“I know it’s stupid.”
“No,” I murmur, tugging her closer. Her hand splays against my chest, but she doesn’t fight it. She lets herself lean against me, and one of her knees hooks over mine. “That’s not stupid at all. If I’d seen this before my mom left, I probably would have wished for the same.”
“Do you talk to your mom?”
My throat tightens. “No. She called every once in a while for the first year or two after she left, but eventually she stopped even doing that. I haven’t seen her in more than twenty years. Not sure where she lives, at this point.”
I’m assuming she’s still alive—my dad would have to know if she wasn’t, right?—but that’s speculation.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. I was too, for a long time. I couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t want to see me, or talk to me on the phone. But I don’t think about her much anymore. I barely remember what she looks like. I could pass her on the street, and I doubt I’d even realize.”
“Jesus, Logan. That’s unbelievably shitty.”
“It is what it is,” I say reflexively. But of course, Blair doesn’t buy it. Her thumb rubs circles over my chest.
“She’s missing out. Really.”
“I guess.”
“She is.” Blair’s voice is fierce, and a lump clogs my throat. “You may try to act like an unfeeling asshole, but you’re not. Beneath that tough-guy exterior, you’re a big softie, aren’t you?”
I try to laugh at that, but it comes out sounding choked. “Softie? I don’t know about that. I really am an asshole.”
“You’re not. You’re just scared to let anyone in.” She pauses, and I hold my breath. “I get it. I do the same thing. If you don’t let anyone in, they can’t disappoint you.”
I… She’s not wrong. I suppose I do that.
“And why do you feel the need to protect yourself against disappointment?” I whisper.
Blair sucks in a deep breath, and her fingers press hard against my chest, like she’s bracing herself before answering. I don’t speak, afraid to spook her before she gives me one of her truths. Because, for the first time in as long as I can remember, I want to hear them. I want to hear every deep, secret truth this woman will deign to tell me.
“Before our parents died, I was in college. Had great friends, a boyfriend I thought wasthe one. I had all these plans, you know? It was exciting. Everything felt like it was falling perfectly into place, and I’d found my forever people.
“But then I got that call. The one no one ever wants to answer. My parents had been away on a romantic trip together and left Reed to stay with a friend for two nights. They rented a cute little house, had plans for dancing and dinners… I remember feeling jealous because it sounded like so much fun…” Her voice trails off, and I hold her tighter.
“There was a fire. The smoke detectors in the house they were renting were faulty or the batteries were dead… I don’t know. All I know is, they didn’t wake up in time to get out.” Her voice catches. “I hope… I hope it was the smoke that got them because the alternative is just too…”
“Fuck, baby.”
Blair’s fingers dig into my chest. “I was at Noah’s when they called. We were in bed. I ignored the first call because I didn’t recognize the number. Then they called again right away, and I had this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, you know?When I answered and they called meMiss Sherman, I just… I knew my life would never be the same.”
There’s a heavy, silent pause as Blair gathers her thoughts. I reach up and run my fingers over her forehead and cheeks, offering my silent support as best I can. Nothing I could say would be adequate. Nosorryorthat’s terriblecould touch the level of devastation Blair must have felt. Must still feel. She doesn’t need words; she needs to know I’m here for her.
“Anyway. I called Reed’s friend’s mom, and she assured me he could stay there for as long as I needed until I could move back home. It hadn’t even really occurred to me until I called her that’s what I’d have to do. I’d have to move out of the apartment I shared with my boyfriend and move back home. Because if I didn’t, who else would take care of Reed? We didn’t have any other family.”
Blair sucks in a ragged breath. “When I told Noah, he was great. He held me as I cried, told me everything would be okay. Said we’d figure it out. And when I told my friends that I’d have to finish school virtually and move home, they assured me they’d always be there. They’d come for weekends and help me with Reed. They’d call and video chat with me every single day…”
My stomach sinks when her voice catches.
“And stupid me, but I believed them. Noah helped me pack all my stuff. Even drove the truck home for me so I didn’t have to. He stayed with Reed and me for the first two nights, but I could tell he was uncomfortable. Reed was a mess. Angry, crying nonstop, asking when Mom and Dad were coming home…” Her words cut off, and I feel my shirt growing wet.
Gently, I brush her tears away with my thumb. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you. You were so young, and you’d just lost your parents. To have to comfort your little brother at the same time…”
“I’d do anything for Reed,” she says reflexively.
“Of course you would. I know that, baby. I’m just saying that you were so fucking brave and strong. But I wish you didn’t have to do that alone.”
