A kiss to tell ( jenlisa ) (GIP)

Part 4

L

I can still feel her fingers against mine. Her touch hasn't left me since last night. My mind wanders to what she would have said if I'd told her I wanted to stay.

The rumble from the engine turns to white noise as I think about all the ways I could take the pain away from her. I imagine lying in bed beside her and taking her how I've dreamed of for as long as I can remember. My grip tightens on the steering wheel and the breeze from the rolled-down window pauses as I slow to a stop at a red light.

The radio station being changed to something else grabs my attention and I have to clear my throat and adjust in my seat to play off what was going through my mind. Mashiho changes the station again, but he's not going to find what he needs by picking a different song. There's nothing in this world that's going to help take his mind off of the pain.

"You staying with me tonight?" I ask him. His dad kicked him out of the house again. Not that the kid did a damn thing wrong. He's sixteen and involved with the wrong crowd, namely me, but he never does anything wrong. Not since his mom got sick last year.

He flicks the radio off, choosing silence over the commercial on the last station.

"I don't know," he tells me solemnly and then falls back against the passenger seat, staring listlessly out the window. Chewing on his thumbnail, he avoids looking back at me.

Which is fine, because the fucker behind us yells at me to get going while honking his horn. The red light's turned green. One look in the rearview, catching the driver's gaze silences him. He sees who I am, and suddenly the pissed off expression on his face vanishes. I wait for a beat, then another as the assholes settles into his seat and averts his eyes, waiting for me to do whatever the fuck I want to do.

I'm careful as I step on the gas, and more careful with what I say next. "How's your mom doing?"

Even that simple question gets him worked up. Mashiho shakes his head but doesn't say anything. He tries but he's too choked up.

His mom keeps asking for him to help instead of his dad. It ranges from changing her position in bed and helping her go to the bathroom, to just being by her side to talk. His father doesn't like that though. He's a drunk and a deadbeat.

With five boys and her health deteriorating, I can only guess his mother is hoping that Mashiho will take care of the others when she's gone. He's the oldest. Hell knows his father won't.

"Let's talk about something else," he suggests as I turn down Peck Avenue. "Like where we're going?"

My lips kick up in a half smile at his response. He texted me earlier, asking me to pick him up, but didn't question where I was taking him. He asks so often now, almost every day. I guess he doesn't care where we go so long as he has somewhere to get away. He always goes home though. For his mother. For his brothers too.

"I want to check on someone," I tell him as I round the corner, passing over a speed bump and slowing down at the weathered stop sign that marks that we're close to our destination.

His brow furrows. I don't know if I've ever told him I want to check on someone before, but when I turn down Dixon Street and slow in front of Jennie's house, he gives me a shit-eating grin. As if I just told him his favorite joke.

"Like old times," he says with a rough laugh. Mashiho's my only friend and that's because I know who he is to his core. He's six years younger than me, but he's like family, the only family I have.

All he has are his brothers; he's told me that so many times. But it's always followed up with a pat on my back as he tells me I'm one of them. I have to admit, it's nice to feel wanted, and even nicer to feel like you're part of a family. Even if you know deep down that's not really true.