Page 99 of String Boys

Oh. Yikes. Yeah, Seth didn’t get any private time with Vince around either.

Well, a couple of days.

Matty wants to spend Christmas Day with us.

Don’t mention the day after, okay?Seth felt cold in his stomach at the thought.

No shit. We already talked to the girls about it. Even Agnes knows he doesn’t get to come.

Okay—make sure I’m off the phone when he’s there.

God, I love you. Just take care for the next couple of days, okay? I don’t want to do anything to jinx it. It’s like I’m shaking I need to see you so bad.

Yearning. Seth knew the taste of it now, the bitterness of want, the cramping in his stomach that came with unfulfilled need.I promise.

Me too. I love you. Good night.

I love you too. Good night.

“YOU ASSHOLE.”

Seth didn’t let his death grip around Kelly’s shoulders relax one bit. Kelly wasn’t pushing him away, but he was still pissed.

“I have no idea what you mean.” Seth stuck his face in the hollow of Kelly’s shoulder and breathed deeply.

“I almost hung up on you Christmas morning, you realize that, don’t you?”

Seth had asked for Amara’s help before she left to visit her family, and had spent some of his “Christmas bonus” on makeup to hide the bruising. There was no hiding the swelling in his lip or his nose or his eye, though.

He’d ignored Kelly’s surprised gasp and powered through Christmas morning, oohing and ahhing over each of the girl’s presents as they held it up for the phone. His dad had outdone himself—with Seth and Amara’s help, actually. Amara knew where to shop on the cheap, mail order, and Seth had money his dad didn’t know about. Between the two of them, they’d sent his dad clothes and school supplies and toys for the girls, and art supplies for Kelly.

And, on Amara’s prompting, a gift certificate at a day spa for Linda, whom Amara regarded with fear and awe. “My mom had no job and two kids, and every time she drove me to flute lessons, it was like I owed her my life.”

Seth had been on his own for his dad, and in the end, he’d sent him something… odd. And whimsical. A model kit of his beloved car so his dad would have something to do in the evenings while hanging out with the Cruz family that would give him a reason to come home.

His dad had looked at it and then looked at the camera and grinned. Like a little kid.

“I loved these when I was in school,” he said. “I had over a hundred of them before I moved out. They were, like, my best thing.”

Seth had wanted to dance.

He’d been about to do the closest thing to that—play Christmas songs for the family—when Matty had pounded on the door.

Obviously drunk.

Seth watched the joy in the family dissipate, and his father bent his head and sighed. “We’ll go deal with this, son. Merry Christmas. We love you.”

Kelly’s expression told him everything as the girls all cried, “We love you! Goodbye! Goodbye!” and he had to hit End Call.

Later that night, Kelly had written him a long, rambling email about calling the cops on his brother because Seth’s dad had gone outside and offered to take Matty to a meeting, and Matty had swung on him.

Craig Arnold was no fool. He’d ducked and gone inside and called the police.

And Matty had been put in a drunk tank and asked to sleep it off.

And Craig had bailed him out the next morning and taken him back to rehab—on his dime.

Seth had wanted to cry, and he was pretty sure Kellydidcry, but they weren’t going to talk about that now.