“He gave me a place to stay,” I respond. “So, that’s something, I guess. But I don’t really need the rest of you holding out hope for anything more. Too much has happened, and we’ve outgrown each other.” Those words burn like acid as they crawl out of my throat. My soul wants to scream wrong, wrong, wrong but I continue, “We won’t be friends like we used to be.”
“I think it’s more than that, Lena,” Leo chimes in. “If you’ve ever loved someone, in whatever capacity that may be, you never fully stop. A little part of you always hopes for their well-being. I think just knowing he’s here, that he’s safe and okay, after everything we’ve been through… It’s helping you, even if the relationship isn’t the same anymore.”
I only shrug.
Of course, he’s not wrong. I’ve always longed for August to be safe and healthy. Maybe not happy, not in my deepest moments of despair when I needed someone to blame, but I savored whatever information my family would share in passing. The confirmation that he was breathing was something I couldn’t function without.
“I mean…the first two days Darby and I drove from Kansas out here, she didn’t even speak to me.” Leo laughs to himself. “There was so much tension, so many secrets, we were completely untrusting of each other, but it was like…” He shakes his head, taking a breath. “Just knowing she was under the same roof I was, even if in different rooms, I felt settled. I felt whole. That if she needed me, I was nearby. That I knew where she was and that she was safe. After so many years of asking questions, or fear I’d stumble across her name in an obituary or something like that…the knowing, it helped.”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “It does.”
“Yeah, well…” Everett sighs. “I still think you should be seeing a therapist.”
Everett has been pushing therapy to me since the day Zach died, but even harder in the last six months. They tell me everyone is going to therapy now, at the insistence of Dahlia. Even August has one, a fact which took me by surprise.
But even with the distraction of living here, the distraction of having a job, the urge to write again—that heaviness in my bones remains. That guttural exhaustion and self-loathing rest beneath the surface of my skin. Therapy would mean pulling it out, addressing its existence, and I’ve just learned how to pretend again. Therapy would mean speaking of my past, opening up wounds I’m still attempting to bandage.
Seeing a therapist would mean telling the whole story, and maybe it’s not rational, but I’m terrified of the chance that they may look me in the eye and confirm all of my fears.
I am the villain, I am to blame, and there is no hope for me.
“I don’t need therapy.” I laugh, dodging the concern as I settle back into the couch and throw my legs on Leo again. “I have books, weed, and good orgasms. I’m doing great.”
I smile at my brothers, lying through my teeth.
17
VIOLE
“IMGONNAGETYOUBACK” - TAYLOR SWIFT
“You knowwe have that gallery auction up in Venice Beach this weekend. I’d love it if you came.” Everett wraps his arms around the back of Elena’s head as he tugs her against his chest.
She locks her hands around his lower back. “I’ll think about it.”
He laughs, pulling away. “That’s better than no.”
She’s swallowed up next by Leo, who presses his lips to the top of her head. “They always donate a portion of their proceeds to ocean conservation efforts. But they’re also working with the Hayes Foundation for this event, so some of the money will be donated in Zach’s name too.”
When Elena steps out of his arms, she blinks hard, eyes fixed on the floor. The information clearly rocks her, and she takes a brief moment to compose herself before responding.
“It’s black tie,” I blurt, forcing the attention from her to me.
All three of them turn my way. Elena swallows, studying my face, though I can’t read the expression on hers. Finally, she blinks and shakes her head. “That’s really cool of them. I’ll definitely try to come, okay?”
Leo gives her a closed-lip smile, and both of them say goodbye before heading out the front door. She lets out a deepsigh before padding into the kitchen and digging through the pantry.
“Don’t get their hopes up like that,” I say, though I didn’t mean to.
I’d definitely had the thought—that the moment Elena heard my brother’s name, she’d have nothing to do with the event—but there was no need to voice it.
She peeks out of the pantry door, bag of pretzels and a jar of peanut butter in hand, slamming it shut with her foot. “What do you mean by that?”
I shake my head, rubbing a tired hand down my face. “I don’t know. Sorry.”
I’ve been running a lot, and I pushed myself especially hard tonight. I’m fucking exhausted. It’s the only thing I can do to keep myself out of her fucking bed. This past week has been torturous. Despite my promise that we were only getting started, I’ve been doing my best to stay away.
Whatever happened that night in her bedroom was an awakening—for both of us, I think. I don’t want to see the aftermath of what happens when we cross another line, because it would surely be enough to kill me. It damn near did when I overheard her refer to the night as ravishing, admitting she’d been thinking about it all week. The satisfaction that coursed through my veins at her words could’ve set my fucking blood on fire. It took all my strength not to let the reaction show in front of her brothers.
