“So I’ll answer, and then I get to ask you something. How about that?”
A wary look flitted over his face before he smoothed out his expression, and nodding, he said, “Okay.”
Hmm. What kind of secrets are you hiding, my friend?
After getting comfortable, she picked up her water bottle and took a long, slow drink. “So Rhys and I, we met when we were five. Instant friends, you know? By our freshman year of high school, we were almost inseparable, but it wasn’t romantic. Not then.”
Geo drew his knee up and mirrored her pose, his elbow propped on the back of the couch, head resting on his fist.
“This one day after school, he was supposed to come over and help me with my math homework, but he was late.” Remembered frustration tightened her lips. “Seemed like he was always running late, and it pissed me off. Besides, I didn’t like some of the people he’d started hanging around with, and he was doing stupid shit like ditching class, that sort of thing.”
“Sounds like a typical freshman boy,” he commented, grinning.
She shot him a sour look. “Well, it pissed me off,” she said again. “While I was waiting for him to show, my brother came home early from work. When I asked why, Tyler said he’d just quit. It floored me, because he’d been working at that restaurant for years, and it was part of the condition of my parents paying for community college, that he have a job to pay for his car insurance and spending money.”
“And he’d just quit?” His voice was hushed, as if not to break her train of thought.
“Yeah. I asked him what he was gonna do, and he goes, ‘Who cares? Let’s go have a snowball fight!’”
“A snowball fight?”
“Indiana in January, there’s gonna be snow, Geo.”
“Ah. Right.”
“I didn’t want to, but something—I’ll never know what—made me say yes.” Memories washed over her, of crisp air, a backyard full of powdery snow, and Tyler’s cold-reddened cheeks and happy grin.
“We horsed around throwing snow at each other,” she said huskily, “and made snow angels, and then we went inside and Tyler fixed me some Mexican hot chocolate.”
Bowing her head, Lani squeezed her eyes shut, those last images of her brother alive swirling behind them. “It’s surreal, looking back now. He’d seemed down for months, not himself, and that afternoon it was the old Tyler again. What happened next didn’t—doesn’t, will never—make sense.”
Geo’s warm hand came to rest on her shoulder, but he didn’t say anything, which she appreciated. “Tyler didn’t touch his hot chocolate, just watched me drink mine. Suddenly he got up, kissed me on the top of my head and whispered, ‘See ya, lil sis.’ Then he went down into the basement where his room was, and shot himself.”
“Oh, Jesus.” Geo’s whisper was heartfelt. “Lani...”
“I was standing there in shock, wondering what I’d just heard, when Rhys burst in shouting. He pushed past me and ran into the basement, then almost immediately came flying back up. His face was—I’ll never forget—”
Geo squeezed her shoulder as she fought for control. “I’m sorry, Lani. No wonder you two are close.”
“We clung to each other, you know? For months I couldn’t even let him out of my sight. He’d sneak into my room every night because the nights were the worst, for both of us.”
“And eventually—”
“Yes. He was my first, I was his first, and because we didn’t know any better, we took all of that trauma, all of that clinginess, added sex to the mix and called it love.”
“I’m sure he really does love you,” Geo said gently. “Of course he does.”
“Well, he deserves to find out who he is without my codependent mess of a life dragging him down,” she said. “And I deserve more than pity masquerading as love.”
Too bad it’s taken us ten years to realize both those things, huh, Rhys?
Geo’s hand slid down her arm, squeezed once, then fell away to rest in his lap. She appreciated the steadiness of his gaze despite the tinge of discomfort she could see in his eyes.
“Thanks for listening,” she said at last. “I know it’s not an easy story to hear.”
“I know it’s not an easy story to tell. I’d, uh, love to give you a hug, but I wouldn’t want you to think it’s pity.”
With a cross between a laugh and a sob, she scooted closer. “Hey, if you’re offering pity-free hugs, I gladly accept.”
Geo opened his arms, and she went into them to nestle against his broad chest. He held her close, his heart a steady thump beneath her ear, the familiar male scent of spicy deodorant and fabric softener tickling her nose. She let out a quiet sigh.
“Do you have any siblings?”
“No.” His voice was a low rumble. “My dad got sick when I was still pretty young. They chose not to have any more.”
“How old were you when he died?”
“Eleven.”
She splayed her palm over his chest. “I’m sorry. Such a rough age to lose a parent.”
“Everyone kept telling me to be strong for my mom, that I was now the ‘man of the house.’” He winced, as if ashamed of the bitterness in his tone.
“So many times people forget that children need to grieve, too,” she whispered, her thumb moving in a slow circle. “They give all their support to the parent, or the spouse, while the children are told to be ‘strong.’”
The painful memories stabbed into her like a million tiny needles, of childish bewilderment and a desperate need for attention smashing up against an impenetrable wall of grief time and time again. She’d had Rhys to cling to, but who did Geo have?
“At eleven I didn’t have a clue how to be strong,” he went on roughly, “so I got angry instead, and rebellious. I was a fucking nightmare, to be honest, so it was a relief for both of us when she finally kicked me out at seventeen.”
“Do you ever talk to her?”
“Obligatory birthday and Christmas calls, mostly. We never had the chance to really get to know each other, so the only thing we have in common is my dad being sick, then my dad dying. It’s so much less painful not to talk at all.”
“Well, I was a different kind of nightmare after Tyler’s death,” she said. “Needy, bordering on self-destructive. My parents and I definitely have our own healing to do, so yeah, I know exactly where you’re coming from with your mom.”