Never Doubt Me: Judge Me Not #2(17)

“I know,” I say, nodding.

God, I know all too well what he means. Mom’s not been solid in the way we’ve needed since Dad died.

“I didn’t know what to do when Cassie called,” Will continues, “when I was at the airport. I didn’t mean to blow off coming here that day. But what was I supposed to do? When I got to Cass’s house, it was just so…bad. But I am sorry we ran away like we did. I didn’t mean to show up here and put you on the spot. I’d never want for you to end up in trouble because of me. It’s just that I…I can’t keep doing this shit all on my own. I can’t, Chase, I can’t…”

Will trails off, and I lean down and kiss his head of wet hair.

“You don’t have to keep doing everything on your own,” I whisper soothingly. “I’m here. Even when you’re in Nevada, Will, I’m always just a phone call away. And if things ever get really bad, I’ll be there for you. I’ll fly out to Vegas, bro, I swear, whatever you need.”

“Thank you,” he sobs.

I knew this f*cking bullshit would catch up to my brother—this saving Cassie, this running away. Will can’t save the world. He’s only fifteen, for f*ck’s sake. With all this in mind, I hold on to my brother like I used to when he was a small child. I let him cry it out. He’s practically curled up in my lap, so I bury my nose in his shoulder. He smells the same way he used to when he was a small child—clean. And it’s not the kind of clean from just showering, though there is that, too. But my brother also smells innocent, unsullied by maturity.

We don’t say a word for the longest time. There’s simply no need to.

As if the sketch wasn’t proof enough, the fact that my brother lets me hold him like I used to convinces me he still needs me—a lot. He may never call me “Chasey” again, like he did when he was little, but he’ll always be my baby brother. To me, he’ll always be that uncoordinated little kid who used to look up to me, who once longed to be like me, the little boy who needed me. And what’s become glaringly obvious tonight is that Will still needs me.

I’m going to be here for him, just like I promised.

When Will calms and pulls away, he looks embarrassed. I punch him in the arm. Not hard, but not completely easy, either.

“Ow! What the f*ck, dick.” My brother rubs his bicep.

“That’s for hitting me earlier, like multiple f*cking times.” I pause, catch his gaze. “And also…just because.”

Really, I am giving my brother the chance to save face. Not to mention, it’s my f*cked-up guy way of letting him know I love him.

But he likes to press, so he says all cocky like, “’Cause why?”

I ignore his inquiry and stand up. He stands up, too. I try to stare him down, make myself look all stern, but hell, I gotta smile. The little shit is giving me attitude, all in good fun.

I reach out and f*ck up his still-wet hair. “Don’t worry about why,” I tell him. “Just get the f*ck to bed.”

Will ducks under my arm, but not before grabbing up his duffel bag. I notice he makes damn sure the tree house sketch is secure before he takes off down the hall.

“Good night, Will,” I call out over my shoulder.

When he doesn’t answer, I turn around. He gives me the finger.

“Hey, Will,” I say, more serious now.

He stops, but doesn’t turn to face me.

“I f*ck with you because I love you, all right? And I’ve missed being around you like this. I’ve missed being your brother.”

Will’s shoulders sag, and he starts into his room. But before he closes the door, I hear him say, “I’ve missed you, too, Chase. I love you, bro.”



The next day, I take Will to work with me, and since Cassie has no desire to hang out all alone at the house, she asks Kay if she can tag along, too. Of course, Kay’s cool with that.

All I can say is thank God Father Maridale is a laid-back kind of dude. He just shakes his head when he sees the four of us piling out of Kay’s car in the morning.

Everyone waves jovially, and Father waves back. Kay and Cassie head over to the church office in the rectory, while Will and I walk over to the school.

“So…what do you want to paint?” my brother asks me a short while later.

We’re standing side by side, staring at a completely blank wall in the school entrance area. The bright-white smooth expanse is like one giant, big-ass canvas, just waiting for our ideas to give it life.

I shrug one shoulder and glance over at my brother. He’s wearing faded jeans and a plain white T-shirt, just like me.

“You got any ideas?” I ask him. “I’m thinking this is more your area of expertise.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, chuckling. “You want me to draw comics on the wall?”

“No, smart-ass.” I roll my eyes. “I was thinking of something more along the lines of a cartoon scene of some sort. Remember what I told you last night?”

“That kids go to school here,” Will replies.

“Little kids,” I stress. “This is a grade school.”

We have drop cloths down, and there are paint cans all around us. There must be twenty different colors. Will picks up a brush, contemplates, and then dips the tip into a can of cinnamon-brown.