Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

cypresses and tupelos, the scent of the moss stinging my nostrils, but quickly
calmed by the sand and salt following it.
Everyone slams their glasses down on the wooden table, the wind cooling
my scalp and making the umbrellas flap overhead.
I dig into my ice cream sundae as Aracely drops two platters of crawfish
onto the table and sits. She dated Iron, then Dallas, and now Army uses her to
help with Dex, even though she’s not his mother. We all know she’s just in
between brothers temporarily, so she just kind of sticks around as an
honorary member of the family to help out. And to be a pain in my ass. Like
the sister I never wanted.
Army fills his beer from the pitcher, and Dallas and Trace dig into the
seafood, pinching off the tails, sucking the heads, and grab the meat with
their teeth. In no time, the newspaper covering the table is littered with
decapitated crawdads, and I laugh as Army shows his son how to peel a shell.
I stare at Dex, my smile faltering. I’m going to miss a lot when I do leave,
won’t I? His first steps and first words. And after I’m gone, who will be next?
Trace, maybe? He’s searching for his niche away from our older brothers.
Dallas, most definitely. All he’s waiting for is someone to go first and
give him permission to seek out the things Macon tells us we’re selfish for
wanting.
Army will marry someone to give Dex a mom, and Iron may end up in
prison regardless of whether or not I stay.
But I look around the table at all the faces, the big smiles and bright eyes
and how they look like they have everything they need, right here, right now,
because we have each other.
It’s not enough for me. It’s never been enough. But I don’t want it to
change either. When I come back home, I want to know they’re here. All of
them. On our land. Safe and sound.
The key sits in the bag on the back of my chair, weighing heavy on my
mind.
I wish Macon was here. Not at home, avoiding us, too consumed with his
responsibilities to enjoy his family.
I don’t remember my father well. There are images. Feelings. That’s it. I
was too young, but when I think about what I do remember, it’s almost as if
he was another brother. He never disciplined me, yelled at me, or lost his
temper. Iron and Dallas took the lead on that when I made a mess or failed a
test or sassed back.