Page 36 of Don't Leave Me Behind
We were having a good night, the best night, actually. The five of us were dancing with each other, paying no mind to anyone showing interest in us. We were being safe, responsible even. It was shaping up to be one of my favorite nights, until it wasn’t.
Brooks and Ethan showed up and physically removed us from the club. They hauled a screaming Miya out of that bar with me, making such a scene that the bouncers came over to check if we were okay. Ethan gave them one look, lied to say I was his underage sister, and they let them haul us out.
None of the girls talked to Miya or me again.
They drove us back home, not to our dorms. They didn’t say anything on the car ride, not even letting us stop to pee.
Brooks waited until we were parked in front of the main house before assuming an intimidating position, with big arms crossed over his chest. The first thing he did was let us know how stupid we were for dressing the way we did. When I askedwhat they were even doing in Benson, he said they came to celebrate my birthday with me. Which is bullshit, because fall on the ranch is a busy time of year. The prep for winter is intense and fast-paced. Brooks wasn’t there to celebrate. He was there to make sure I didn’t have too much fun. That’s the kind of shit they pulled, over and over, until I threatened to move across the country and never come home.
They conceded a little bit after that. They might not drive to Benson to insert themselves into my life anymore, but it certainly doesn’t stop them from running commentary about the choices I make whenever I am home. From the clothes I wear to the state of my Jeep is apparently fair game. It’s maddening.
Shaking off the memories, I bring the dress with me, wondering what sequins look like when they burn. I snatch up two random books off my bookshelf and Speckles, heading for the door when footsteps come down the hallway.
I listen to the steps make their way down the hall. They keep going, and the breath rushes out of me when I finally can’t hear them anymore.
I’m about to celebrate my victory when my phone starts to ring.Loud.In my panic to shut the ringer off, I accidentally swipe to answer it. Mercer’s voice comes muffled from behind my palm as I try to listen to the background. Checking if anyone is around now, or if they heard the phone.
I don’t hear any footsteps, but I can hear someone banging around in the kitchen. Probably Ma, which limits my options for escape. Thank God, this part of the house is all ground level.
“Uh, hello?”
“Hey,” I whisper, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder as I ease the old wooden window open. I peek my head out, checking to make sure the coast is clear before I stepone leg through the opening. I set my foot into one of Mom’s prized peony bushes. “Oh fuck.” I keep my voice quiet, trying to right the stems while staying out of the kitchen window’s line of sight.
“What the fuck are you doing, Leni?”
“Hang on, D, I’m a little busy.”
He’s quiet on his end. The sounds of cows come through. Well, that’s good, at least I know the guys are still out. It takes a ridiculous amount of effort to coax the window back down, the wood swollen with humidity.
“Goddamn, fucking thing.” I rip my finger back, disgust churning in my gut when I see the inch-long splinter embedded in my index finger.
Mercer snorts into his phone. “You have the loveliest mouth on you, Sis.”
I can’t help but chuckle, still trying to keep quiet.
“Whatareyou doing? Robbing a bank?”
“No,” I gasp. “That would be way cooler! Edna fell asleep in the living room. I’m trying to be courteous.”
“Courteous? That woman can barely hear with her hearing aids in, Leni. I doubt you’ll wake her up by talking.”
I crouch down, trying to keep my steps quiet, so Mercer won’t pick up on the gravel crunching beneath my feet. Hopefully, the cows are loud enough that he won’t hear anything at all. Counting to ten in my head, I sprint across the driveway between the main house and the big barn, cursing internally when one of the brood mares in the paddock whinnies at me.
“Was that a horse?”
“Yeah, I definitely heard a horse on your end.” I try to play it off, talking in my normal voice now.
“Why are you out of breath now?”
“I ran up the stairs.” I shrug, even though he can’t see me.
“Jesus, I thought I was out of shape.”
I scoff at him, indignation burning a path up my throat. This is why I don’t initiate contact. No matter which brother I talk to, they always have something to say to me. Something to point out that I’m doing wrong, as if making one mistake in high school makes me incapable of ever growing up and learning.
“Did you call me to insult me, brother?”
“No, I meant what I said in our text this morning. Life would be better, nay, perfect, if you would get your ass back home.”
