In Honor by Jessi Kirby Page A

around my shoulders and pulled me gently into him. “See, it’s perfect, because then you need someone to cheer you up.” His arm around me felt good, and I smiled but didn’t say anything. Just let myself lean into him the slightest bit. He was warm and smelled like campfire smoke, and I rested my head on his shoulder the way you do with someone close to you.
    “Easy there, bro. She’s got a marine for a brother.”
    My breath caught in my throat, and I sat up lightning quick, despite the immediate sinking feeling in my chest. Wyatt laughed and raised his hands in surrender as Rusty walked over slowly from the dark to the now-dim circle of firelight. He was smiling a smile that put me on edge instantly. Don’t, I begged silently. Don’t say anything else.
    Casually, he kicked a pebble in front of him. “Yeah, if her brother saw some guy she’d just met with his arms around her, he’d put a boot in his ass.” He turned his eyes on me. “Ain’t that right, H?”
    I didn’t know what to say. The sympathy I’d felt for him a few minutes earlier went icy. I stared at him and hoped he could see it. Stop it.
    Wyatt spoke up. “No worries, man. We were just talking.”
    Rusty considered this, then sat down in the chair on the other side of Wyatt. Put a hand on his shoulder. “Good. Because her brother ain’t around anymore.”
    Hot, angry tears pooled at the corners of my eyes, and I sat, paralyzed. Wyatt looked over at me, confused. Rusty let go of him and sat back in his chair, shaking his head. “Nope. He ain’t around anymore, because he thought it’d be a good idea to sign up for the marines instead of playing football, and then he went and got himself blown up, probably for no reason at all.”
    “Rusty, stop .” I barely got it out. The anger in his voice had made my own shaky.
    He glanced at me, then back to the fire pit. “They put him in the ground yesterday, and now here we are.” He laughed bitterly. “What are we doing here again, Honor? Going to a concert ? The day after his funeral?”
    “Shut up, Rusty.” I stood and wiped my eyes, and now there was no controlling my voice. Tears spilled over, down my cheeks, and I spat my words at him. “Shut the hell up!”
    Wyatt pushed his chair back slowly and stood between us, looking from me to Rusty. “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He put his hands out and turned to me, confusion and worry all over his face. “That really true?” he asked, tentative, like he didn’t really want to know. “About your brother?”
    I bit my bottom lip and looked down at the ground, not wanting to answer. Because no matter how many times I’d said it to people in the last two weeks, people I knew, I hadn’t really believed it. Even yesterday, at the funeral, I’d felt almost like an actor in a movie or something. But standing here, with Rusty throwing it in my face in front of a stranger sent a pain through me that was impossible to ignore. This was beyond forgivable.
    A long moment passed without any of us speaking. A log popped, sending a tiny explosion of embers into the air. I leveled my eyes at Rusty and hoped he could feel how much I hated him right then. “It’s true. My brother’s dead.”
    “I’m sorry,” Wyatt said softly. He reached for my hand, but I moved it away.
    Rusty snorted. “Well, now. Looks like I ruined the mood.” He straightened up and looked over at Wyatt. “I’m sorry, man. She’s all yours.” Then he held out my own car keys to me. “Here you go, H. I’m guessin’ I’ll be sleeping under the stars tonight.”
    I smacked them out of his hand, into the dirt. “Screw you, Rusty.”
    He nodded like he deserved it, turned his back, and walked into the darkness, toward the road.
    Wyatt waited until we couldn’t see him anymore, then he picked up my keys, handed them to me gingerly. “Uh . . . you wanna stay a little while longer?”
    I shook my head, on the verge of tears again.
    “How ’bout I walk you back over to your car,