“Alright, then.” I leaned forward. “You left the bougie rehab. What’s the new plan?”
Cori came back into the main room carrying her laptop. She handed it to Johnny.
“They’re sending your medical records to your email address.”
“Johnny has an email address?” For some reason, I found this funny. Whenever he’d stayed at my house, he hadn’t even had a hairbrush.
“Cori set it up for me when she went away to college.”
They looked at one another, and I could guess the rest. There had been times while I was in prison when Johnny hadbeen more functional, short periods when he’d held jobs and apartments, and a longer stretch of sobriety after Eliazar died. He’d told me that himself.
“It’s come in handy a few times,” Cori said vaguely. “Especially because Johnny doesn’t always have a phone.” She pointed at the laptop. “Log in to your account. Conscious Horizons is sending over all the records from your time there, along with instructions on how to continue accessing your medications. I got that sorted with the online pharmacy they connected me with, so your meds will be sent here. Can you forward everything to me, so I have a copy?”
“Yes, Mom. I told you I’m not trying to make this worse. I already knew you’d be pissed enough.” He clicked into his email, and ten seconds later, Cori’s phone pinged with a notification.
“Well, I guess that’s something. I’m relieved you came here, even knowing I’d be mad.”
“Your brother was just telling me what his new plan is,” I interjected, not wanting to lose the thread of that conversation.
Johnny scraped a hand over his face. “No plan yet.” He rolled his shoulders before stretching his hands above his head. “Do you mind if I crash for the night? I’m totally beat. We can figure it all out in the morning, okay?”
Cori nodded, and I knew she was thinking about the last time Johnny slept at her place.
“Will you take the guest room this time?” she asked.
“Sure, Sis.” He grabbed his duffel, stopping to give her a kiss on the head as he made his way to the stairs. “I’ll see you in the morning. Promise.”
Cori sat down on the couch, resting her head in her hands. “Thanks for coming, Deck,” she said through her fingers. “Maybe it was overkill that I called you. But I’m glad you came.”
“Of course I came.” I sat next to her. “That’s what husbands do.”
“Really pushing that to the outer limit, huh?” She chortled, looking up with tired eyes. “I’ll take it.”
“Glad I can amuse you.”
“I feel guilty saying this, but it’s so exhausting. Being scared for my brother all the time.” She sniffed, sinking back into the cushions.
The defeat in her voice killed me. “I’m so fucking sorry, Cor. I wish I could snap my fingers and fix him for you.” She had no idea how much I wished for it. How deep my regret ran.
She bent one leg and turned in my direction, resting her head on her elbow over the back of the couch. “It’s so hard to explain to someone who doesn’t understand. The worrying. I’ve been on my own with it for so long.”
“I know. And you’ve been amazing for Johnny. But now that I’m here, I’ll help as much as you want me to. As much as you’ll let me. Whatever you need.”
I had kept her at arm’s length for over a decade, but having a taste of Cori these past few weeks had confirmed that she was still in my blood. I’d spent enough nights in a lonely cell recalling those sky-blue eyes to know she’d never left my system. It didn’t surprise me that we’d gone from not speaking to co-conspirators so quickly. I’d missed my rock.
It was the best thing I’d ever been—Cori’s friend.
Before I could register the move, she curled her legs up against my side and rested her head on my shoulder. “Don’t push me away again, Deck, alright?” she implored softly. “Don’t try to be a stranger.”
Instinctively, I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. Her hand rose to hold mine, keeping me in place. She nestled deeper into my side, and I felt the wetness of her tears.
Gulping roughly, I grazed my fingers down her arm. “Never again, Cori,” I vowed.
She tilted her head back to peer at me. And no one had ever looked so beautiful with tear streaks staining their cheeks.
“I’ve missed you, Deck,” she whispered.
There was so much I could have said. But it had never been our way to say things out loud. Because that would make them true. And there had always been too much going on around us to tell the truth.
