The box has a pulse.
I curl my fingers around the lid.
Without looking over, Grandpa pats my hand. Not yet.
We climb higher and higher. Grandpa breathes out deeply. Reverent. Like he’s walking not just towards the lone tree capping the hill, but towards something he’s already grappled with.
My stomach doesn’t stop tightening. Stopping at the craggy edge gives me the dizzying feeling that I’m about to fall. I sink to the grass, bowed over the box.
Below us grassy paddocks stretch in all directions, and there is Trent, starfished in a patch of sunlit grass.
He’s small from all the way up here. His burnt-orange shirt against light grass.
Grandpa groans his way down onto the grass beside me, his eye shifting to Trent as well.
“He means well, my grandson,” Grandpa murmurs.
And... the way he says it, the forgiving twitch on his lips... the lack of shock on his face at our entwined hands.
Blood rushes around my ears. “You . . .”
“I figured it out a long time ago.”
My throat sticks. I’m clutching the ghostly box. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“He resurrected Ika to make me smile. But you did more than that—you brought his smile back too.”
I’m crushing the box against my chest.
“I didn’t want the truth to take you away. So I played along. Hoping Trent would realise he was doting on you, not his lost little brother.”
“Things got tangled,” I choke out. “We were afraid our lies would kill you.”
“Mm. When I saw it, I knew I had to talk to him.”
It hits like a surprise wave, punching the air from my lungs.
“You talked to him.”
Trent knew Grandpa knew.
“When you were in Palmerston North.”
I’m pulled underwater sharply, tossing, turning: which way is up? I’m bashed with bits of conversation that suddenly take on new meaning. The day before I left for Palmy.
“I have beef with this one anyway. I’ll use the time to set him straight while you’re gone.”
“Not too straight.”
“Ha. Romance would be good for him. I won’t damage his chances.”
I hear it now. Aboyfriendwould be good for him. Better than a fake brother.
They talked while I was away. While I was penning postcards so they wouldn’t forget me; while I was worrying my feelings might prove fatal...
My teeth clench. I remember Ika’s side of the bedroom—packed away, empty, the air thick with cologne and something that felt like grief.
Trent knew Grandpa knew.
