He licks his dry lips. “She’s more than that, Jar. She’s my forever. I found my forever, and I don’t get to live it. How fucking unfair is that?”
I have to force myself not to look at the doorway. To see if she’s there, listening.
He coughs, then. A wet, hacking cough that grates against my own lungs as he twists.
“Life isn’t fair,” I say when he stops. “I learned that a long time ago.”
“Don’t do that.” Ben pokes me in the ribs, exactly like he used to do when we were kids. “Sometimes good things happen. You have to hold onto them when they do.”
I don’t say anything, not wanting to dampen his positive outlook. Not that I’ve ever been able to. My brother has always had a knack for seeing the good things through all the shit we’ve had thrown at us.
Even now.
I focus on his chest, counting the breaths.
“She could be your good thing,” he whispers, and my eyes flick to his. “You know, when I met her… I was glad that I met her first, and not you.”
I blink. Something stutters inside my chest. “What? Why?”
He closes his eyes. “Doesn’t matter. Not right now. I need to… get ready. I have to go soon. But you need to take care of her, Jar. It’s important.”
His words send a wave of cold sweeping over my body.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” I ask roughly.
He only responds more than a minute later, when I think he’s asleep.
“I’m glad you came, Jar.”
25
Emmy
It takes me a long time to make it back up the stairs.
Every time I try, I feel the tears start again. Eventually, I stop trying and just stay where I am. Someone passes me every so often, nobody paying attention to the girl crying on the communal steps in the middle of the night.
Jared is with Ben.
My nails dig painfully into my palms as I press my clenched fists against my forehead and lean over my knees, trying to put myself back together so I can walk back in with a smile. To put the pain back.
To shove it back into the box and lock it tightly, to be faced another time.
A time that’s coming much, much sooner than I’m ready for.
I’m not ready yet.
Eventually, I manage it. My face is blotchy but clear, my eyes itchy and my throat aching, but I slip back into the apartment with a smile ready on my lips.
It fades slightly as Jared turns his head.
Our eyes meet, and I inhale.
Just for a second, he lets me see it.
The pain—
Not the pain. Pain is too soft a word for what burns in his eyes.
