“Cakegasm!” says Amanda. “And speaking of such things. Vibrators. Tell me everything I need to know.”

20

Brody

I’ve just stepped out of the shower late Saturday afternoon, ready to roll to family dinner and a night of pretending not to want to lick Rachel all over, when my phone rings.

It’s Zoë.

Instantly my heart starts pounding, because Zoë never calls anymore. All I can think is that something bad has happened to Justin.

Then I remember that Justin isn’t my responsibility.

A sour pool forms in the pit of my stomach—but it doesn’t make my heart slow down. Now I’m scared shitless for Justin and sad.

I guess it’s not so easy to stop loving a kid, just because he isn’t yours.

“’Lo?” I answer the phone.

“Brody?”

Zoë’s voice is low and unalarmed, and I take my first breath since the phone buzzed. “Yeah?”

“I need a favor.”

“What’s that?”

“I need you to take Justin tonight.”

I waited for a text last night from Rachel, letting me know that Amanda or Hanna or Lucy had spilled the beans about Zoë and Justin, but it never came.

I don’t know whether that’s because they didn’t tell her or because she didn’t want to ask me about it, but the idea of showing up at Gabe’s with Justin feels totally overwhelming.

I already have to pretend about Rachel.

Pretending about Justin to Rachel feels like more than I can handle.

“Justin isn’t my job anymore, Zoë.”

“I know, Brody. I’ll pay you. To babysit.”

That sits even worse with me. To be paid to babysit for the kid I held in my arms when he was newborn and red-faced? The kid I watched while he slept, my breath syncing with his, and rocked for hours when he couldn’t sleep? “No fucking way.”

“Just this once, Brody, please. My girlfriends are going to the casino, and I haven’t been out in so long. I’m dying.”

“Ask your mom.”

“She and my dad are in California.”

“Where the fuck is Len?”

“He’s…” She hesitates. “He went back to his wife.”

I close my eyes.

I want to hit someone. Preferably Len Dix. Of course, I’ve already done that once.

Rachel was there that night. She saw me lose my shit. That’s the only thing I regret about hitting Len. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. The feel of my knuckles connecting with his nose was beyond satisfying.

I rub a thumb over my knuckles.

I relished that bruise for days, but I wish Rachel hadn’t seen me out of my head with drink and grief and rage.