Page 47 of Play the Part (Marsford Bay #2)

HUXLEY

T he bus is late. I just came out of woodworking class, and I’m standing under the streetlight, scuffing the wet pavement with my boots, jumping in place and looking up to the night sky trying to expel some impatient energy.

I really need a fucking car.

“Hux?”

The voice is vaguely familiar and prickles in my ears.

Looking to my right, I find a blond man in his early thirties staring back at me.

Shit.

“Finn?”

Even though it sounds like casual disbelief, I’m actually experiencing existential dread, triggered by a ghost from my past.

Patrick Finnegan.

An infamous family name back in my old neighborhood, and one of three guys—including his older brother, Sean—who was involved in the liquor store robbery with me, six years ago.

It was his idea in the first place. And being the idiot that I am, I went along with it and almost ruined my whole life in the process.

Finn barks out a laugh and claps me on the shoulder. I try to hide my wince.

“Thought that was you.” He takes a drag of his cigarette and waves it in my direction. “Always with that blue fucking hair.”

I silently curse the late bus and return his comment with a dry laugh.

“Yeah, kind of my thing, I guess.” I pause and decide not to beat around the bush. “When did you get out?”

Smoke billows from his lips before he answers. “Just a few months ago.” He flashes me a crooked smile and looks around as if just realizing I’m standing at the bus stop. “You strapped for cash, brother? I can hook you up for old times’ sake.” He winks. “I’ve got a great connection.”

I can only imagine what the hell that means. Knowing him, he’s probably back to selling drugs. I try not to act disgusted, hoping he’ll just leave me alone if I placate his small talk. Although I still let a small dig slip under the guise of camaraderie.

I grin. “Should have known you’d never go straight.”

“Yeah.” Finn laughs. “Trick is to not get caught this time.”

I see the bus finally pull up from the corner of my eye. Relieved, I quickly say my farewells.

“Anyway, I’ve got to go. Good to see you.”

Fucking lie.

“Good to see you too, brother,” he replies with a wave. “And you know where to find me if you ever change your mind.”

I shoot him a salute and jog up the steps of the bus. Inside, I sit near a window and watch Finn stroll down the street, hands deep in his coat pockets.

Our interaction has put me on edge, and I try to sift through my feelings before I get too lost in my own head. It’s a layered mess of anxiety, discomfort, but also … pride?

It’s such an unfamiliar feeling that I hardly recognize it.

It’s a growing pride in who I’m becoming.

Pride in the life I’m slowly building for myself.

Seeing Finn was like seeing a future that could have been; a parallel universe so close to mine it’s only separated by one or two wrong choices.

I settle into my seat and pull out my book from my bag, but I’m still lost in thought. Connie must be rubbing off on me because I choose to take this chance encounter as a sign from the universe. A sign that maybe I am doing good. And that I’m finally on the right path for once.

“Huxley!”

Charlie jumps off the couch and barrels my way, practically knocking the wind out of me.

“Hey, little dude,” I say, ruffling his brown curls and returning his hug.

Charlie might be a teenager now, but he doesn’t seem to have lost his childlike glee. I was a walking cloud of anger and doom at fourteen, but not Charlie. Of all the siblings, he seems to have come out the least unscathed. Good for him. That makes one of us.

I look up to find Ozzy silently watching me from the couch, a subtle grin on his lips. His curious expression probably has to do with my unexpected visits lately. I’ve been coming around the house a lot more in the past month.

“Are you staying for a bit?” Charlie says, stars in his eyes. “Ozzy and I have been rewatching all the Fast & Furious movies, we’re on Tokyo Drift right now.” He smiles wide. “It’s my favorite.”

I chuckle as I take off my coat.

“Yeah, I’ll stay a while. Tokyo Drift is my favorite too.”

When the movie is over and Charlie has gone to bed, Ozzy and I end up in the kitchen, having one last beer before I leave. I’m sitting on the counter while Ozzy leans against the stove, a comfortable silence accompanying us.

“Charlie loves it when you come around,” Ozzy says with an easy smile before taking a swig of beer.

I can tell he’s not trying to guilt-trip me. Just a simple observation from my older brother.

“Yeah, about that …”

I look down at the floor and let out a heavy exhale, feeling apprehensive about what I’m about to say.

This visit wasn’t quite as out of the blue as I made it seem.

As a nervous tick, I press my lips and rub them together, chewing on my barbell, while I slide my gaze back to Ozzy, who’s waiting for me to continue.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

Ozzy chuckles. “Should I be worried?”

I snort out a laugh. “No — no need. Just something that’s been on my mind lately.” But then my earlier encounter comes back to me. “Although I did bump into Finn earlier at the bus stop.”

Ozzy’s brows lift in surprise, then dip in what looks like anger. “Patrick Finnegan?”

“The one and only,” I mutter before taking a sip of beer.

My brother rolls his eyes and scoffs as if the very thought of him is getting him riled up.

“What did that lowlife have to say?”

I shrug. “Not much. Asked me if I needed a job.” Ozzy’s eyes narrow as if shooting me an invisible threat. I crack a smile and snicker. “Stop looking at me like that, I got out of there as soon as I could.”

“Good,” Ozzy mutters.

“Anyway,” I say, trying to get back on track. “That’s irrelevant and not what I wanted to talk about.” I place my beer beside me on the counter and rub my face with both hands before putting my weight on my palms on either side of my thighs. “I’ve been unpacking my childhood a lot in therapy.”

The spark of pride in Ozzy’s eyes has me groaning internally, and it takes me everything not to roll my eyes at him. I continue nonetheless.

“Part of me expected to talk about Dad a lot more than Mom, given she was absent for most of my childhood but …” My chuckle sounds like a mixture of disbelief and sadness.

“Apparently she’s at the root of a lot of my issues.

” I shake my head, looking down at my feet before sharing a loaded stare with Ozzy.

“It made me realize that it was unfair of me to have placed all my anger on you when you moved out. My therapist says that you leaving triggered my abandonment issues. And since Mom never cared to even notice me, well,”—I rub my palm over my scalp and shrug—“I transferred all that blame to you instead, and I’m sorry for that, I really am.

” There’s a lump in my throat, and I’m having trouble keeping eye contact with Ozzy, but I stay steadfast and try not to berate myself for feeling so emotional.

“And then that made me think of Charlie and how I disappeared on him, too, and how I hate the idea of being another person in his life that he can’t depend on. ”

Ozzy hasn’t moved, staring at me with wide, watery eyes, and my voice cracks when I finally speak the last of my thoughts.

“I want to be there for him like you were there for me — even when I didn’t want you to be. And so, I guess what I’m trying to say is.”—I swallow hard—“Thank you for never giving up on me.”

We haven’t stopped staring at each other. The silence thickens the longer Ozzy doesn’t speak, but it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. It simply appears like he’s letting what I just told him sink in.

Finally, he moves, dragging his hand through his curls while placing his beer on the counter with the other. His smile is coy, but it’s mixed with something I can’t quite place.

When he eventually speaks, his words are slow and carefully chosen.

“I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear you say that until just now.

” His smile widens, and this time, I don’t miss the love radiating through his facial expression.

He takes a step toward me. “Come here,” he says, waving me into an embrace.

I slide down from the counter and hug my brother tightly. This time, when the feeling bubbles up inside of me, I don’t hesitate to voice it.

“I love you,” I say, still hugging him. “I hope you know that.”

Pulling away, Ozzy beams up at me and gives me a soft tap on the arm as if wordlessly reassuring me.

“Always,” he says. “I never doubted it.”