Stepbrother Dearest(44)

“Have you figured out what you’re in the mood for?”

Admitting the true answer to that question would have put me back at square one.

Seeing as though the rum and Coke I’d had earlier had gone right through me, I said, “I’m heading to the bathroom. You decide what you feel like.”

I took the opportunity to freshen up even though I still smelled like the alcohol that spilled on my dress earlier. I guess I could have afforded to buy myself a new dress now.

When I emerged from the bathroom, Elec was looking down at his phone. When he looked up, his face appeared pale.

“Are you alright?”

His hand was trembling, and he wouldn’t answer me.

“Elec?”

“I just got this text. It’s from an unknown number.”

He handed me the phone.

I was confused. “22?”

“Look what time it says the message came in.”

“2:22. That’s weird, but why does it bother you?”

“Randy’s birthday is February 22nd.”

Chills ran through me. “You think the message is from Randy?”

His eyes stayed fixed on the phone. “I don’t know what to think.”

“It might just be a coincidence. Why would he just send you the number 22?”

“I don’t normally believe in that shit. I have no idea. It just weirded me out.”

“I can understand why.”

Elec was preoccupied all throughout our meal at the steakhouse. I knew he was obsessing over the text. To be honest, it really freaked me out as well.

Reentering the bright lights of the casino after dinner did nothing to lighten Elec’s mood. At one point, I’d gone to get us a couple of drinks.

When I returned to where he was sitting, my heart felt like it fell to my stomach. He was wiping tears from his eyes. It shocked me to see my hardened stepbrother crying out in the open.

It was proof that we can’t always choose the moment the reality of a loss hits us. Sometimes, it’s predictable, and other times, it happens in the place you’d least expect. He hadn’t cried at the wake or the burial but had chosen this moment here in this crowded casino to let go.

“Don’t look at me, Greta.”

Ignoring his plea for privacy, I put the drinks down and slid my seat closer to his. I pulled him toward me and held him into my chest. He didn’t resist. The moisture from his tears seeped through the top of my dress. His fingernails dug into my back as if he were holding onto me for dear life. The harder he cried, the more I wanted to comfort him and the tighter I held onto him.

No one seemed to notice us in our corner of the room, although it wouldn’t have mattered to me if they had.

His shaking seemed to calm down, and eventually, he was just breathing onto my chest.

“I hate this,” he said. “I shouldn’t be crying for him. Why am I crying for him?”

“Because you loved him.”

His voice was trembling again. “He hated me.”

“He hated whatever he saw in you that reminded him of himself. He didn’t hate you. He couldn’t have. He just didn’t know how to be a father.”

“There’s a lot I haven’t told you. The screwed up thing is, after all the shit we went through, I still wanted to make him proud of me someday, wanted him to love me.”

“I know you did.”

He continued to lean on me. At one point, he looked up, and his gray eyes were laced with red. “Where would I be tonight without you?”

“I’m glad I got to be the one with you tonight.”

“I’ve never cried in front of anyone before. Not once.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“There’s a bad joke in there somewhere. You know that, right?”

We both laughed. I imagined how good it must have felt for him to laugh. For me, laughter never felt better than when it followed a good cry.

“You make me feel things, Greta. You always have. When I’m around you, whether it’s good or bad…I feel everything. Sometimes, I don’t handle it too well, and I fight it by acting like an *. I don’t know what it is about you, but I feel like you see the real me. The second I saw you again for the first time at Greg’s when you were standing in that garden…it was like I couldn’t hide behind myself anymore.” He rubbed my cheek with his thumb. “I know it was hard for you to see me with Chelsea. I know you still care about me. I can feel it even when you’re pretending you’ve stopped.”

“This has been hard, but it was worth it to be able to see you again.”

“I don’t want to cry anymore tonight.”

“I don’t want you to cry anymore, either. But if you feel like you have to, don’t be afraid to. It’s good to let it out.”

He was staring at my lips. I was staring at his. The past few minutes had weakened me. I wanted to kiss him. I knew I couldn’t, but the need was so intense I had to get up from my seat.

I was feeling like I was going to burst—both physically and emotionally. We were sitting diagonally across from the roulette wheel. It was the only non-slot game I understood how to play. I needed to take my impulsivity out on something and had an idea.

When you’re gambling with your heart, taking a chance with money seems like nothing. I headed for the roulette table and threw a bunch of bills from my stash down on one number.