I go back to spinning thoughts. Aborted ruminations that have me tapping restless fingers on my knees, legs so jittery it’s a battle to keep them still.
God, I hate not knowing he’s okay.
That he isn’t fucking okay.
Rescue workers missing.
Fuck, it’s been hours since Tam turned the TV off, but I keep hearing that headline in Galen’s voice. Picturing him in that black water, fighting the current, fighting himself, giving everything he has, because I know he’d never stop until he had nothing left.
You don’t even know he was there. Or that Galen’s crew even attended the crash at Whitefen Bridge.
Tam’s told me that.
More than once.
But deep inside, where my soul knows things my brain hasn’t figured out yet, I feel it. Iknowit.
He was there.
And he might not come back.
I wrench myself from the couch and pace to the window. It’s still so dark outside, but it’s snowing again, hard and fast, the kind of snow that stops the trains and turns the roads into ski runs come the morning.
Unless it’s Christmas morning and everyone stays home. But what is home without the people you love? And when did Galen become as dear to me as Tam? As Bhodi, who’s not here either?
I can’t put my finger on it. But I know it was somewhere around the time Esme started singing his name every time shesaw him. When he showed me just how muchhecould loveherif either one of us could ever get our heads around this thing between us.
Didn’t see it then.
I see it now, and the fear I’m way too late is tough to bear. What the hell am I going to do if I never see him again?
My vision blurs as lights flare outside, full-beams sweeping as a car crunches to a stop, tyres sliding a touch on the fresh snow.
Bhodi.
I recognise the shape of his old Golf, and though some tiny part of me eases knowing he’s here, I have zero intention of going outside.
But then I turn my back on the window and watch my brother stagger from the armchair and I know I can’t let him go out there alone, even if seeing him with Bhodi hurts as much as it heals.
We’re a family.
This is what we do.
I help Tam up and force him into his boots before he dashes outside in his socks, the fucking lunatic. I stamp into my own shoes and follow him into the snow. Into the gloom as Bhodi shuts off the car, swamping us in eerie quiet again.
The cold air stings. My breath fogs, wind biting my skin. I try not to think about how cold the river is. How cold it must’ve been for Galen. I try not to think of anything but my brother’s relief as Bhodi climbs out of the driver’s side, blond hair catching the glow of the streetlights, his lovely face drawn and pale, sunny smile faint and tired.
He nods to me as Tam reaches him. Then he’s gone, lost to a tornado of growly Dubois affection, and I feel the slump in my shoulders before it happens, fear, dejection, and sadness awicked mix of emotions that has me wanting to shut all the way down. To be alone with this soul-deep ache.
Go back inside.
I start to turn away. Change my mind and go back for Bhodi’s bag.
It’s usually on the passenger seat, discarded and open, belongings spilling out. I reach for the handle, but the door opens before I make contact and a tall figure unfolds from the seat, moving slowly—stiffly, auburn hair wild even before the wind finds it, tired green eyes locking on mine as snow falls between us.
Merde.
I have to be seeing things. But my heart gets a memo logical thought isn’t privy to, and sets off at a gallop as my world narrows to the battered and bruised man standing before me, snowflakes melting on his cheeks.
