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told.
    “Because I don’t. I wanted children. I wanted marriage, too, but I feel like…I just…I just feel… stuck, son. And your goddamn father—”
    “Then don’t be stuck, Mom,” Wes insisted as he winced, taking her hand. “You know Abel and I have your back. Always. We’d still love you if you ended things with Dad. Nothing would change.” Fuck. Only in their bizarro universe did kids explain to parents why divorce was better for everybody.
    “But I’m stuck either way, Wes. At least here, I know what I’m stuck with.”
    He scoffed, almost not believing what he was hearing. Told you, Abel, this has always been a little selfish. It was worth being unhappy because at least she knew what kind of unhappiness she was getting? Divorce would mean choosing an unknown situation and she couldn’t risk that? What the hell? Bile rushed up into his throat, all fiery and bitter, a lot like he was feeling right now.
    “…Your fucking father…”
    Wes clenched his jaw until his teeth hurt as frustration and sadness curled through his stomach. In a whisper, he said, “Mom—”
    “…Stuck with your—”
    “Mom! You should go back to bed. Please?” he said, raising his voice, and it snapped her out of whatever angry trance she had been in. She took his hand when he offered it, and with her leaning against him, he walked her to the guest bedroom. As soon as he shut the door, a bleary-eyed Abel was at his side on his way back to his room from the bathroom.
    “Mom is having one of those nights. I’m going out for a little bit,” Wes said before his brother could ask. He slipped into his room and changed clothes in his closet, jumping into a pair of dark jeans and a black polo shirt. He needed air and alcohol. He snatched his keys off the kitchen counter.
    “Wesley,” Abel called after him, “You can’t take on their crap too much, you know. You just can’t.”
    Yeah, he shouldn’t have been shouldering their problems. Beau and Sylvia Elliott had probably been harboring spite for one another long before that second pink line appeared on her pregnancy test. And he agreed with his mom. He did have a pretty great life and it should’ve outweighed everything else, but Wes still turned and shrugged at his brother when he reached the front door. Because he agreed with his mom about something else, too.
    It felt too late to escape.
     
     

Chapter 2 Vice (noun) \vīs\ moral depravity or corruption
    He ended up at Vices , maybe because he was a regular or maybe because he hoped Lana would show up by miracle of his dirty thoughts about her, and they could get to know each other. Either way, the distraction would be enough to clear his head for an hour or two. Wes sat at the bar in front of his favorite bartender, Susan, the one who always made his drinks just right, and ordered a vodka cranberry before swinging around to scan the crowd. Vices was lively; it was just after midnight. A few passing guys stopped to chat with him, and he took a picture with a surfing fan. Some women were dancing to a pop-country track on the jukebox, and there was the constant thwack of pool balls colliding in one of the rooms adjacent the main hall.
                  “I never see you here on a Saturday night,” Susan said.
                  “And I shouldn’t be,” Wes replied, swinging back around. “But my parents are visiting. My parents are visiting.”
                  Susan gave him a knowing look and a sympathetic smile. “Your shots are on the house tonight, kid.”
                  “You’re lucky you’re married, Sues,” Wes said with a wink.
                  “But I’m not, so what does that get me?” Wes watched two bangle-covered arms thread through his on either side and curl around his chest. Kiera. A woman he had hooked up with pretty routinely in the past, but things had fizzled back to just friendship a while ago. He wasn’t really looking to drown