“I haven’t been able to sleep since the other night,” I confess and my gaze flickers from the glass to his eyes. My nail taps on the glass again and again and the small tinkling persuades me to continue. “I had a rough time for a while, but I was doing really well until I saw you.” I don’t glance up to see how he reacts; I’m merely grateful the words are finally coming to me. “When you didn’t even bother to look at me, much less talk to me …” I swallow thickly and then throw back more of the beer.
“It was a shock to see you.” Daniel says the words as if he’s testing them on his tongue. Like they aren’t the truth, although I’m sure they are. I look into his eyes as he says, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“What did you mean then?” I ask him without wasting a second.
He hesitates again, careful to say just what he wants. “I didn’t know what to say, so I left.”
“That seems reasonable.” Or at least that seems like the version of Daniel I remember. I take another sip of beer before I say, “It hurt though.”
“I already said I was sorry.” His words are short, harsh even, but they don’t faze me.
“I wasn’t looking for an apology. I only wanted you to know how you make me feel.”
He responds quickly this time, still looking over my expression as if he’s not sure what to make of it. “And how do I make you feel now?”
I swear his breathing comes in heavier, and it makes mine do the same. “Like I have someone to talk to.”
That gets a huff of a laugh from him. A disbelieving one. “I’m sure you have better options for that.”
I shake my head and answer before taking another sip, “You’d be wrong then.”
It’s never felt pathetic before. The fact is I don’t talk to many people and the one friend I have is thousands of miles away. But admitting that to him and seeing the trace of the grin fall on his lips makes it feel slightly pitiful.
I muster a small smile although it’s weak, and time grows between us. The seconds tick by and I know I’m losing him, but I can’t voice any of the things I’m feeling.
“It’s been a while,” he says and I nod my head as I answer, “Since the funeral.”
I don’t think I’ve ever said it out loud and it’s the first mention of Tyler between us. The air turns tense but not in a way that’s uncomfortable. At least not for me. I even have the courage to look back at him. I can see hints of Tyler in Daniel. But Tyler was so young and he looked it. Still, there are small things.
“You remind me of him, you know?” All while I speak, Daniel stares at my lips. He doesn’t hide the fact in the least. I think he wants me to know. I swallow and his gaze moves to my throat, then he leans in just slightly before correcting himself. The hot air is tense and as he finally looks me in the eyes again, the noise of the bar disappears from the pure intensity of his stare.
“You do the same for me, I think.”
“You think?” I ask him to clarify.
“You bring back certain things,” he says icily, so cold it sends a chill down my spine.
My shoulders are tight as I straighten myself in the seat, again looking into the glass of beer that’s nearly gone as if it can save me. Or as if I can drown in it.
It’s only the sound of him standing up that makes me look back toward him. “Are you leaving?” I ask him like an idiot and then feel like it.
He only nods and I’m sure he’s going to walk off, but instead he steps closer to me. He shoves a piece of paper in front of me onto the bar and then grips the barstool I’m sitting on with both of his hands.
He’s so close I can feel his heat as he whispers to me, “I’ll see you soon, Addison.”
Chapter Eight
Daniel
FIVE YEARS AGO
The wind howls as it whips past us. We’re all dressed in black suits, but the shoes we spent all last night shining are buried beneath the pure white snow. The ice melts and seeps between the seams, letting the freezing cold sink into what was once warm. It’s fitting as we stare at the upturned dirt in front of us.
We’re the last ones here. We stopped on our way back from the dinner since the sun has yet to set, and there’s still a bit of light left.
The sky beyond us is blurred and the air brutally cold, the kind that makes my lungs hurt each time I try to breathe.
One of my brothers cries. It’s a whimper at first but I don’t move to see who’s the weakest of us. My muscles coil at the thought, hating how I’ve judged. Hating how I view strength. I’m pathetic. I’m the weak one.
Jase, the farthest from me, sniffles as his shoulders crumple and then he covers his face.
He was the closest to Tyler but now he’s the baby, taking Tyler’s place. The air turns cruel, biting at the back of my neck with a harsh chill as his cries come to a halt. My throat’s tight as I try to swallow. It makes me bitter to be standing here, knowing I need to leave and can’t stay here. That I’m the one who gets to continue breathing. That fate chose to take one of the good ones, and leave the ruthless and depraved behind.
Five brothers are now only four.
Four of us stand over Tyler’s body. Six feet in the ground.
All of us will mourn him. The world is at a loss for not knowing him. I finally get the expression about how it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
Tyler was good through and through. He would have lived his days making the world a better place. He’d try to start a conversation with anyone; just to get to know them, just to make them laugh if he could.
All four of us lined up and saying our final goodbyes will never be the same after losing our youngest brother.
But only one of us knows the truth.
Only one of us is guilty.
The worst part is when I leave. I’m the last of us to finally part from Tyler’s grave, but when I leave, my gaze stays rooted to where her car was. Where Addison had parked. My memories aren’t of my father crying helplessly against the brick wall of the church, refusing to go in when he couldn’t hide his pain. The images that flash before my eyes as my shoes crunch against the icy snow aren’t of all his friends and teachers and family who have come from states away to tell us how sorry they are and how much Tyler will be missed.
All I can think about is Addison. How she stood so quietly on the fringes of the crowd, her fingers intertwined, her eyes glossy. How even as the wind ripped her scarf from her shoulders, carrying it into the distance and leaving her shoulders bare, she didn’t move. She didn’t even shudder. She was already numb.
The picture of her standing there motionless, staring at the casket is what I think about as I leave my brother.
I didn’t know then how dangerous that was. Or maybe I did and I didn’t want to believe it. But Addison would haunt me long after that night, as do so many other things.
She’s only a girl. One small, weak girl.
Her red cheeks and nose and windblown hair made her look that much more tempting. Everything about her is ruined. At least she appeared to be that night. But I knew she had more left in her. More life and spirit. More emotion to give.