I need him to want to stay.
Please, baby…
“Thank you for today, Bowen.” His voice is small, but strong. “You don't know how much that meant to me.”
“Don't thank me. I needed it, too.”
The crickets are starting to wake up, and the coming night is bringing a breeze with it. Kit's hair moves with the wind, and my fingers itch to run through it. “Did you mean what you said last night?”
I'm not sure which part he means, so I just nod. “Every word.”
“Me, too.” The silence stretches for a few heartbeats too long before he moves away from the truck.
I love you, Bowen.
I love you, Bowen.
Kit walks back to his parents’ house with his head down, and I've never hated anything more.
I stop the truck at the stop sign down the street and scream, beating my hand against the steering wheel.
I suck in a shattered breath down the road. In. Hold. Out.
I turn the truck around in an empty parking lot and tug at my hair by the root until my scalp is screaming in pain. I pull back out the way I was headed.
I don’t even make it to the highway. I drive the truck down one road after another until I pull off the asphalt completely and cut the engine. I ignore the thick silence and lean over, grabbing what I need from the glove compartment before stepping out into the night.
The owner of the property has allowed nature to swallow up this corner. Tall grass and weeds cover the area, but they’re not tall enough to hide themangled tree in the midst of the few other perfect ones off the side of the road.
The bark on one side is darker from damage, but the years have smoothed out the worst of the rough edges. I fall down on the worn patch in front of the tree and pull my knees up.
The night is warm, not a cloud in the sky.
The bag crinkles when I tear it open and shake some of the Cheetos out in the grass next to me. I bite into one for traditions sake, but chew slowly. It may as well be saw dust on my tongue.
The breeze cools the wetness on my face and I close my eyes, thunking my head back against the trunk.
“Laugh it up, asshole. I know you are.” I swallow thickly and set the bag down, wiping my clammy hands down my legs and trying not to choke on my heart that’s lodged in my throat.
“I can’t fuck it up this time, Brett. Don’t let me fuck this up.”
Dear B,
It's been 1888 days since you were taken from us.
1888 days of missing you.
1888 days since I ran away from a boy who I loved, thinking he could never want me.
1888 days since that boy lost his twin.
1888 days.
That many sunrises and sunsets. I don't know on which sunrise I lost myself, or which sunset I craved finding me again.
I don't know which sunrise saw the first burned cabin wall. Or what kind of sunsets he's had.
But it was two sunrises ago that I watched Bowen crack and stepped inside his heart. Two sunrises ago, your brother chased me to the lake and dove in to get to me.
