the hell, Lucy? Why didn't you call me?"

I laughed. "Maybe I did. You don't have a phone."

"Did you call me?"

"No, of course not."

He frowned. "Why? I'm your brother."

"What would you have done? Besides, I wasn't hurt. I had the situation under control." I reached over and patted his head. "I do appreciate your concern."

"Where've you been all night? You never go out."

"That's not true," I said.

He lifted a doubtful eyebrow.

I ignored him. "Did you know Nashville has a roller derby team?"

"What's roller derby?"

My eyes narrowed. "Are you sure you went to college?"

"Pretty sure," he said, slipping off his shoes. "But those days were kinda fuzzy."

I leaned against his shoulder. "I feel like these days are kinda fuzzy too. Are you OK?"

He looked at me seriously. "I'm fine. I promise."

I studied his face for a moment before finally nodding. "Well, you're twenty-three. Not a frat boy anymore. Someday you're going to have to start acting like a grown-up."

He grinned and touched his finger to the tip of my nose. "Tomorrow. I'm going to start tomorrow. What's roller derby?"

"It's a women's sport—"

He cocked an eyebrow. "So it's boring."

"Quite the opposite, actually. Full-contact, on roller skates."

His head snapped back. "Really?"

"Yeah. A girl broke her nose tonight when she mowed down a group of fans by the track."

"Whoa!"

"I know. It was a lot of fun. You should go sometime. Maybe once your new girlfriend gets off parole."

He groaned and flopped against the back of the sofa again.

"Tell me about her."

He rolled his head to face me. "Her name's Daphne. She's twenty-two and studied nursing at MTSU. Beautiful girl. Blond hair, blue eyes, and…" His eyes bulged as he cupped two ginormous imaginary breasts in front of his chest.

I crossed my arms. "I can see where this story started to go wrong."

"We've been talking for a few weeks—"

"On the computer, because you don't pay your phone bill."

He nodded. "I told her I'd drive down this weekend if she wanted to hang out. She wanted to meet at her house in Murfreesboro. I assumed we would go somewhere."

"And you were wrong?"

He grimaced. "So very wrong." He covered his face with both hands. "She had an ankle bracelet and everything."

I dropped my head to stifle my giggles. "What did she do?"

"Too many DUIs or something, I think. I honestly didn't hang around long enough to find out."

I slapped his leg. "Good for you. See? You can make good decisions occasionally."

He groaned.

I got up and walked to the kitchen. "Are you hungry? Did you eat dinner?"

"I'm good. I got a burger from a drive-through on the way here." I returned with two bottles of water and handed one to him. "Thanks," he said as he unscrewed the lid.

"And what have we learned from all this?" I asked, tucking my leg underneath me as I sat back down.

He paused with the bottle halfway to his lips. "I have shitty taste in women?"

"Besides that."

"I need to stop meeting chicks on the internet?" he asked.

"It wouldn't hurt. You're a cute guy. You could meet girls in person—outside the house to ensure they're not on lockdown, but that's not what I was going to say either."

He shrugged. "I give up."

I pushed his shoulder, and he dribbled water down his chin. "Stop making decisions with Ethan Jr., and try getting to know someone before you drive two hours to pop up on their doorstep."

"His name is not Ethan Jr." He pointed to his crotch. "We call him the Kraken."

My face melted into a disgusted frown, and I covered my ears. "Eww."

He laughed. "That way, I can drop my pants and say, 'Release the Kraken!' Chicks dig that shit."

I furiously shook my head. "No, they don't."

He lifted his fist into the air and used a dramatic tone. "He rises from the depths!"

"Ethan, stop talking about your penis!"

Still chuckling, he dropped his hand. "You brought it up."

"And I'm sorry about that." I put the water bottle to my cheek to cool my hot and embarrassed face. "Different subject. Have you talked to Dad?"

He looked at me. "About the Kraken?"

I smacked him with a throw pillow.

"No. I haven't talked to Dad. When are they coming home?" he asked.

"You live there. You don't know?"

He pointed at his own face. "Do I look like a guy who knows things?"

I settled back against the couch. "They're supposed to be home next weekend."

"That's so long," he whined.

"It's two weeks. Stop being dramatic."

"I might starve by then, Lucy."

I laughed.

"He's going to want to see you when he gets back. Are you coming home?"

I hugged the throw pillow. "I think I used up all my fake smiles at the wedding. It's going to be a while before I can force another one onto my face."

He leaned his elbow on the armrest and cradled his head in his hand to look at me. "Is it just how soon it happened, or do you really hate her?"

I considered the question. "I don't hate her. I don't even know her. That's the problem. She's like the stranger in the white van who lured Dad away with casseroles."

Ethan chuckled. "She's nothing like Mom."

No truer words had ever been spoken. Katherine was, in a word, domestic. Our mother had been anything but. Dad had plucked Mom right off the beach in Virginia, where he'd found her dancing in a bikini to The Beach Boys. "It was love at first sight," he liked to tell us before she died. "I saw her and I just knew—someday she'd be mine."

Someday turned out to be that day, and a few weeks later, Mom found out she was pregnant with me. They got married in a courthouse ceremony without even telling her parents. Dad had worn his Navy uniform. Mom hadn't worn any shoes.

It was hard to believe she'd been gone almost a year. And harder to believe how much everything had changed.

"He still refuses to talk about her." Ethan's voice snapped me back to our conversation.

All Dad's stories had stopped when Mom died, and since he'd married Katherine, Dad dared not even bring Mom up in conversation. At all. Ever.

Logically, I knew it was too painful for him, and probably by focusing on the future rather than the past, he could more easily put one foot in front of the other each day. But man, it was hard for me and, obviously, Ethan to just pretend she never existed when Dad was around. Thank God we had each other.

"You can't put him off forever."

I sighed. "I know. I am trying."

He grimaced. "You kinda suck at it, Lucy."

I sank into my corner. "I know. That's why I'm staying away."

"Well, hurry up and get over it, OK?" He reached over and nudged my shoulder. "I kinda miss you."

"I miss you too, Butter."

He made a vomiting noise. "I hate it when you call me that."

I grabbed his sleeve and pulled him to me, cradling his head in my arms and kissing the top of his head over and over. "No, you don't, Baby Butter. You love it. You do!"

Laughing, he pushed me off him. "You're so weird."

I stood and brushed my hair out of my face. "You share my DNA, you know."

"Oh, I know."

I jerked my thumb toward my room. "I'll get your stuff."

"Need help?" he asked.

"No."

In my closet, on the bottom right of the nine-cube organizer shelf, was a fabric storage bin with Ethan's name stitched on the front. I retrieved it, then grabbed an extra sheet, blanket, and pillow off the shelf above my shoe rack. I carried the stack back to the living room.

Ethan jumped up to help me with the load. I handed him the box. "There are pajamas in there and a toothbrush. You go change in my bathroom, and I'll make up the couch for you."

He looked in the box. "You bought me pajamas?"

"I've only lived here a few weeks, and this is the third time you've shown up unannounced to sleep on my couch. And don't forget the toothbrush. I can't handle your morning breath at breakfast."

He tucked the box under his arm and kissed my cheek. "Best sister ever."

When Ethan was settled on the sectional, I returned to my room to get ready for bed. I stopped first at my purse to find my phone and plug it into its charger. I checked the screen for any notifications. Perhaps a missed message from West.

There wasn't one.

In the morning, Ethan showered in my bathroom while I made pancakes for breakfast. Olivia was still asleep. My phone buzzed on the counter, and I grabbed it immediately.

West: Did you make it home OK?

My stomach tingled. I tapped out a response. Safe and sound. You?

West: Nope. Texting you from "the other side." Heaven's 4G sucks.

I sat down at the table, smiling so wide I feared he might sense it through the phone. Heaven, huh? Now I know you're lying.

West: LOL. Did you have fun last night?

Me: I had a great time. Thanks again for the drinks.

West: Don't mention it. Let me know what you hear about your car this week.

Me: I will.

Ethan walked out of my room, rubbing his head with a towel in one hand and reading a piece of paper he was holding in the other. I got up to flip the pancakes on the griddle pan.

My phone buzzed again as I crossed the kitchen. How about we run into each other on purpose sometime soon? Have lunch, maybe?

A quiet squeal slipped out before I could stop it. I bit my lower lip and leaned against the counter.

Ethan sat down behind me. "You OK?"

"I'm fine," I said, suppressing the urge to stamp my feet with joy.

I re-read West's message a few times before working up the nerve to reply. "Be cool, Lucy."

Me: Lunch would be great. Let me know when.

West: I'm working downtown a few days this week. Once I know what my schedule will be, I'll text you.

Me: Awesome. Can't wait.

I groaned, wishing I hadn't typed "Awesome."

"Sis?"

When I looked up from my phone, I smelled the smoke rising off the griddle before I saw it. "Crap!" I grabbed the spatula and flipped the pancakes. They were charred. With a heavy sigh, I turned the pan over above the trashcan, letting our blackened breakfast slide into the garbage.

I turned to look at my brother. "Sorry."

He smiled and draped the towel around his neck. "Distracted this morning?"

"A little." I noticed the roller derby flyer on the table in front of him. "Ethan! What were you doing in my purse?"

He squished his mouth over to one side. "Looking for gas money."

I snatched the flyer off the table.

"I didn't take anything," he said, holding his hands up in defense.

"Because there wasn't any money in there to take," I said.

"Are you seriously thinking about playing roller derby?" he asked, pointing to the flyer in my hand.

I looked down at it. "I don't know. Maybe." I put it on the counter and retrieved the box of pancake mix from the pantry.

"You're the most accident-prone person I know." He got up and pulled a banana off the bunch from the fruit basket on the counter. "Now you want to play a full-contact sport on roller skates?"

I put my hands on my hips. "I'm not accident prone."

He peeled his banana. "You knocked out your two front teeth playing musical chairs in the first grade."

I frowned as I measured out another cup of the dry mix and dumped it in the glass bowl. "That game is dangerous. Erin Tucker dove headfirst into me. Not my fault." I mixed in three-quarters of a cup of water and stirred.

"In high school, you dislocated your arm trying to tighten your bra strap."

Fighting a smile, I poured four evenly spaced puddles of batter onto the hot griddle. "That was a long time ago."

"Last Christmas Eve at Uncle Matt's house, you broke two ribs coughing."

"I was choking!"

He pointed at me. "On your own spit!"

We both burst out laughing.

He picked up the flyer again and dangled it in front of my face. "This may be the dumbest idea you've ever had."

I flipped the pancakes over. They were golden brown. "I didn't say it was a sure thing. I'm just thinking about it."

"Well, don't think about it too seriously. I kinda need you around," he said, taking another huge bite of his banana.

I glared at him. "You kinda need my money and my couch."

He grinned. "You love me."

I scooped up the four perfect pancakes and dropped them on a plate for him. "You'd better be glad."

Ethan drove back home to Riverbend, but not before I filled up his gas tank at the station down the street, bought him lunch from McDonald's to eat on the drive, and gave him a wad of cash to have his phone reconnected. Little brothers: do they ever stop being exhausting?

Olivia was in the kitchen pouring a to-go cup of coffee when I walked back in. There were dark circles under her half-mast eyes and the bun on her head was a smidge lopsided.

I grimaced. "I'm afraid it's going to be a long day."

She yawned as she screwed the plastic lid on her mug. "I'll perk up when I get there. We're trying out a new appetizer today."

"Oh god. What's it called?"

"It's a cheddar fondue." She grinned behind her cup. "It's called That's What Cheese Said."

I burst out laughing. "That's terrible."

"I know. It's gonna be great." She slurped some coffee. "What are you going to do today?"

Probably sit at home and stare at my phone while I wait to hear from West Adler. I didn't say that out loud, of course. No need to draw attention to the depths of my patheticness and incite the taunts of my roommate. "Probably just stay home and watch TV. You know, Netflix and Chill."

Her eyes narrowed. "You know that means to go to someone's house for a booty call, right?"

"What?"

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "Oh, Lucy."

"I've said that to my dad." I gasped and covered my mouth with my hand. "I've posted that on Facebook."

She doubled over, nearly spilling her coffee. "Shit, that's funny."

I slumped against the counter, burying my red face in my hands.

She nudged my arm as she walked past. "As much as I'd love to stay here and give you hell about this, I've got to go to work. I'll see you tonight."

Still whimpering, I waved. "Bye."

"Don't wait up!" she called, walking out our front door.

When she was gone, and I'd somewhat recovered from my humiliation, I retired to the living room with my laptop and spent a ridiculous portion of the rest of the day researching roller derby online…and, yes, checking and rechecking my phone for lunch plans from West.

Roller derby was, surprisingly, a worldwide sport with thousands of teams in more than fifty countries. Some sites estimated that over a hundred thousand female skaters played across the globe, as well as a growing number of men in men's roller derby.

I wonder if West owns roller skates.

I checked my phone again.

Nothing.

I tossed it across the couch.

Apparently, junior roller derby was also a thing, allowing kids as young as six to lace up and play. It made me feel better about the prospect of surviving should I attempt to give it a whirl. Because if a six-year-old could do it, surely I could too. Right?

I typed the words "roller derby injuries" into the search bar of my internet browser, then clicked on "See All Images."

Oh. My. God.

The first image in the grid was of a woman's black-and-purple foot bent right at a forty-five-degree angle with her ankle bone protruding like a second misplaced heel.

Another image looked normal at first glance; then I realized the woman's skate was twisted around backward like a demon-possessed limb.

Farther down the page, a woman's collarbone was jutting through her blood-soaked shirt. Through her shirt!

With a shudder, I slammed my laptop screen closed.

Thankfully, my phone chirped just in time with a text message, and my stomach flip-flopped from nauseous to nervous with the beep. I moved the laptop to the floor and dove across the couch to snatch the phone off the far cushion.

It was Ethan.

Back n Riverbend. Stopped @ store 2 pay my bill. Phones back on. IOU $62. Thx.