Page 265 of Silver Sweet

“How long will that be?” I ask.

He shrugs.

Great. Sounds like a failproof plan. And I’m leaving him. He’s leaving me. We’re going on separate tours for months. How can I trust he even goes back on his meds?

He looks to his left and sees the sausage pizza splatted on the floor. His eyes hit mine in another surge of emotion. “You brought me pizza?”

“I wasn’t going to let you starve.”

He cries again, pressing his fingers to his eyes. “I hate being a fucking burden?—”

“You’re not, Birdie?—”

“Just go be with your little boyfriend. Get out of this hot box, man.” He reaches over and starts scooping the pizza back on the plate. He rises to his feet, and I follow him.

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You’re going to have to,” Birdie tells me. “Because you wear your emotions on your fucking face. Tom is going to ask what happened. And I will push you into the ocean if you lie to him.” He grinds his teeth, his voice tight as he tries not to cry again. “So you have to go tell him you caught your brother burning himself—and I would rather be buried alive than be around for that conversation.”

I love my brother. I love him somuch. I don’t know what to do.

“Can I hug you at least?” I ask him.

“No,” he tells me. “You are disgustingly sweaty, man.” I’m already going in for a hug anyway, gripping the back of his skull.

He lets out a deep exhale against my chest. “I’ll be with Steffi. Please try not to fucking worry.”

He’s really asking for the impossible.

Birdie was right.I couldn’t hide the emotion on my face, even if I tried. Tom immediately questioned what was wrong like I’d been plowed down by a steamroller. We walked a few yards from our bus to the edge of the peninsula, beside a park bench and an oak tree.

The full moon casts enough light to see in the darkness. Water laps at the shoreline. The heat, surprisingly, I’ve gotten used to.

It barely fazes me now.

Tom’s chest caves. “Fuck, dude.” His hands splay on his head. “He’s been burning himself since he was fifteen?”

“Off and on.Yeah.” I lean back up against the oak tree, arms crossed stiffly. “I caught him the first time in our bedroom. But I’m telling you,thisis different. He’s always held onto the hope thatone dayhe could focus solely on rock music. One day he’d make our parents proud enough that they’d stop pushing him toward the cello.” My face breaks in pain. “Pretty sure that hope evaporated. I don’t know how he pulls himself up this time. I don’t know if he even wants to.”

Tom edges closer, and the oak tree blocks anyone near the tour buses from seeing us together. Only the ocean has eyes on us. His gaze lassos me in and makes it easy to talk.

I continue, “And we’re going on different tours in a month. I won’t know if he’s taking his meds, burning himself in a bathroom, or roadkill on the side of the fucking highway—and that’s the hardest part. I don’t know how to beokaywith not knowing.”

Tom nods over and over. His eyes reddening. “I know. I get that. Why do you think I keep going home every Wednesday?”

I wipe at my eyes. “The tea parties, of course.”

“Those, yeah.” His smile is soft and slanted. He reaches up to wipe away the tear streaks on my jaw. “Dude, I’m terrified my brother will just vanish again. I need eyes on him every week. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s me knowing I can’t handle it if he goes. So I need to be the reason he stays.” Tom plants his hands on my bare chest, his fingers brushing over the tattooed rose, the inky-bloomed petals. “I love how much you care about yourbrother. Like I love that about yousomuch it honestly scares me that I found someone like you.”

I sniff hard, my nose running now.

Tom adds, “And he’s all you’ve got, Phoenix. There aren’t three more brothers waiting in the wings for him.”

That cracks open something vulnerable in my chest. My throat swells so badly it hurts to talk now. I manage some words. “I don’t know what to do.”

Tom has no hesitation. No confliction. Like there’s already a clear solution in his head.

“We’re going to take a hiatus?—”