Was. That’s what he said. Hewasgoing to do those things.
Heath’s gaze lifts to mine, only the anger I expect to see pulling at his features isn’t there. And I understand.
That life that he thought he was fine with, the life without any real highs or lows, without markers or accomplishments, it’s not enough anymore. It’s not enough because his brother is gone and he can’t live his life watching a ghost from the sidelines.
And it’s terrifying.
“What do you care about?” I ask Heath sometime later when we’re sitting in the shade sharing a water bottle.
“Care about how?”
“The way I care about skating.” I nod toward the tree trunk with my chin. “Is it wood carving?” Heath has shown me photos of a few pieces he worked on with his granddad, and he’s really good. I know my dad would love to get his hands on someone with Heath’s talent. If Heath were anyone else, I’d have already introduced them.
Heath’s throat moves as he drinks deeply before offering the water back to me. “No, that’s more about my granddad.”
I take the water bottle. “What then?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“You’re telling me there’s nothing that—that, I don’t know, makes you feel like you’re awake when everything else feels like a dream?”
“Is that what ice-skating is for you?”
I nod.
He takes the water from my unprotesting fingers. “Must be nice.”
It’s more than nice; it’s vital. Skating is a part of me, even if now it has to be a smaller part. It’s kind of heartbreaking to think of Heath without that. “Did you have anything before?”
“Before Cal died?” He waits for my nod. “I can’t even remember before Cal died. Does that make sense?”
It does. “I could help you find it, you know?”
He smiles at me, but it feels far-off somehow. “Something to make me feel awake?”
I feel my smile trying to compensate for the lack in his. “Yeah.”
He sighs, but it doesn’t feel heavy, more like he’s letting go of something. “I don’t feel asleep now. Up for trying one more?”
I don’t think he means it that way, but it feels like the best compliment I’ve ever gotten. When he reaches for me, I know that I’m going to do everything I can to make sure he stays awake.
CHAPTER 25
Laura is sitting cross-legged on her bed and Ducky is in his cage whistling at her in a failed attempt to get her attention when I bound into her room the next morning, and I do mean bound. I have to overdo it if I’m going to have any hope of enlisting her in what I have planned for the day.
For as much time as she spends in her room, it’s as slovenly kept as the rest of her. I shift a little so I’m not sitting directly on what looks like an old chocolate milk stain on her bedspread. There are similar stains on her clothes, both the ones she’s wearing and the few that are scattered across the floor. The drawers to her dresser are hanging half-open and there’s trash everywhere except in the wastebasket. It’s not that she was any kind of a neat freak before—she was always in too much of a hurry to do something to care if her room was a mess—but she wasn’t an open slob. Mom was too aware of her own harsh upbringing to force any of us to clean our rooms, and she never really had to with Jason and me. Laura would eventually get frustrated when she couldn’t find a favorite T-shirt and she’d beg me to help her clean her room. She’d keep things semi-neat for about a month then the mess would take over and the cycle would start again. But this... I don’t think she’s touched a thing since Jason was arrested. It doesn’t smell like she has.
The only clean thing in the entire room—including Laura—is Ducky’s cage.
Taking a deep breath through my mouth, I do my best to ignore all that and focus only on Laura’s face.
“I’m busy,” she says, without taking her eyes from the open laptop she’s staring at.
I lean over and close it.
“Hey.” It’s a half-hearted protest at best, but still a good sign. I wait for her gaze to shift from the computer to me.
“I need you to come to a carnival with me.”
