Listen, Obey

42. Forty-Second Lesson

We didn't say another word until we got into the car. It was a strange sort of silence—a void where time slowed down and paused at every recurring thought. Circles. Circular arguments. I couldn't think of any feasible way of getting Jace out of Sam's clutches, at least nothing that would keep him out of that sphere of people for good. If months spent at St. Mary's didn't help, then what could I possibly do to help him get free from his addiction?

I strapped the seat belt around my shaking body, fumbling with the clasp until Matthews helped me. Had it been another day, I would have blushed or slapped his hand, but I accepted his help without complaint.

"You've been dealt a shit hand, Ethan."

Looking out the window, I saved myself from answering. There was no answer. I didn't want his pity, but a no would sound like the lie it was. Life wasn't helping me out, but most of it was my own fault. Blaming others or life itself was just another lie, and using evasive explanations for my failure wouldn't help me sort out any of the crap surrounding me.

Matthews placed his hand on mine and squeezed before he revved the engine and drove away. When his touch disappeared, I folded my arms to keep my hands safe from further pitying.

"Do you want to go home, or do something else?"

I shook my head, not knowing exactly what I was trying to convey.

"Home it is, then."

I slumped back against the seat and allowed my brain to run away with me once more, traveling back in time to a period where I might have been able to save both Jace and myself.

We were fourteen at the time, spending our afternoons in the park instead of at home despite the chill creeping upon us earlier and earlier in the day. Frost glistened on dying straws of grass and the stars kept staring at us in reproach. We smoked weed bought with money stolen from our parents, and occasionally, my brother.

Jace didn't like the stealing part, but I had no scruples. My parents already hated me.

Jace said something about how he wanted his future to be, and I remember saying that all I wanted was to move out of our house and leave my rotten family behind. Jace was the dreamer; he was the guy who kept his grades up despite our visits to the park. He would be something one day, someone important. He had everything going for him. Medical school, Harvard law, nothing would be too hard for him. At least that's what I thought then.

The sound of Matthews' voice brought me back into the car—from a cold starry night to a gray world of sludge.

For the first time since I stepped into the car, I looked his way. "Sorry." I hadn't heard him.

"Never mind."

"No, tell me what you said."

"I asked if you're okay, which is a stupid fucking question."

I almost managed to chuckle. Matthews never swore, and it sounded wrong coming from his lips. My lips tried a smile, at least.

"I'm worried about him, but I'm glad we're out of there." When I said it, I realized that the words were true. I was glad that we got away and that nothing had happened to Matthews. I would never forgive myself if something had gone wrong.

"Do you want to tell me about him?" he asked.

"Jace?"

"Yes."

"He's the only one I'd call family." I could have said a thousand things, but every word was a painful reminder of how far we both had fallen. Jace never got his dream; instead, he followed me into the abyss. It was unfair that I had climbed out of there while he remained.

"That explains what that man said."

I could tell that Matthews had as much trouble with expressing himself as I did. The frown across his forehead was enough of a sign of all the questions he wanted to ask but couldn't voice.

"After high school we ended up spending most of our time together. High, that is. When he almost froze to death, we ended up at St. Mary's."

Matthews only nodded, and his silent presence made it easier to continue. "We were given another chance, but while he deserved it the most, he apparently lost this one too."

"It's not entirely lost." Matthews hand found mine again, running his thumb in circles on my cold skin.

I wished I could believe him.

The traffic thinned out the further away from the city we drove until we were alone on the gravel driveway leading up to Matthews' house. Home, he called it, but it wasn't really my home. I loved the house and everything about it, but I was undeserving of its embrace. The light and warmth inside was for Matthews and his daughter. What I deserved was a fate worse than Jace's.

I sighed at my self-pitying. It was like a broken record that played over and over again, and as with everything else that swirled inside my empty head, it was unhelpful.

"Can you maybe prepare something small to eat while I get Tilia?" Matthews asked. He had arranged for a nice lady in the neighborhood to look after her for a few hours, but Tilia had been less than pleased when we drove away.

"Sure." I needed something to do; I needed to feel useful, so despite my fear of cooking, I welcomed the task.

He offered me the keys to the house as the car stopped. It felt strange to receive them, but I knew that it was an empty gesture. Those weren't my keys. I had but temporary access. That realization didn't stop me from feeling every edge of the rugged key against my palm.

I left the car, forgetting to say even a simple thank you before he drove away.

Keys in hand, I remained on the driveway, feeling the cold creep up through the soles of my shoes while I stared at the house. It felt wrong to be alone in there, and the more I thought about it, the harder it became to take the necessary steps to reach the front door.

I didn't deserve this.

My phone gave off a soft sound in my pocket. Reluctantly, I fished it out, dreading a message from Sam or Jace.

- It's your home too

Matthews.

I had no idea how that man could read my thoughts. It was scary and comforting at the same time. Another fragile smile tugged at my lips, and I realized that scary or not, it was the words I desperately needed to hear.