Future Harlow didn't have a hard time convincing Mom that I came home from Liah's in the middle of the night because of stomach cramps. Mom knew that when I didn't feel great, the only place I wanted to be was in my own bed.

Grayson wasn't buying it, though. As soon as Mom left to get brunch with her girls, my brother barged into my room like it was his. I was packaging my latest nail orders. My desk was covered in gold bubble mailers, business and thank you cards, and complementary nail care kits.

Harlow's Nails might've been a small business, but my patience for my brother was even smaller.

"Go away." I didn't bother looking up, even as he came in and sat on my bed.

"Where were you last night?"

I made a show of stacking my thank you cards, tapping them on the desk so they'd all fall in line before I put them back in the storage container for safe keeping. Then I moved on to the business cards.

"I know you weren't at Liah's."

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I picked up my phone, setting a reminder to order more business cards. My brother didn't move. He was as good at enduring the silent treatment as I was at giving them. Our stubbornness was genetic.

We could be at this for days on end. But what I did last night was my business. He didn't need to know the details. He'd probably use it as a reason to ban me from ever leaving the house again.

Once I put all my packaging supplies back into their storage bins, I turned to my brother, ready to be a smartass. But I stopped. My mind went back to last night, to Corey's confession.

Knowing your best friend hooked up with your crush couldn't have been easy. I didn't have it in me to add on to his pain. But I wasn't telling about last night. Especially not the fact that I was with Corey.

Instead, I went in a completely different direction. "Do you still think about our dad?"

Gray looked taken aback. "Why are you bringing him up?"

I picked at a loose thread on my shirt. "Something happened recently that made me think of him." I thought back to Maverick and the pills.

His eyes narrowed. "Like what?"

"Nothing!" Of course his mind would jump to the worst possible thing. And then, because shutting up seemed to be physically impossible for me, I said, "He called me."

Forcing those words out, it felt like all the air inside me went with them. I'd never told anyone. Not Mom. Not Liah. No one. That phone call stayed between me and my dad. I was perfectly content taking that secret to my grave, but with constant reminders lately, it wanted to be let out.

Gray didn't say anything and I didn't look up for his reaction. My eyes stayed trained on the blue thread unraveling the hem of my shirt.

"Who? Dad?"

"Yeah, before he..."

More silence. I looked up then. My brother focused on a spot just above my head.

I wasn't close to our dad. I didn't think Gray was either. The day Mom got the call from our grandma, Gray disappeared. It hit him harder than I expected it to. We never talked about it, but I always wondered why. Growing up, I assumed we felt the same way about him.

Our dad was an occasional drunken phone call. A "Hey, kiddo," on holidays when we stopped by to see grandma. He was always on his way out while grandma slipped her wallet back in her purse.

If he said more than two words to you, it meant he needed money. Or he wasn't sober.

In elementary school, when we did crafts for father's day, Gray and I made them for Mom. I thought we viewed our dad the same way--a stranger. Practically non-existent. Maybe that wasn't the case.

 "Why--What did he want?" His voice was thick with emotion.

My chest tightened. Did he have a relationship with our dad that I didn't know about? If he did, what would he think of me after I tell him what happened during that call?

Gray turned to me then. His mask of indifference faltered. "What did he say?"

"The usual."

The few conversations with my dad had gone one way. Him, drunk or high or both, telling me how he wished he was a better father. How as soon as he got his life together, he'd buy a house and Gray and I would have our own rooms. He'd crack a few jokes about me hanging up posters of different celebrities and I'd fake laugh because I never knew who he was talking about. He'd ramble a bit about nothing and then hang up.

The first time he told me those lies, I believed him. I told Mom and Gray and Liah that I was going to live with my daddy. Mom would smile and nod. Gray was the only one who tried to tell me the truth, but I was as stubborn at seven as I am at seventeen. Eventually, I caught on to his routine.

Now, as I witnessed the pain in my brother's eyes, I wondered if he didn't accept our dad's situation as easily as I thought he did. Was he in contact with him before? Would he hate me if I told him the last words I ever muttered to our father?

"Why didn't you ever say anything?"

I wrapped the thread so tightly around my finger, the tip turned white.

"Because I was being my usual self." The lump in my throat choked me. "He was talking about how he wanted to be better. He said he was serious that time. And I--I laughed. Told him to delete my number if he was only ever gonna use it when he got high and remembered he had a family he abandoned."

Six hours after that phone call, Mom got a call of her own. Gray left without a word, just a look in his eyes like he wanted to punch something or someone. Mom held it together as best she could, asking me how I felt and if I wanted to talk. I could tell she was barely holding on. Yeah, he wasn't that great of a guy, but my parents were in love at one point. It couldn't have been easy for her.

I decided then to keep the phone call with my dad to myself. Mom and Grayson had a deeper relationship with him than I did. The tears I shed that day weren't for him, but for my mom and brother. They were in pain and I couldn't help feeling responsible for it. Maybe if I was a little nicer to him, he'd still be around.

Warm tears rolled down my cheeks. Gray hadn't said a word or made a move since I started talking. All I could think was that he hated me. But when I looked up at him, I noticed his eyes were wet, too. I hadn't seen my brother shed a single tear in the year since our dad died.

The guilt made my stomach churn. "I'm sorry."

"What?"

"If I didn't yell at him, he wouldn't have--"

"You can't be serious. He had a problem. He was sick."

I looked up at him. "But--"

"But nothing. He made some bad decisions and paid the price for it. That had nothing to do with you." He grabbed some tissues from the box on my nightstand, handing them to me. "Why didn't you say anything about the phone call before?"

I wiped my face. "You were already mad at me. I didn't want to make it worse."

His brow creased, genuinely confused. "You thought I was mad at you?"

"Aren't you? The only time we talk anymore is when you're yelling at me."

"That's not true."

I laughed, dryly. "The only reason we're having the conversation right now is because you came in here to parent me. I thought we were past it, but then I mentioned going on a date and you went right back into dad mode."

"Dad mode?" I hardness settled over his features, his defenses going up.

"Yeah. When you act like you're so much wiser because you're older," I told him. "You tell me who I can't talk to, where I can't go. You even had Corey watching me."

"I'm trying to keep you out of trouble."

"You're keeping me from doing anything!" I didn't mean to yell, but it was the truth. "Guys at school are still afraid to talk to me because of you."

"Good."

I rolled my eyes. It was always one step forward, two steps back with him. "This is what I'm talking about. One second we're on common ground and the next you act like you're above me."

"You don't need a boyfriend in high school."

"How many girlfriends have you had?" I cut my eyes at him, waiting for an answer.

"That's not the point. I'm trying to protect you."

Talking to him was getting me nowhere. I walked to the door, holding it open. "You can go now."

"Harlow."

"Get out of my room, Grayson!"

He walked over, but didn't cross the threshold. "You really think all I do is tell you what to do?"

"Can you recall a conversation where you didn't?" I challenged.

He glanced at the floor, scratching his ear. "Okay. Let's end it right here."

"Not interested."

"No, I'm serious," he insisted. "You're right. I can be a little--"

"Controlling."

"Overly concerned," he said pointedly. "I'll ease up if you unblock my number on your phone and, you know, stop blocking my number on your phone."

"If you didn't annoy me, you wouldn't get blocked."

His eyes narrowed. "Yes or no?"

This probably wouldn't last long, but I wanted my brother back. Even if for a short time. I picked up my phone from the desk and unblocked him. He took out his own phone, thumbs tapping the screen. My phone vibrated.

Mario?

I looked up at Grayson, who watched me expectantly. There was still a lot we had to talk about. Like why he thought he had to protect me from my male classmates. But for now, Mario would do.