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picks up the remote and starts clicking through the stations. “So Charlotte, you still planning on Portland State?”
    “Yep.” I can feel sweat beginning to gather above my lip as Jeremy looks over at me.
    “Good girl.” He lowers his voice, glancing toward the kitchen. “You know he’s been studying for his GED, right?”
    I smile. “I know.”
    Jeremy nods to himself and goes back to flipping through the stations. “You’re a positive influence on him,” he says. Then louder, “No idea how an idiot like him got a girl like you.”
    “Bite me, Jeremy,” Harlin says with a laugh as he comes back into the room, holding two cans of soda—one diet and one regular. I take the diet soda thankfully because anxiety is making my mouth dry. I just want to stay here. I don’t want to leave yet.
    “Where’s Henry?” I ask Jeremy. Henry is the oldest brother—nearly twenty-seven. He looks a lot like Harlin, only taller and with blue eyes. But Henry is the muscle around here. He works long hours and sets the rules. I sometimes wonder where Harlin would be without him. If he’d be on the street somewhere, anywhere to be away from his mother.
    Jeremy smacks the back of the remote to get it working again, and then points it at the TV. “Henry’s in his room, on the phone.”
    “Girl from the restaurant?” Harlin asks.
    “No. Mom,” Jeremy says quietly, looking over. Harlin shifts next to me, but doesn’t say anything. I lower my eyes and stare into my lap.
    When Harlin was sixteen, his father—a policeman—was killed on duty. It was shortly after they’d moved to Oregon, and his dad had been overseeing a drug bust at an abandoned house on the west side. Then someone pulled out a gun and shot him. He bled to death before the ambulance arrived, and the shooter was never found.
    Harlin doesn’t like to talk about it, but his mother does. All the time. She thinks by reliving it over and over that she’s paying homage or something. She even built a shrine to him in her bedroom. It’s completely unhealthy.
    But Harlin, he’s never dealt with his grief. Last year he started falling behind in his classes, getting in trouble for skipping. He completely withdrew. Everyone thought he was a slacker, but I knew he just missed his dad. And his mother was making it worse by not letting him forget, calling all the time, begging him to move back in. Eventually Harlin just dropped out of St. Vincent’s and got a job working at a garage on Alder Street a few afternoons a week. But now he’s studying for his GED and I think it’s kind of awesome. He’s kind of awesome.
    When the apartment stays silent too long, Jeremy exhales and puts the TV back on ESPN. Just then Henry stalks out of the bedroom, phone still in his hand.
    “Hey,” he says to us, pushing Harlin playfully on the side of the head. “Mom says to call her later.”
    “Okay,” he answers, taking his arm from around me. But I know he won’t.
    “You’d better,” Henry says. “Hi, Charlotte,” he adds before turning around.
    Jeremy sets the remote on the coffee table and stands up to stretch. “I’m going to run and pick up some Chinese food. You guys want?”
    I shake my head, knowing I won’t be able to stay long. My temples are already starting to throb.
    “Yeah,” Harlin says, fishing in his jeans pocket and pulling out a ten. He gives his order and I stare at the TV, not really able to hear it. My ears are plugged. I’m running out of time, but I don’t want Harlin to notice. I want to be with him.
    Jeremy takes the money and heads toward the back bedroom to get dressed.
    “Chinese? I’ll come with,” Henry calls, but then pauses to look at us, one eyebrow raised.
    Harlin laughs and puts his arm around me. “Don’t even say it,” he warns. “You’ll embarrass her.” But he always says it.
    “Charlotte,” Henry begins in a mock parental tone, “when two people love each other, they may have certain urges. Protection is an