“I know how hard it was when you were hurt and had to leave the game.” She clamped a hand to his forearm and rubbed back and forth. Then she pinched him. “But that’s still no reason to scare me like that! What in the hell were you thinking!”
“Ouch!” His eyes snapped to hers. “What was that for?”
“That was for you nearly giving me a heart attack,” she said. “I never liked the fact that you and Silas played football. I would sit in the stands and hold my breath through the entire game. I did that for years, Jamar. All through high school, while you were at UT, and then with the Bears. I finally get some peace and you go ahead and do this!”
“I was doing it partly for you and Big Silas,” he said.
“Why? Because of your ridiculous belief that you’re in some way responsible for taking care of us?”
“It’s not ridiculous. I am respon—”
“You’re not.”
“Yes, Iam,” he said. “I owe it to Silas. Eight years ago today, I sat beside him in that hospital room and I made a promise. I told him I would take care of all of you.”
“Silas would never want you to jeopardize your own health for our sake—for anyone’s sake. And I sure as hell wouldn’t want you to do that either. Seeing you carted off a field once was more than enough for me.” She looped her arm in the crook of his elbow and leaned against his side, resting her head on his shoulder. “I much prefer you like this, living a long, safe, and healthy life.”
Guilt sat like the Rock of Gibraltar in his throat. Her brother should be living a long, safe, and healthy life too.
“It was my fault,” he whispered.
Time stood stock-still as the words hung in the air. It was his voice, but Jamar could have sworn someone else had spoken. How else could he explain what had just come forth from his mouth?
“The accident,” he clarified, now that the words were out there. “It was my fault.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Drea said.
“Yes, it was. You don’t—”
“Iknow, Jamar,” she said, her voice soft yet insistent. “I know.” She let go of his arm and moved a couple of steps closer to the grave. “I have Silas’s cell phone. I’ve had it since that night. It miraculously survived the crash.”
Shock siphoned the air from his lungs. Shame assaulted him—hot and burning. She’d known all this time? She’d known and had never confronted him?
“I saw all the text messages he sent you that night, and how you never replied.” She ran her fingers over the engraved letters. “I wondered if maybe you didn’t have your phone on you, or if you’d had it on silent? But when I saw how guilty you looked at the hospital that night, I realized you’d purposely ignored him.” She looked up at him. “I still don’t know why. I’ve wanted to ask you so many times over the years.”
“I’m so sorry,” Jamar whispered, his throat on fire as he tried to get the words out. “Drea . . .”
“I’m not asking for an explanation anymore, because it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t. You were the brother he never had, Jamar. And there is nothing on this earth that you could have done that Silas wouldn’t have forgiven.” She lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug. “So I forgave you too. I forgave you a long time ago.”
He couldn’t speak. For the life of him, he could not utter a single word.
“You have to stop blaming yourself. He wouldn’t want that. That’s how I stopped blaming you, because I knew my brother’s heart, and I knew he wouldneverwant you to carry this guilt with you.”
“How?” Jamar had to work to clear his throat. “How can you not hate me, Drea? How can you ever stop blaming me when you know he’d be alive if not for me?”
She stalked over to him and cupped his jaw in her palm. Jamar didn’t realize he was crying until he felt her brush the tears from his cheek.
“I couldneverhate you. Ever.” She wiped another tear. “I don’t know whether Silas would still be alive if you’d answered his calls, and neither do you. That truck could have hit him at any time. Even if he’d left at midnight, or whenever that party ended. We will never know, and it’s not our place to question what fate had in store for Silas.”
Her words mirrored Taylor’s so closely that Jamar heard them in Taylor’s voice. But just as it had done with Taylor, his mind refused to allow those words to absolve him from his guilt.
“I stopped blaming you when I finally accepted that no amount of blame would bring Silas back. You can go on blaming yourself, but what will you gain from it, Jamar? How does it honor Silas if you spend the rest of your life punishing yourself?” She squeezed his arm. “You’re the closest thing I have to a brother, and I need you to be here for a very long time.” She gestured to the headstone. “There are better ways to honor Silas than playing football. He was more than just football, and so are you.”
His eyes roamed over her face, over those features she shared with her brother. The broad, flat nose with a smattering of freckles. Sharp, pronounced cheekbones. Deep-set brown eyes.
Eyes that held forgiveness.
“And you don’t have to worry about Big Silas,” Andrea continued. “I’ve handled everything. Between his VA benefits and supplemental insurance plan, his round-the-clock care is paid for. The only person you have to take care of isyou.” She gave him a peck on the cheek. “Silas would want you to be happy. You need to find what would make you happy and embrace it.”
