I find myself back on the stairs, waiting.
It’s close to midnight when the downstairs entrance door screeches as somebody pushes it open. I’m half-asleep, my head banging against the railing I’ve been leaning against as I bolt upright.
The footsteps sound heavy. They pound against the steps, taking several at a time by the number of noises before they just… stop.
Swallowing, I get to my feet and brush myself off.
The footsteps pick up again, slower this time.
Until he rounds the corner, and I face Ben’s brother for the first time.
Jared looks nothing like him at first glance. His obsidian hair is disheveled, haphazard curls, shaved on either side to keep it in check. Dark stubble covers the lower half of his face, and he runs his hand over it as his eyes land on me.
He stops, staring up at me in the flickering light overhead. “Emilia?”
His eyes travel over me, assessing, before he continues up the steps, pausing two steps below me and putting us at eye level.
Say something.
Now that he’s closer, I can see more similarities. In the way the curls on top of his head sit, riotous and wild. And in his eyes.
My heart squeezes and twists.
They have the same eyes.
Deep, deep brown. But as I look, I see a deep ring of amber surrounding Jared’s pupils that Ben doesn’t have. But the shape, the rest of the color – they’re almost identical, except for that ring.
And the ice that fills them. He doesn’t smile. I see none of Ben’s warmth in his expression.
They have similar cheekbones, though. Jared has paler skin, compared to Ben’s golden tones. A little taller, but equally broad. The way that Ben was when I met him. Jared clearly favors band t-shirts too, but he’s wearing a red flannel shirt, pushed up to his elbows over the top of his faded black tee.
Jared studies me just as closely. His familiar eyes travel over me without apology. My cheeks heat at the blatant assessment.
And as his lips press together, I realize that I held some small hope that Jared might be an ally. A friend, even. Someone to share the pain that has taken up residence inside my heart.
But his voice is cold. Disapproving, even, shredding that notion of friendship into pieces and sending them fluttering through the space between us. He shifts, gripping a green canvas tote bag in one hand and a battered guitar case in the other. “Where’s my brother?”
I shrink back at the cold in his tone. “He’s—,”
“Emmy!”
The cry has both Jared and I whirling.
Jared follows, barely half a step behind me as I dart up the stairs and through the door. Ben is thrashing, his skin soaked with sweat. “Emmy!”
“I’m here.” He stops jerking as I reach him, my hands cupping his cheeks. “I’m here, Ben. It’s alright.”
My breathing is fast and uneven, as if I’ve been running. Ben opens his eyes, fixing them on me. “You left.”
“No,” I reassure him, trying to keep my voice steady as I reach for the bowl Nicole left on the table for me to use. Squeezing out the excess water from the sponge, I wipe the sweat away from his forehead. “I was just outside.”
“Did you go to work?”
Slowly, I shake my head. I don’t look at the maps covering the walls, the discarded book on the floor beside me as I stroke his hair back, out of his face. “Not today.”
Today, we went to Brazil. But you don’t remember.
I can feel him behind me. Watching me.
