Kara "Wait. Back the hell up." I smashed the phone against my ear. "Did I hear you say, you hit someone's motorcycle?" There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, before I heard Dylan's quiet reply. "Yes." I gripped the phone hard and swallowed the panic threatening to climb up my chest. "Which one were you riding?" This time the moment of silence was longer. "Bertha," he answered. I snapped my eyes closed. Bertha was the ancient GMC truck rotting away in the garage's lot for years. Dylan had a weakness for classic trucks. He had begged my dad to let him drive the one we had in the lot—so he could show off to his friends—but it needed a government safety and a lot of work done to it before it was even safe to drive. Hell, it needed a blessing from Jesus to make it safe to drive. And more importantly, it wasn't insured. I felt a headache trying to worm its way at the base of my neck. The idiot must have sneaked out with it. "I'm going to kill you," I hissed. My dad was tapped out for cash for buying new equipment for the shop. Dylan was still in high school and dad was still training him in the garage. I thought of the money I had worked so hard to save up sitting in my bank account. All those times I had to wake up at four in the morning to do my shifts at the coffee shop. The backbreaking twelve-hour shifts at the personal care home. The odd jobs I had to take on the side, so I could add all that income to my savings. It was supposed to pay for my tuition fee for next semester. Now it was going to pay for my brother's stupidity. I thought of the constant lecture my uncle pompously spouted at me every chance he got about me having a direction in life and finishing my studies. How could I when every time I take a step forward, something always slaps me in the face reminding me it was all one big fat joke? Tears threatened to spill, but I held them off. Steel baby. I'm made of steel. "Tell me what happened," I said. "If you lie to me, I'll cut off your dick. So help me God." "Okay, okay." I could hear the whine in his voice, and the underlying fear in it. Dylan was easily scared. Ever since we were kids, it was the trace of fear I heard in his voice, that same fear glittering in his eyes, that always, always, got to me. And never failed to soften me up, raised my protective instincts. It was one of my many weaknesses to want to protect him and bail him out of whatever trouble he was in, or share that trouble with him. Whenever Dylan had nightmares as a kid, he would always call out for me. When he got bullied by the kids at school, he'd come home crying to me. Of course, I'd beat them up for him—and usually dragged Damon as my sidekick. When my brother got teased at school for wearing the same clothes over again or for wearing the hand-me-downs of the brothers and cousins of his classmates, I'd persuaded my grandma to ask her dressmaker friend to teach me how to cut and sew, so that I could redesign the hand-me-downs. I wasn't going to win an award for best dressmaker of the year and it didn't stop the teasing completely, but it lessened. I raised Dylan as much as my dad did. I never had a mother, but I learned how to be one out of necessity. "After I tried to collect the money from Big Tony—" "That Giganotosaurus said you owe him money," I said. "It was a stupid bet. We were joking around. I had no idea he was serious about it." The headache had spread to my temples. "Tell me about the motorcycle." "Big Tony threatened to beat me up if I didn't pay him," he said carefully. I knew this already. It was why I drove to the customer's place to collect his bill this morning. "I was freaking out when I reversed the truck from his driveway. I didn't know I reversed that far and veered off. I never even saw the motorcycle. It was an accident," he whined. "You idiot!" I pressed my finger to my eyes, sighed. Opening the medicine cabinet, I grabbed the bottle of aspirin, shook two in my mouth, and drank from the tap. "Did you damage it?" "It was only a couple of scratches, I think—" "You think? I need you to gather all your working brain cells right now—those that aren't infected by your stupidity." "I was in a hurry! I didn't get the time to inspect it. I got out of the car and lifted it back up. Maybe I didn't damage it after all. I mean it stood well enough. What do you think?" "What do I think? You little shit. Dad told you not to drive Bertha!" "I know. I'm sorry!" he wailed. "You're a spoiled kid is what you are. Don't you dare tell dad about this. He's already got so much on his plate without you adding to it." "What if someone saw me? My life is over. What if someone had taken a video on their phone and uploaded it online? What if I was in the news tomorrow? Should I just come clean to the owner?" "Calm your tits. Let me think." I placed my hand on my neck, mulling it over. "So you're saying there might be a chance you didn't damage it at all." "I... maybe." I heard the hope in his voice. Maybe in mine too. "You think someone saw you?" "I don't know, Kar..." "Listen. I'm going to drive by that house. You better start praying on your knees right now that motorcycle isn't a wreck and is sitting in the driveway or I will sell your organs to pay for it." He sighed. "Do you want me to come with you?" "No. Besides, I'm going to stop by your friend's house and try to collect his bill. If he doesn't pay this time, I'm calling the cops." "Aw, Kar. Don't be like that." "Don't you aw Kar me. You're lower than a worm right now." "What if his motorcycle is not in the driveway? What if I damaged it? What if he has a camera on his front porch and recorded everything? He'd see my license plate. My face. My gawsh." Judging from the tone of his voice, he'd be crying in a minute. I sighed. "What if you started sprouting wings out of your ass and flew to outer space? Man up." And because I knew he was seriously freaking out, I softened my voice. "Look, Dyl, I'll take care of it and if there's more to it, I'll let you know. For now, I need you to go home and just... don't touch anything. You got that?" "I got it. Thanks, Kar." His voice broke. "Thanks."