“Open the fucking door,” Ethan bellowed and pounded a fist against the flimsy wood. He imagined he could punch through the door if he hit hard enough.
Rain swung it open before he could try.
“Chill out. Jesus.” She peeked out the door. “Where's Lazaro?”
“Where's Graham?”
The skin around her eyes crinkled. Her lips drew to a straight line.
Ethan's stomach dropped. “Tell me he's still here.”
“This isn't a prison.”
“You told him I was coming over?”
“So?”
“I ask you to do one simple thing, and you can't even do that. He stole my car, Rain.”
One side of her mouth quirked up. “I know.”
“And yet you let him take off again.”
“What, you want me to chain him to the sofa?”
“You could have, for once, acted like a responsible mother.”
She started to come back, but her gaze shifted to something behind him.
Ethan turned around. Lazaro had caught up. He refused to meet either of their eyes.
“Are you happy now?” Rain asked.
Ethan stepped between them. “Don't blame him for this.”
“You're sticking up for him now?”
Lazaro shoved Ethan aside and moved into the doorway. “I don't need anyone to stick up for me. Get off my case already.”
“Did Graham say where he was going?” Ethan asked.
Rain covered her ears. “Too many people shouting at me right now.”
“I ain't shouting,” Lazaro said.
“Get out. Both of you. I'm sick of being harassed.”
Ethan squeezed by Lazaro and barged into the apartment, forcing Rain back. He stepped up to her, putting his face inches from hers. “You want to see Graham in jail?”
“Don't be a dick. If you call the cops on him for stealing your car—”
“The cops suspect Graham for Alison.”
Her skin paled, making the bruise on her face look darker.
“The last thing I need is him out joyriding. He's in serious trouble.”
Lazaro clapped a hand on Ethan's shoulder. “Slow down and breathe.”
Ethan closed his eyes, took a moment to try and still the anger and fear mixing inside of him. When he opened his eyes, Rain's face looked a little softer, even with the bruise and the cut lip.
Their eyes met a moment, and something triggered Ethan's memory much like a scent can bring back an entire forgotten season.
“That's better,” Lazaro said. “Why don't we all chill?”
Rain glanced up at her brother. She looked like she had a few more things to say to him, but she kept them to herself. “Whatever.”
Lazaro took another step inside and shut the door, then went into the kitchen and hit the fridge.
“You want a beer, bro?”
Rain sighed. “Help yourself, Laz.”
“Of course.” He drew two bottles of Miller Lite, one in each hand, and waggled them at Ethan. “How 'bout it?”
“I need to find Graham.”
“The kid ain't an idiot. He'll be all right. Besides, where would you even start?”
“I know a couple of his friends.”
Lazaro shook his head. “Don't you think maybe he needs some space or something? He's the one the cops got a hard-on for. Don't you think he's just as freaked as you?”
“Probably more freaked,” Rain piped in.
Ethan looked back and forth between them. Did they really think he could take parenting advice from a drug addict and an ex-con?
Lazaro kicked the fridge closed and strolled into the living room, offered Ethan the beer. “It's a twist off.”
Why shouldn't he take it?
Because these people will ruin your life, Ethan.
He looked at the beer. His mouth watered. He turned to Rain.
She rolled her eyes. “Do whatever you want. I'm going to bed.” She sauntered down the short hall and into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
“She'll get over it,” Lazaro said.
“Get over what?”
Lazaro snickered. “She misses you, bro. You can't see that?”
“That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard.”
Lazaro slapped one of the beers into Ethan's hand. “Drink.”
Ethan wrapped his fingers around the bottle. The glass had already warmed a little, as if the fridge wasn't working right. He twisted off the cap. A citrus-smelling mist sprayed the air.
Lazaro opened his own beer and raised the bottle to toast. “Glad to have you back.”
Ethan did not raise his own bottle. “I'm not back, Laz.”
“You're here, right? You're drinking a beer with me.”
“That doesn't mean . . .” He stopped himself. Did he really think throwing back beers with Lazaro would lead to anything but more trouble? He set the beer on the coffee table. “I have to go.”
“Hold it. Where you going?”
“What difference does it make? I can't stay here.”
“Why not?”
Ethan threw his hands up, exasperated. “Don't you get it? You two are trouble. Always have been, always will be.”
“If that's true for us, it's the same for you.”
“The difference between you and me is that I wanted to change. I made an effort. You two don't want to change. You're perfectly happy with who you are.”
“What's wrong with that? Besides, you don't know me. You don't know how I feel.” Lazaro picked at the label on his bottle. “Some days I hate myself more than anything. Some days I want it all to just stop. You ever feel like that?”
“If you mean dying, then no. I've never felt that low.”
“It ain't pleasant. I wish I didn't feel that way. Rain gets on my case to take these pills, supposed to help. Maybe they do. I can't tell. Every day goes by, I don't know if I'm gonna want to wake up or not.”
Ethan waited, unsure what to say.
“It ain't an excuse, and I don't use it for one. But you don't know me as well as you think, Ethan. And the same probably goes for Rain.”
“I left Rain for Alison and Graham's sake. She's a hype and I didn't want my kids around that.”
“I know,” Lazaro said. “Rain too. We ain't perfect, but we ain't stupid neither.”
“If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you were telling me I did the right thing.”
Lazaro picked up the beer Ethan had left on the coffee table and held it out.
Maybe prison had done Lazaro some good. Sure hadn't rehabilitated him—the stolen Nova parked outside was proof of that. Still, all that time locked up might have given him enough perspective to see Ethan's departure hadn't been the personal insult Lazaro first interpreted it as.
Ethan accepted the offered beer.
Lazaro clinked his bottle against Ethan's.
Ethan took a sip. Warm, but that didn't ruin the almost instant effect the taste had on his tongue, like a drop of water on a dry sponge. A bubble of laughter popped out of him. “My son stole my fucking car.”
“Kid's got stones.” Lazaro grinned. “Takes after his dad.”
The beer seemed to go flat in Ethan's mouth. He swallowed and took another sip. Warm and flat.
But he kept drinking.