He doesn’t shrug me off, but I feel his shiver.
And he doesn’t lift his hands to mine. He just lets them hang limp.
I murmur “sorry” between his shoulder blades, his under-the-sea shirt tasting like its theme. Salty, gritty.
When he speaks, his voice vibrates through me, ringing clear against the rush of waves around our knees. “He always liked it up this coast.”
Trent is quiet for a few breaths and then he rolls a hand through his hair. “Maybe he’s trying to send me a message.”
I hold him tighter.
It’s late when we get back to Wellington. Grandpa is asleep.
I rub the pale stripe at my wrist, feeling a strange mix of relief and guilt at the loss.
Sara opens the door before we can unlock. Her form is dark with the light spilling in the hall behind her. My focus shifts from framed pictures to Grandpa’s denim hat I’d left hanging on the hook.
Sara pulls her ‘quiet’ finger away from her lips and steps out of the house, pulling the door shut behind her instead of letting us inside.
I can’t read her face in the dark, but something shadows it. She waves us around the side, into the backyard—past the chicken pen to the washing line choked with jasmine.
Her gaze knifes from Trent to me and back. “This is absolutely fucked up.”
Her language startles, and it’s meant to.
In an instant, I know she knows.
Trent briefly shuts his eyes.
She jerks a finger towards the house where Grandpa’s sleeping. “He thinks my dead nephew is alive.” Her finger swings to me, but her eyes are rooted tightly on Trent. “No wonder you don’t want him knowing you’re boyfriends. He’s playing your brother.”
I shake my head quickly.
Trent steps forward. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”
Sara laughs darkly. “Tell himnow? He’ll have a heart attack and keel over.” No melodrama. Just fact. The shock would kill him.
“Maybe...” I croak, “I should find an excuse to leave?—”
Sara turns on me, snapping. “He’s happy. Ika is here; he wants you around the rest of his days. Leaving now is as good as killing him too.”
I know this. It’s why, when the thought flittered through my mind from time to time, I never truly considered it an option.
Trent murmurs, “Keep this secret, and Grandpa will be fine.”
“I can keep the secret of Ika,” Sara says tightly, “but can you keep your feelings secret? If he finds out you’re... his mind won’t be able to take it.”
That will kill him too.
“We’re not,” Trent says quickly. “We’re not, I made that up. I didn’t want you to find out the real reason he was here.”
“Well, I found out. He spent the entire day telling me stories of how beautifully Ika has grown up.”
“I was distracted this weekend. I didn’t think it all through, having you stay with him.”
She looks at me again. “That kind of distraction is what’ll bring him to an early grave.”
“I told you,” Trent doubles down. “It’s not like that between us.”
