All that was left now was to talk to Leo, to show him that life could still be beautiful no matter what secrets he carried. That there was nothing to be ashamed of because he would always be loved.
Things were going to get better for him. I would make sure of it.
I slipped out of bed and went to his room to check on him. He was still asleep, just as he had been when I'd returned home last night. The mental exhaustion of everything he'd been processing had clearly taken its toll, and I didn't blame him. He'd been through more in the last twenty-four hours than most teenagers would ever feel.
Thankfully, my parents hadn't returned when I'd pulled into the driveway, so no one had noticed my extended absence. Everything was going to be okay.
After a long, hot shower that seemed to wash away the last remnants of fear and anger I'd been carrying, I made my way downstairs for some cereal. The only thing left now was figuring out how to get back to our timeline and hoping the changes we'd made hadn't disrupted our present too dramatically.
As long as my brother was free and had the chance to live the life he deserved, I was willing to face any consequences.
And I had Kyle by my side now. Really by my side, not just physically but emotionally. He had proven himself in ways I hadn't dared to hope for. Together, we could handle whatever came next.
Since I was the only one awake, I decided to take Bailey for a walk. The morning air was crisp and clean, and the neighborhood was just beginning to stir with early risers heading to the church or walking their own dogs. Bailey seemed to sense my improved mood, so he pushed me to take a longer walk than on other days. We walked for nearly an hour, taking the long route through the park where children would soon be playing, past the coffee shop that wouldn't open for another hour, and around the entire perimeter of our neighborhood.
By the time we returned home, the sun was fully up. I started thinking about plans for today, maybe getting somemore sleep, getting ahead on some tasks, or watching a movie. But as I approached our driveway, something made me stop short. The car had a dent in the back bumper that definitely hadn't been there before.
"That's weird," I muttered to myself, walking closer to examine it.
My blood turned to ice when I saw what was mixed in with the twisted metal of the dent. Dark red stains that could only be one thing.
I ran into the house and grabbed a rag and a bucket of water from the kitchen. This couldn't be happening. I had been so careful. I hadn't hit anything, hadn't crashed into anyone. I had driven home slowly, cautiously, checking and double-checking every turn.
But somehow, there was blood in the car.
When I rushed back outside, Kyle was standing in front of the car, staring at the damage with an expression that made my stomach drop.
"I can explain," I said, my voice sounding very desperate. "It's not what you think."
My mind was racing through possibilities. Had I hit something and not realized it? Had someone else used the car? Had the damage been there all along, and I just hadn't noticed in the darkness?
But even as I tried to rationalize it, a terrible certainty was settling in my chest. Someone had used this car to hurt someone. And given everything that had happened last night, there was only one person it could have been used against.
"I don't know where this came from," I continued, hating how panicked I sounded. "I swear I had nothing to do with it. I drove straight home after I left your house. I was careful, I?—"
"I know," he said. "But we need to talk. Something terrible happened."
He didn't need to tell me what. I could see it in his eyes.
Oliver was dead.
Kyle helped me clean the car while I tried to process what this meant for us. We scrubbed away the blood and put the rags in the washing machine, running a hot cycle that would hopefully eliminate any forensic evidence. The dent would still be a problem if police came investigating, but without bloodstains, we could claim it had happened in a parking lot or while backing out of a tight space.
When we finished, we went up to my room, where I picked up my phone, which I had left on the nightstand, and saw dozens of missed calls and messages from classmates, all sharing different versions of the same devastating news.
I still couldn't wrap my head around it. Oliver was dead. After everything we'd done to avoid this exact outcome, somehow we'd ended up in the same place anyway.
"Do you know what happened?" I asked, sitting in my bed.
Kyle stood by the window, looking out at the street. He seemed worried, conflicted, like he knew something he didn't want to tell me. Or maybe he wanted to believe me, but the evidence was making it difficult to do so.
The thought that he might doubt me again, that we might have to go through the same heartbreak, made my chest tighten with panic. So nerves made me start talking.
"I'm sorry I left your house without telling you," I said, needing to fill the silence. "I didn't want my parents to come home and find the car missing. Plus, I'd left Leo alone, and after everything that happened, I was afraid he might try to hurt himself while I wasn't there to stop him."
He remained quiet, his back still turned to me.
"Please say something," I whispered. "Anything. I can't stand not knowing what you're thinking."
