That morning, I'd looked down at him, face pale and hollow, lips chapped and white and realized for the first time in my brief nine years, that my father was a loser. He wasn't the cut-up he pretended to be when he and Mom drank during the Falcons games, laughing and teasing each other when the dirty birds won. He wasn't the guy that would stay sober for a couple of weeks, meeting me and Nat at the bus stop, fixing our dinners when Mom worked late or took a night class. He was the guy who'd passed out on the porch with a brand-new Bulls cap twenty feet away from him near the garbage can. He was the asshole who made my mother cry when she thought we were asleep.
More than anything, I was petrified of turning into him.
It was the main reason I'd kept to myself, had stayed clear of any drama that might contribute in any way in making me more like my father.
"You gonna sleep all day?" Nat called, pulling me from my thoughts and what remained of my sleep and damn Sookie and her drama that locked me down each night. There had been the boy again, Dempsey, and the asshole who'd tried attacking her. It felt like metal had lodged itself in my chest when I thought of that little girl-something about her made me rage with anger, something made me sick with guilt. I couldn't place her, couldn't do more than blink away her face, the fear she'd felt and the sweetness, how that boy had made her feel when he … I was losing it. I was losing my damn mind.
The scent of bacon and pancakes hung in the air, making my mouth water and I got up from the sofa, a little disoriented by the thick blanket on the floor and the pillow on the other end of the room.
"Bad dream last night?" Nat asked, pouring a mug of coffee for me as I flopped onto the stool in front of the island. I shrugged and my sister shook her head. "You were fussing all night. Woke me up twice."
She'd had brought dark roast with her, and the smell, the taste, reminded me of milk coffee my mom let me make when I was ten and wanted to drink with her before she left for work. It made me feel grown to watch her move around the kitchen, getting ready, packing her lunch and complaining about all the things she'd never finish up before she had to leave for her office. Now that coffee was an elixir I needed it to be more human and damn sure more awake.
"You wanna talk about the dream?" Nat leaned on the island, pushed a plate in front of me and I dove in, shaking my head as I shoveled a forkful of pancake in my mouth so I couldn't talk. "You're such an ass sometimes, Nash." I looked up at her, eyes squinting to glare at her, but she only smiled back, laughing at me because she knew I was aware I could never get her to back off with some punk ass frown. "Boy please. Put away the grump face and tell me about the dream."
I swallowed, grabbing a paper towel from the roll to clean the syrup from my face. "Nothing to tell really. It's stress. I'm under a deadline and distracted. That's all it is."
"Didn't sound like … "
"Jesus, Nat, I'm fine." I didn't mean to snap at her, or make her my voice go all loud and bitchy. By the rigid lines along her mouth I got the feeling Natalie didn't appreciate my tone no matter if I meant it or not. "I'm sorry … it's just, that girl?"
"The one you wanted to make jealous?" She smiled when I shook my head. "What about her?"
"She's … the distraction and it's messing with me bad. It's a damn fog I can't clear away."
Nat polished off her coffee staring out the stretch of windows to my right, her long red nails tapping against the handle. It took her a minute to gather her thoughts, form an opinion about how much of a mess I was at the moment, but then she rinsed her cup and leaned against the sink, watching me eat, staring hard as though she needed to consider her words carefully before dishing them out.
"Maybe that's what you need, Nash."
"A distraction?"
Natalie shook her head, resting on her palms in front of me. "This girl. From the way your eyes go all bright and round when you talk about her, and how you looked at her last night, how hurt she seemed when she saw me, I don't think she's the fog."
"What the hell else could she be?"
Nat's smile came back just then, and it loosened the tension that had set up inside my shoulders and chest since I saw Willow with that guy the night before. It was kind of uncanny how she could do that for me, but I loved her for it. "Girl like that, she isn't anyone's fog, Nash. She's the light that clears all the bad away. You might want to admit that before she realizes what a mess you are."