The attic creaks. Outside, the cicadas scream. Brett fiddles with the remote again, muttering something about skipping previews. The guilt in my stomach twists tighter.
Then…
Heavy footsteps on the stairs.
My heart stops, and I sit up, wide eyes on the door like the boogeyman is about to get us.
Brett’s grin spreads slowly across his face like a sunrise. “Perfect timing,” he says.
“Wait…” I scoot back a few inches. “What did you do?”
The attic door swings open, and Bowen appears in the low light, ducking under the frame. His brows are drawn tight, expression already annoyed.
“What the fuck is the emergency?” he asks flatly, eyes not straying from Brett. "You said he needed help."
My blood runs cold.
Brett shrugs from the floor. “He does.”
Bowen’s eyes slowly slide over to me. I do nothing but stare back, wide-eyed and frozen. It takes him half a second to realize what this is… a setup. A trap. And I’m the bait?
He lets out a harsh breath and rakes a hand through his hair. “Are you serious right now, dude?”
“You don’t talk to him,” Brett says, voice harder now. He stands and the chipper attitude from before falls away. What's left is someone who does not look happy. No, Brett looks pissed. Pissed and a little desperate. “And he doesn’t talk to you. And I’m so fucking sick of it. Sick of both of you hurting the other one's feelings. This is so stupid! This is the last summer we have before adulthood truly smacks us in the face, guys. I miss you both. I miss us all being together.”
Hurting?Bowen?
“You don’t get it. Brett—” Bowen grits out, blue eyes briefly flickering over to me.
“I do, actually. I’ve watched you both avoid each other for months. Years, really. Like you didn’t use to be and still fucking are best friends. Above everything else, you’re best fucking friends.”
Bowen flexes his jaw. “Stop acting like you know everything.”
“Then tell me!” Brett snaps, stepping closer to his brother. “Or better yet, tellhim. Because he thinks he ruined everything, Bowen. You blame yourself for it. You’re avoiding the truth, and—”
“Stop,”I say it loud, desperate, heart pounding so hard I can barely hear myself over it. “Please. Just stop.”
The attic goes quiet.
I look at Brett. “I didn’t ask for this.”
He looks back at me, and for the first time ever, he looks as crushed as I feel. Like the weight he’s been carrying for all of us has finally crushed his spirit.
“You never ask for anything, Kit. Isn’t that part of the problem? Just talk to him, please. Tell him…”
I shake my head. “I need air.”
“Kit, wait, I…” Bowen starts, lifts his arm towards me…
I can’t look at either of them. I hurry down the stairs with hands that won’t stop shaking. I don’t hear anyone follow me, not until I’m outside, sitting on the porch swing with my head in my hands.
Then the outside door slams.
A minute later, Brett’s Jeep roars to life.
And just like that, he’s gone.
Bowen
