I drew in a deep breath that was still wobbly with leftover adrenaline. But I believed him. It baffled me how much I did. And it made me wanna cry all over again, because Finn was the only other person in the world I believed like that. And when that soldier came and told me my brother was dead, I didn’t think anyone could make me feel like anything could be all right, ever. I sat up and swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to figure out a way to tell Rusty all this.
He held my eyes, and a question knit his brows together. “What?”
I looked into my lap. “Nothing. You just . . . you reminded me of Finn just then.” It sounded silly to say it out loud, but I went ahead anyway, eyes focused on my seat-belt buckle. “The way you made everything seem like . . . like it’s okay.” I smiled as best I could when I looked back up at him. “He was good at that, you know?” My hand went to his knee. “Anyway. You are too.” Rusty’s eyes flicked to my hand, and I took it away just as quickly as I’d set it there.
“Glad you think so.” He pulled his arm out from behind my shoulder and leaned back against the door, clearly separating that tiny previous moment from the present one. “But Finn was like that all the way through.” He looked at the ceiling, letting the thought linger a moment. “The rest of us—we just look that way sometimes.” He sighed and reached into his back pocket, then pulled out a small pewter flask. “Anyway.” He unscrewed the cap and held it out to me with a smile that was more sad than happy. “You thirsty?”
One sip of whatever he had in there was enough to make me wonder if the old man in the gas station was actually some sort of guardian angel. I washed the burn down with a long gulp of water from the jug and sat back against the seat. The thunder and lightning weren’t directly overhead anymore, but every few seconds the sky flashed in a different place, and I could hear the low rumble of the thunder. In between, the rain kept at it, a steady shower that blended into the background like static.
Rusty took up his post stretched out in the backseat again, and I did the same in the front, with my back leaned against the driver-side door and my legs across the seat. We sat there quiet, and the seriousness of the situation slowly settled over me.
“This might be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” I said finally.
Rusty took a swig from his flask and swallowed hard. “What? Banged up Pala?”
“No, I mean this whole trip. Going to the concert. Taking off. Missing orientation.” I looked at Rusty. “It’s selfish, isn’t it? Even if he did get me those tickets.” He didn’t answer, and I took that to mean he agreed.
I brought my eyes to the streaky window, not wanting to cry again, but awfully close. “I just wanted to do something for him, you know? Something big and crazy, like he would have done. And when he cracked that joke about telling Kyra Kelley about him, I just thought . . .” I shook my head at the ridiculousness of it. “I don’t know what I thought. I don’t even know what I’d tell her if I actually got a chance, or why she’d care. It was a crazy thing to think.” I laughed flatly. “Especially now that I got us stuck out here in a ditch and broke the one thing that did mean something to him. Stupid.”
Rusty pushed himself up against the opposite door so we were facing each other. “Runs in the family, then.” I just looked at him. “I mean, your brother did some stupid shit for you back in the day, is all.” Rusty took another swallow from his flask and held it out to me.
I shook my head and he sat back against the door, a slow smile on his face. “Best one was gettin’ you your prom dress when you went with that skinny little cowboy.”
“The red one? Gina got that for me.”
“No—Finn got it. I was with him. He drove our asses all the way to Odessa to get it. Twice. The second time, he brought that cowboy kid, too, and made him try it on.” I must’ve looked confused, because Rusty laughed. “He never told you that one, huh?”
“No. He made Steven try on my dress?”
Rusty sat up and leaned his arms on the front seat, ready to fill me in. “Shit,” he said, laughing. “I can’t believe he never told you.” He cleared his throat, but the smile didn’t move from his face. “It was all because you came home cryin’ about how you couldn’t find that dress anywhere and it was all so unfair and you hated living here—all that crap. Gina wasn’t havin’ it, and you came all undone about it, and so he called all over the place to see if anyone had the dress you wanted. And they had two of them. In Odessa. So he got me up early and we drove out there, and sure thing, they were there.” Rusty paused and smiled, and his story hung there like a surprise gift. It made me smile as he went on.
“Only . . . genius had no idea what size you were, couldn’t get ahold of you or Gina to ask, and the girl wouldn’t hold ’em. So, first we walked around the mall looking for someone your size to try ’em on, but nobody would do it. And then I made some crack about your little date, and Finn got all excited, and we drove all the way back to school and yanked ol’ Steve outta practice—”
“Why didn’t you guys just come get me?”
Rusty shook his head. “You know how he was. He had it in his head by then that it needed to be a surprise. Besides. You and Steve were built about the same back then, so . . .” I crossed my arms and tried not to smile, because it was kind of true. Although I would’ve hated Rusty for saying it then.