Page 99 of Pucked Together

Ryker must see my puzzled face because he finally lends a hand. "A trailer park, Izzy."

"Oh," I say with a nod, trying my best not to appear judgmental.

"Anyways, in our Prefab Home Village—"

"Trailer park," Ryker corrects him.

"Trailer Park," Rowan repeats. "We had this neighbor we called Two-buck Tommy. He lived next door. Weird kid with greasy hair and always smelled like clam chowder. He used to bet us to do the craziest shit."

"He'd throw rocks at our window at night and tell us to do stuff like put a scorpion in our pa's shoe," Ryker adds as he leans on the kitchen counter with his arms crossed, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Or that time he dared us to jump off our roof and into the inflatable pool between our houses," Rowan laughs. "I broke my ankle on that one. He paid a dollar to each of us if we both pulled it off. We always wondered where Two Buck got the dollar bills to pay us. Everyone we knew was broke."

"Turns out Tommy's mom was a hooker," Ryker interjects. "And his dad was a drug dealer that she worked for. Poor kid had nothing better to do than listen to his mom with clients day in and day out. So he bugged us with dares to keep himself entertained."

They both have small smiles on their faces that start to fade.

"So what happened?"

The food beeps in the microwave, and I watch as Ryker finds a plate to slide the heated food onto, grabs a fork from a drawer, and brings it over to me, pulling out the chair next to me and taking a seat as he continues.

"Well, we kept this whole song and dance up until we were teens. Two Buck was just a little older than Rowan. His dares kept getting more and more dangerous. I think the kid was just fucked up. He'd been smoking his dad's stash and skipping school. One day he offered to pay us a thousand dollars to set our stepdad's car on fire."

"Wait, your stepdad?"

"Our real dad had been hooked on the meth Two Buck's dad sold. He OD'd when we were little. Eight and Ten," Ryker says, pointing to himself and then to Rowan.

I look between the both of them. I don't think they've revisited this particular story together in a while. It shows in the solemn, unspoken exchanges between them.

"We hated our stepdad," Ryker says. "But he had a job, and he wasn't a meth head, so I guess that was good enough for our mom. Even though he cheated on her with Two Bucks’ mom, and she had to have known."

"Of course, she knew," Rowan says, shaking his head and finishing off his beer.

"So what happened? Did you take the dare?"

Ryker and Rowan look at each other again. Rowan speaks first. "We did."

I notice Ryker's hesitation to look my way.

"Ryker was underage. But he was a smart kid. I didn't want to see him throw his life away. I knew he could go so much further than I ever would," Rowan says, looking at his little brother.

Ryker runs a hand through his hair, "And you know if I could I'd take it all back. I'd throw the money back in Two Buck's face if it meant I'd get all those years back with you, Row."

"I know."

Realization dawns on me.

"Ryker was the one who set it on fire," I breathe out. "You took the fall," I say to Rowan.

He looks at Ryker, and I follow suit. "I let him,” he says. “But he was older than I was, and they wanted to charge him with attempted murder as an adult. The blaze spread into a small brush fire that swept through the park. Nobody was hurt. But it could’ve been so much worse."

"How old were you?"

"Eighteen," Rowan says.

He was so young. His entire life ahead of him.

"The court decided to lower my charges to aggravated assault and arson. I served sixteen years." He lifts his eyes to his brother and taps the table, pointing a finger at him, "And I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat if it meant that you got to live your life and get out of that dump for the both of us, Ryker."