“Baby girl!” Roux coos, even though I’m six years older, rushing to me from the table. She wraps me in her arms, squeezing me against her soft curves. I allow myself to melt into her embrace. “When I hadn’t heard from you, I was afraid I wouldn’t get to see you at all during winter break.”
We pull apart to look at one another, still locking arms. She’s a couple inches taller than me in her platform sneakers, so I have to look up to meet her warm brown eyes circled with rings of green. Her gaze fills me with a comfortable warmth I haven’t felt in nearly two years, not since Cyrus. Tears form in my eyes as she squeezes my elbows. “Don’t cry, baby,” she whispers, rubbing her thumbs across my cheeks. She hugs me again before leading me, hand in hand, back to the table.
Guilt snakes through me as I remember I’ve barely spoken to her these last few months. Yet, she’s still filled with joy upon seeing me. Roux has always been a bright light when all I am is dark.
“You remember my ma, Magnolia?” she chirps, gesturing to the smiling woman next to my mama. Her bright hazel eyes are full of empathy and understanding, like they were already talking about me before I came in. I nod, pulling my lips into an uncomfortable smile and taking the empty seat next to Roux.
“Oh, Jace!” Magnolia exclaims, clasping her hands together. She’s never lost her Southern charm. “It’s been so long! The last time I saw you must have been right before you left for college.”
“The party,” my mama confirms, bobbing her head enthusiastically. It seems Magnolia has the same effect on Mama as Roux does on me. “I can’t believe that was the last time we all got together. We can’t wait so long next time!”
“Oh, I agree,” Magnolia says, patting Mama’s hand. Her eyes drift to me, softening as she watches me squirm in my chair, like she can read my every emotion. I chew on the inside of my cheek, thinking of something to add to the conversation. Magnolia doesn’t wait for the pause to become awkward before speaking again. “Why don’t we let the girls catch up on their own, and I’ll put on another pot of coffee?”
“Yes!” Roux shrieks, making Pop jump in his seat. I hide a giggle behind one hand, and Roux reaches for the other. “I’mtaking the cookies though! Jace looks like she could use a little sugar rush.”
My attention goes back to Magnolia, silently thanking her. I let Roux pull me back towards my room. She effortlessly balances the plate of cookies with me in tow as she bounces down the hall. As soon as we’re safely inside, no longer obligated to make polite small talk, I close the door behind us and throw my head back in relief. Roux places the cookies on the nightstand before flopping onto the bed.
“This room hasn’t changed a bit,” she laughs, rolling over to prop herself up on her elbow. She leans her head into her hand, staring at me questioningly, searching my eyes for unspoken answers. Roux snaps the gum in her mouth, raising an eyebrow. “So, what’s really goin’ on?”
I sigh, sliding down the end of the bed to sit on the floor. Roux runs her hand through my hair, working out the knots carefully to keep from pulling. “I don’t even know where to start,” I answer honestly. “It’s been really fucking weird ‘round here the last few days.”
“I figured, given how awkward it was sittin’ with your folks. You’d ‘a thought you died or somethin’, the way your mama was mopin’ around the kitchen.” She chuckles softly, scooting forward to rest her head on top of mine. “What happened?”
My words tangle in my throat, and I choke on a sob. Roux lifts her head and climbs off the bed, sliding down to sit by my side. She encircles me in her arms as I begin to cry. “I…I just got back home, and Pop’s already hollerin’ at me about being too sad and makin’ Mama feel bad.”
“Shhhh,” she hushes, brushing my bangs away from my face. “It’s okay. You don’t haveta tell me until you’re good and ready.” Roux squeezes me tighter, curling her body to mine. I sob harder, leaning my head on her shoulder. I don’t deserve a friendhalf as good as her, especially since I’ll never be able to return the favor.
“Cyrus isdead.” The words spill from me before I’m prepared to say them. Roux’s body goes rigid, and her breath hitches, unsure of what to say next. The action is so unlike her normal comforting demeanor, I pull back slightly. My eyes meet hers, scanning them for her reaction to the news. “You knew?”
Roux winces and unfolds herself from me. She leans back, taking my face in her hands. Her head tilts to one side as she chews on her bottom lip. “Not for sure, no.”
I shake my head, dropping my face into my hands. My chest heaves with each shaky breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She reaches for my hands and inhales deeply. “I didn’t know for sure. It was just a hunch something bad happened.”
“Howlong?” I croak, putting my head to my knees. “How long have you known?”
“Maybe about six months after he disappeared,” she confesses, drawing her hands back into her lap. Her voice cracks. “He never went more than a few weeks without texting me back, but when the calls started goin’ to voicemail, I got this heaviness in my gut.”
“Did anyone check on him?” The words come out barely audible. My legs shake, knees knocking together.
“I told Ma ‘bout it, but she told me to stay out of the Gibsons’ business. She’s always thought they were nothin’ but trouble, and I can’t blame her. I convinced myself he was just avoiding me because he knew we talked, but it all just felt so wrong.” Her cheeks redden, voice filling with shame.
“I don’t know why anyone would speak about poor old Elias like that.” I groan, peeking up at her. A smirk tugs at the corner of my lips.
We both burst into a fit of laughter until we’re lying on the floor, mixed tears of humor and grief streaming down ourcheeks. We grow quiet, the gravity of what I just revealed sinking into us again. Roux’s hand drifts over the carpet until it finds mine, interlacing our fingers before bringing our hands to her chest.
“How did you find out?” she whispers, pressing the back of my hand to her warm lips. My skin ignites, making me painfully aware of how deprived of human contact I’ve been after a year of seclusion. Roux’s gentle gestures are like a warm blanket after months of chilly winter air. My hand shakes as I adjust to the friction of her skin against mine, before letting myself lean into the heat traveling through my body.
“Pop blurted it out last night during one of our arguments,” I groan, turning my head away from her. His words sear through my thoughts. “He didn’t come right out with it, not exactly. Might as well have, though—said I needed to let dead things staydead.”
“How would he know?” Roux asks sternly, accusation thick in her tone.
“I was askin’ myself the same question.” If Roux and her mama don’t even know for sure, how would he? Maybe he’s just assuming too, but I can’t let that flicker of hope fan into a flame. Deep down, I know it was more than an assumption. There was too much conviction in his statement, too vehement in his denial about what he had said.
“How do you feel?” she whispers, pulling my arm to roll me toward her.
“Like shit,” I laugh darkly. “I don’t know what to think. If your family didn’t know, why would he? He didn’t even like…Cyrus. Or, at least, he said as much last night.”
