Loser II || WlW

Twenty-Eight

     Kyle. Kyle is here. Kyle the cop. The cop who wanted to put me in prison. The cop who let his brother beat me and left me in the woods to die. Kyle Hemmett. The man who un-ironically sports aviators and wears shirts two sizes too small to show off his less-than-average biceps.

"I didn't send you a message," Brittany snaps. "I can't even find my phone."

Kyle shrugs. "Well, someone wanted me here."

Brittany grabs his arm. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" she asks as she pulls him toward one of the offices.

Everyone's watching me but I'm not nearly as concerned about Kyle being here as I am about how he got here.

I glance at Ron who's looking at anyone but me. "How did he get up here?" The question shatters the silence.

Ron looks at me, his stony expression only faltering for a moment. "Probably drove."

"I thought the roads were un-drivable," I counter.

He chews his cheek and says, "Listen, miss. I don't know what you're trying to get at but we operate on a very strict policy that's been in place for years. We will not put the lives of our campers in danger to get down the mountain in unsafe driving conditions. Now, if you'd like to file a complaint through corporate go right on ahead."

We exchange glares, only breaking eye contact when Chrissy claps her hands together and says, "Okay, how about some lunch? I brought enough soup for everyone."

I stare at her, expecting her to laugh. She has to be kidding, right?

Ron is the first to push past me into the kitchen. "Thank you, Chrissy. That is very thoughtful of you."

Then Donna. "I could use a bite."

Grace follows silently and then Roger and his son, leaving only Zachary and I standing around the long couches in front of the fireplace.

I want to say something but I don't trust myself to speak without crying. I could hug him. We could go back to normal so fast. Fall back into sibling banter and acting on our dumb ideas. 

Like the time it snowed at home and he convinced me to sled off the roof in a trashcan lid. My lips pull into a smile at how angry Dad was. He locked the trashcans in the shed for the rest of winter.

When I zone in, he's smiling too and I can't help but wonder if, through some kind of sibling telepathy, he's thinking of the same memory. He opens his mouth to say something, closes it. Instead, he offers a small shrug and points over his shoulder at Brittany and Kyle before he heads to Chrissy's side to help serve soup.

Why won't he talk to me? Maybe because every time he's tried, I've shut him down. Maybe I could try listening to him for once. The image of my dad rushes all around me. Would he be proud of me? He always put family first. He worked his entire life to get Mom the best doctors and to get Zachary in the best rehabilitation facilities. And Zach killed him for it. It didn't matter in the end. It didn't matter how many times my dad forgave him. In the end, it killed him.

I jump when Brittany squeezes my shoulder. "You okay, J?"

"What is he doing here?" I ask, glancing back at Kyle.

Brittany sighs, runs a hand through her hair. "Whoever has my phone must have messaged him." She pulls me away from the others. "I convinced him to take us down the mountain though. He's going to wait for us to pack our bags."

"Kyle," I pause. "Kyle is going to help... me?"

She chuckles.

"You didn't offer to bang him, did you?" I smile.