Lincoln releases my hand and wanders across to the table. “Are you going to open it?” He doesn’t touch the box. He doesn’t so much as breathe on it. Instead, he stands tall, then crouches, leans one way, and then another.
“It’s a brown box.” I set my purse on the floor by the door and link my fingers together behind my back. Like Lincoln, I suppose, I’m not quite brave enough to touch it yet. “A foot tall,” I guesstimate. “A foot deep. The same, wide.” I nibble on the inside of my cheek and look from the box to the man who towers over it. “What do you think it could be?”
“I have literally no clue.” He straightens again and frowns. “I hope it’s not a human head.”
I purse my lips. “Really?”
He chokes out a soft laugh. “I’m sorry. This is really fucking stressful, Nova! Just open it. Put yourself out of misery.”
“What if it’s something dumb like a football or a pile of magazines or a box of rocks, all so he could annoy me one last time?” I amble closer and pull out the chair at the head of the table. I don’t sit—yet—but I may need to, so I prepare for a soft landing. “What if it’s silly, so then I’ll feel like an idiot for hoping for something more meaningful?”
“Then he’ll have provided you with one last moment of silliness. Doing his brotherly duty, even after he passed.”
“And what if it’s not silly? What if it’s a letter that says a million wonderful things that’ll haunt me for the rest of my life? Like how he loved me and lived to protect me. Maybe it’ll say how he’s so horribly sorry he’s gone, and that if he could change things, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Is that not what you wish for, too?” He comes to a stop on my left, his aftershave a merciful reprieve from the clamp squeezing my lungs closed. But when I remain facing the box, he takes my arms and forces me around, warming my skin with his stroking palms. “You wish everything was different, Nova. You wish he were here. How does a letter saying that change anything?”
“Because itcan’tbe changed.” Tears well in my eyes, blurring my vision and leaving me weak. “Because there’s an understanding, right? About how, once we die, we’re in a better place. We feel peace, and nothing hurts, and blah blah blah. But if he wrote about how he’s supposed to still be here, how he’s mad and sad and feels ripped off, because it wasn’t supposed to happen like this, then that imagined peace is out the window.Which just leaves him, where? On the side of the fricken road, dead and bleeding and sad andnotaccepting that this happened to him. Peace implies Heaven, but non-acceptance means he’s stuck in purgatory.”
He rubs my arms, harder now, creating friction as tears stream down my cheeks.
“If hemustbe gone, then the least I can hope for is that he’s at peace. Whatever’s in that box might shatter that illusion, and it’s the illusion that helps me get through another day. Because he’s not just my brother, Linc. He’s my twin. He’s myother half.” I exhale a shuddering breath. “Mere mortals can’t live with only half of themselves.”
“Hey.” He drags me in and wraps his arms around my back, crushing me against his chest and sliding his hand into my hair. “Come on, baby. Take a breath.”
“Death comes for everybody. But when it’s not fair, it’s just…” I try to shake my head. “It’s not fair! And those left behind are forced to process that horrible reality. But there’s just me,” I sob. “I’m the only one left. So, I have to carry it alone, and I’m not even a whole person, Linc. I’m half a person, carrying a load others would crumble under.”
“Because you’re brave.” He presses a kiss to the crown of my head. “Because you’re strong.” Another. “Because you’re whole, amazing, and beautiful, Nova.” He cups my face in his hands and squeezes until my cheeks push into my vision. “You’re not a half, babe. You’re whole. And he was whole. And together, you made something really special. That doesn’t mean your loss is any less, or that your heart isn’t aching, or that your pain isn’t real. But he wouldn’t wish half-ness on you, any more than you’d wish it upon him if the tables were turned.”
“But—”
“There’s no but. You arenota half, Nova. You’re grieving and sad, and you’re right, this wasn’t fair. None of it was. But it happened, and you have only two options right now. You can keep fighting. Keep standing. Keep living, knowing you have a whole life ahead of you and a brother who would want you to live it. Even when it’s hard.”
I crush my eyes closed, fat tears squeezing through my lashes and onto my cheeks.
“Or you can lie down and give up.” He presses his lips to my forehead and bathes my skin with the warmth of his breath. “I know the latter is tempting. When the world is heavy, and life is hard, when you’re all alone and the person you love the most is gone, Iknowgiving up sounds like the easiest, comfiest option.” Pulling back, he rests his forehead on mine. “But I’m not ready to let you go, Nova. I’m not ready to give up on you yet.”
My lungs spasm and ache. “Lincoln?—”
“Wearethat serious.” He searches my eyes, his long fingers stretching around to the nape of my neck. “We’re not supposed to be. And fuck knows, your brother would light my ass on fire if he found out. But we’re here anyway, and I’m not ready to let you quit.”
“What if I don’t want to open the box?” My chest shudders with a deep, blinding anguish that hasn’t left since the day my life changed. “What if we take it home and I ignore it? Or if I give it back to the lawyers and don’t open it?”
“Then that’s what you do.”
His breath taps my lips, tickling until I slide my tongue out and touch where it prickles.
“If you don’t want to open it, then don’t,” he croons. “I support whatever choice you make.”
“But aren’t you curious?” I swipe fresh, hot tears from my cheeks. “I called you in here with the promise of a secret box, and now I’ll just walk away?”
His eyes dance with a mixture of affection and sadness. Hope. Despair. “If you want to ignore the box, then ignore it. If you wanna set it on fire, I’ll hand you the fucking match.”
“Really?” I rest my shaking hands on his sides. “Without even looking?”
“Without even looking. If it’s a stack of magazines, you’ll want to step back and cover your nose. Ya know, toxic vapors and printer ink.”
I cough out a cathartic, ridiculous laugh. “Gross.”
