“How’s the road been?” I asked, the question clawing its way out of my throat before I could stop it.
Evan sighed, swirling his drink. “It’s the road, Si. Loud. Fast. Airports suck. Catering sucks.” He paused, then looked right at me. “He’s okay. He’s… surviving. He’s seeing a girl from developmental now. Some blonde fromAftershock. I think it’s PR, mostly, but…”
The blood drained from my face so fast it made me dizzy. My stomach rolled over.
“I wasn’t asking that,” I snapped, the jealousy flaring hot and ugly in my chest. I slammed my glass down on the table, hard enough that tea sloshed over the rim. “I wasn’t asking who he was sleeping with.”
Evan flinched. He saw the devastation I had been trying to hide for five years.
“Silas…”
“Stop,” I whispered, shaking my head. I stood up, walking to the edge of the porch, gripping the railing until my knuckles turned white. “Just stop.”
Five years of silence. Five years of pretending I was recovering. And one mention of a blonde from developmental shattered me completely.
“I was so in love with him,” I whispered. The words tasted like ash. I had only said it once. And I didn’t want to admit it again. Not to myself. Not to God. Certainly not to Evan.
“I ran, Evan,” I choked out, tears blurring the tree line. “I ran like my fucking father did when I was born. I ran like Scott did to the pills. I ran like my mother who didn’t have the capacity to love anything that wasn’t herself. I’m just another Reed running from the good thing.”
I turned around, tears streaming down my face.
“I lost the best thing in my life,” I sobbed. “I left him there in a hotel room crying. I walked out. And now he’s with some… some girl, and I’m sitting on a porch waiting to die.”
Evan stood up and walked over to me. He gripped my forearm, grounding me.
“You know he asks me about you still?” Evan asked quietly.
I stared at him. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak. I just stood there, the silence stretching between us, heavy and suffocating.
“Throughout the tours,” Evan continued, his voice low. “Anytime he sees me in catering. Or at the hotel. He comes up, acts all casual, asks about the weather. Then he asks, ‘Seen any old friends lately?’ And when you had the surgery… God, Silas. He texted me every couple hours asking if you were awake. If the pain meds were working. If you were okay.”
Evan squeezed my arm.
“He doesn’t know I know,” Evan whispered. “But I know why he asks. I’m not as dumb as he thinks.”
I closed my eyes, letting the pain wash over me.
He asks.
It hurt more than if he had forgotten me. It meant I was haunting him, too.
YEAR SIX - THE REED LAND, NORTH CAROLINA
Now playing: The Prophecy - Taylor Swift
ChristmasatScott’shousewas loud. It was the kind of chaotic, manufactured joy that usually made me smile, but this year, it felt suffocating.
The kitchen was packed. My younger siblings were arguing over football. The dogs were barking. The smell of burnt turkey and expensive Christmas candles hung in the air.
I stood by the fridge, nursing a cup of hot coffee, watching Amanda in the living room. She was sitting on the floor with my twin cousins, laughing at something on the TV. She looked beautiful. She was perfect. She was everything a man should want.
“She’s a catch, Silas.”
I jumped. Aunt Jayme had cornered me, a mug of hot chocolate in her hand.
“Yeah,” I mumbled, taking a sip of my drink “She is.”
“Are you going to propose to that girl anytime soon?” Jayme asked, nudging my arm. “You’re not getting any younger. And neither is Maverick. He wants grandbabies, you know.”
