Shane shook his head and turned toward his window. “No.”
If I was Carter, I would have patted him on the shoulder and kissed his forehead while telling him it was okay. But I wasn’t him, and I felt myself floundering for words. In the courtroom, I had a way with people; outside of those four walls, my tongue always betrayed me. “I can’t have you doing this, Shane. These are people I work with every week.”
Not that Judge Tamaki knew who I was. He was one of the judges I hadn’t dealt with much.
Shane stayed silent, and frustration nipped at me.
“You should have called right away. I would have helped you choose a lawyer. Someone who I knew would have gotten you out of most of that. Darian is a good guy, but he’s swamped with cases, and you could have had better.”
“Does it matter?” Shane curled in on himself, bringing his knees against his chest on the car seat. He was so tall I was surprised he could manage to bend himself up like that. “I got off, didn’t I? More or less.”
He flinched when I smacked my hand against the steering wheel. “Do you realize what this means for you? This will be on your record. You’re over eighteen. Every job you apply for will know, at least until we’re able to get your record expunged. That’s going to take a while. You’re going to have to go to those DDP classes, and you’re going to have to do everything they tell you. I won’t let you ruin your life. I promised Carter I’d protect you.” My gut clenched low. It had only been a few months and I’d failed on my promise already.
“West, baby.” Carter reached for me with his thin arms, and I grabbed his hand, kissing the back of it.
“I’m right here, sweetheart,” I whispered, fighting back tears. The wetness settled in my eyes, though, and I tried to blink it away. “I’m right here.”
He could barely speak, too weak and fatigued to do much of anything, really. He didn’t look like my Carter, with his brilliant smile, full pink cheeks, and vibrant blue eyes that reminded me of the sky during a spring day. The cancer had made him thin and fragile, and sometimes I was too scared to touch him.
“Prom—promise me.”
“Anything.” I didn’t squeeze his bony fingers too hard.
“Promise me. Shane. Look after… after him.” He tried to smile, gave a valiant effort, but then his shoulders slumped, and he shifted the face mask for his oxygen back onto his nose because he couldn’t breathe.
“I promise.”
Fuck. Fuck! Why out of everyone in the world did cancer take my Carter? He’d never hurt a fly in his life.
“I don’t care.” Shane’s voice startled me out of my memory, and I focused on him.
“You don’t care about what?”
“I don’t care if I have a criminal record. I don’t care.” Shane’s jaw clenched and he looked at me, a storm brewing in those dark liquid eyes of his. Even though they were fully brothers, Shane and Carter didn’t look like each other. Carter was light, whereas Shane was dark. Carter’s blond hair clashed with Shane’s black, and Carter had taken after his father, with their Irish heritage mixed in with the Sicilian, over their mother’s Italian background. But while they were different in appearance, Carter and Shane were alike in other ways. Both were kind, considerate, and smart. It didn’t matter that there was a twelve-year gap between them, they acted like twins, as close as two brothers could be.
I’d always been jealous of their relationship. I had a brother too, but when I came out, he’d abandoned me along with my parents. Things weren’t dramatic, like when Shane was kicked out of his home, we simply drifted apart because my family didn’t seem to be able to relate to me anymore. Loneliness was a feeling I grew used to, until I met Carter. He’d come into my world like an explosion of fireworks, lighting up my life in a way I didn’t think possible. He gave me a family. Even now, after his death, I still had Shane. Although, right this moment, I could feel him slipping away too.
“Carter would want you to care about your future.”
Shane tensed. I hated saying Carter’s name aloud because this always happened when I did. Shane would clam up and I got nothing out of him.
“Can you imagine if he was here, what he’d say to you, Shane?” I tried again. Somehow, I felt like I was putting my foot in my mouth the more I talked. I turned the car into our driveway and shut off the ignition. Shane didn’t jump out like I expected. He stayed deadly still, his gaze burning a hole into the worn dashboard of my old Toyota. “Shane?”
“He’s not here, though, is he? He’s gone.” Shane’s small voice made my gut churn. He sounded defeated, and I empathized.
“Some people say that your loved ones aren’t ever truly gone.”
“Bullshit.” Shane turned his angry eyes on me. “You don’t believe in that crap, West.”
I sucked in a deep breath and shook my head. “I don’t believe in heaven, but I believe in the afterlife. I figure Carter’s hanging around to make sure you’re okay.”
Shane made a noise of disbelief and glared. “I’m not a kid, you don’t have to tell me that stuff to make me feel better. He’s dead, that’s all there is to it. Not here. Nada. Gone.” He opened the door then and almost fell trying to get out too fast. He slammed the door shut so roughly that I winced for my poor old car.
Following him out, I brought my briefcase along and made sure to lock the car on the way. In a neighborhood like ours, I needed to. By the time I got inside our small, single-story house, he’d already made it to his room, slamming that door as well. No, he definitely wasn’t a child, but he certainly acted like one sometimes. Yet, I didn’t blame him. I wanted to slam doors too, just like I wanted to scream and yell and ask someone why the hell it had to be Carter.
I dropped my briefcase on the floor and rubbed my forehead. This wasn’t how I expected today to go. The partner I reported to at the firm, Anna, understood. She always did. She’d lost a sister to breast cancer, and when it came to family, I couldn’t have had a more forgiving boss. The truth was, though, I’d rather be at work, fighting cases for people who I knew weren’t innocent, but also didn’t have the money to pay for an expensive lawyer. At least there I’d be in my element, weaving words into amazing bullshit stories that had the jury eating out of my hands.
“Fuck.” I headed into the kitchen, only big enough to have an ugly old maroon fridge, a few cabinets, and one sink. The walls were a horrendous yellow, the exact color of a stained urinal, paint peeling near the ceiling, and the room was made worse by horrible psychedelic floor tiles that reminded me of something out of an Austin Powers movie. Seventies inspired, and I hated it, but it was all we could afford.
Switching on the coffee maker, I brewed two hot cups, and by the time I’d turned around and set them on the table, Shane hovered in the doorway.
“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low and tight. He never apologized unless he meant it.
“I know.” I nudged a cup on the table. “With cream, just how you like it.”
He smiled then, and my heart ached in my chest. “Thanks.” He took a seat at the table and cupped his hands around the mug. Heaving a sigh, Shane grabbed the teaspoon sticking out of the brew and mixed the coffee slowly.