Maya’s lips quirked. “Let me guess. She broke your heart?”
I gave her a theatrical wince. “Nah. She moved before I could tell her I liked her. Didn’t even get a shot.”
She let out a sympathetic coo, paired with that cute little twist of her mouth.
I tried to flip the blade open, but it barely moved. It was rusted solid.
She leaned in, took it gently, and gave it a try herself. Nothing.
“Never mind,” I said, setting it back down. “I’ll clean it someday.”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she looked at me for a long second, like she knew what this was really about.
“My sister didn’t just die,” I said quietly. “She was murdered.”
Maya stilled. “Noah…”
“I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while. That night at the wedding, when you told me about your dad and about your mom going silent on you. You held me like I was something you were afraid to lose.”
“But I did leave you that night.”
“Yeah,” I said. “You did. But you didn’t run when I came for you. Your hold, Maya. I knew then. Only someone who understands loss can hold like that. And someone like that doesn’t walk away for good.” I reached for her hand and held it the same way I had on that dance floor. “I kept thinking, if I could just get to you in time, if I could remind you, you’d stay. Because the part of you that understands what it’s like to lose everything? I believed it wouldn’t let you walk away from something real.”
She squeezed back. “You believed right.”
I gave a nod, then let her go and picked up the knife again. I turned it in my hands, letting the rust bite into my fingertips. “I haven’t talked about this. Not with anyone.”
The words scraped their way out. My chest felt too small to hold the grief. Too brittle.
I felt dizzy.
I felt sick.
And I hated it. Hated talking about Tessa. Hated the way even thinking her name cracked something inside me.
But with Maya, I wanted her to know.
And maybe more than that…Ineededher to.
She stayed close, her fingers brushing mine. Just that. A little touch, but enough to keep me from drifting too far into the dark.
“I was fourteen,” I said. “It was Friday night. Elia and Tessa were acting off. They kept telling me to stay home, like I was some tag-along kid who’d get in the way.”
Maya didn’t speak or move. She just listened.
“I figured they were sneaking off to a party, and I wanted in. Wanted to be like El. Loud, fearless, and already grown. But I chickened out.” I gave a dry laugh. “Morning came, still no sign of them. I thought, screw it! I figured the party hadn’t stopped, so I grabbed my bike and rode to The Willow.”
The words scraped my throat raw. I hadn’t said that out loud in years. Maybe ever.
“The Willow?”
“It’s a little cottage. Tessa’s escape hatch whenever The Lazy Moose got too much.”
The images came slowly but relentlessly.
“I let myself in. It was dead quiet. No music, no mess, no party. I called her name. Nothing. I thought maybe she was just sleeping it off. I walked to her room.”
My breath stuttered. I could see it all…that door, slightly open.
