“It didn’t matter then, who I was,” he said quietly. “I didn’t expect you to come back. I didn’t expect Phoebe to come up with this plan, or convince us to follow through on it.”
I raised my head, glaring at him through burning eyes. “Think very carefully about the next words out of your mouth because if you eventhinkabout putting this on Phoebe, no amount of morphine on earth will help you.”
“No! No, that’s—I didn’t mean it like that.” He swallowed hard, his uninjured hand trembling as he raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m just saying this whole thing caught us off guard. The trip, you and me… it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
“But it is. It’s been like this for days. Forweeks.”
“I haven’t talked about him since he died. It’s been almost two years and I can barely get the words out.”
“That’s not an excuse,” I said feebly, through an unbearable pang of sympathy. I spent nine months without the luxury of living in grief, setting it aside to take care of my sister. I didn’t have a choice. Dex made his choices. He lied to me, and to Phoebe, for weeks. It felt the cruelest joke, to have something good dangled in front of me only to discover it was a mirage.
“I’m not trying to excuse what I did. I’m trying to explain.” Dex let out a jagged breath. “You have every right to be mad. But I’ve never lied to you, Violet. Everything I told you. Every moment we had since this started was real.”
“Every moment was under the umbrella of a lie. That’s not real,August. It’s bullshit.”
He groaned, ducking his head in his hand. “This went so much better in my head. I wish I wasn’t high.”
I stared at him, a tear slipping out. I couldn’t begin to wrap my head around this, but I hated how much sense it made. Pieces snapping into place in every mysterious corner of the puzzle. Phoebe’s words regarding Dex’s joy at the bar swept through the chaos in my mind:A broken heart doesn’t do this. In retrospect, the truth felt obvious. Grief, on the other hand, had a ruthless tendency to stalk, reap, destroy. I’d looked at him and had the thought that we were the same, and it still didn’t click. I felt like a fool.
Part of me wanted to book a flight back to Boston. Another wanted to reach for him because his grief was so familiar.Familiar, I quickly reminded myself,but not the same. Even at my worst, those nights I couldn’t drag myself into bed, staring at the ceiling from the floor with tears streaming to my ears, begging the universe for one more minute with my dad so he could reassure me that I wasn’t fucking everything up for Phoebe, I never would’ve allowed someone to spend weeks at my side, in my bed, in every nook and cranny of my brain, without letting them first know who I was. I’d clawed my way through hell while hoisting Phoebe above my head. I did that. And Dex let himself drown rather than tell me the truth. He let me drown with him.
His dark eyes found mine, willing me to hear him out, as if a million moments didn’t exist between our meeting and now where he could have come clean. I realized now that he’d tried in that Wyoming hotel room, all the talk about closure while letting me believe this trip was inspired by a broken heart. Catalina wasn’t a heartbroken woman, but a woman destroyed, and we were in possession of the last words the man she loved would ever say to her. All this time I’d spent wondering if Dex was in love with her or what kind of mistakes he’d made… how fuckingshallow. If only he’d been honest from the start—I would’ve done everything the same, only now it wouldn’t be warped like plastic in the sun.
With effort, I pushed myself to my feet. “Phoebe’s waiting,” I mumbled, heading for the hall.
“Violet, come on,” he said. I quickened my pace, sneakers squeaking. “You can’t walk away. We haven’t settled anything.”
“I’m trying to wrap my head around this. Around youlyingto me this whole time.”
“A name is a name!” He caught my arm and I wheeled around to face him, fire burning its way up my neck. “It’s not who I am. You know who I am.”
I wrenched my arm out of his grasp. “I know what you want me to know. This whole time, I thought you were someone else and you were fine with that.”
“What do you want me to say? I’m sorry that when three strangers came searching for my dead brother, I didn’t tell them he overdosed in a fucking bar?”
Another gut punch. “No. God. I’m sorry. I just—I need to not look at you for, like, forty seconds.”
I kept walking. He kept up. “I tried so hard to stay away. I didn’t want anything to happen between us until you knew, but you’re so incredible and when I realized you wanted me… Fuck, Vi, I couldn’t resist. I’m so sorry,” he said, a note of anguish rising in his tone. “You said you want to know me. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. I’ll give you a long-form interview if that’s what you need. I’ll do it.”
He was saying the magic words for the Violet I was two weeks ago, three days ago, an hour ago. I’d wanted him towantme to know these things about him, not barter them in an attempt to smooth over the jagged edges of grief when I was already bleeding.
I pushed through the double doors into the waiting room where Phoebe was distracted by the tropical fish, one of the sticker books she’d gotten to decorate her Polaroids clutched in her hand. I slowed, far enough away so she couldn’t hear, and looked at Dex. “I can’t do this right now.”
His shoulders sank in an exhale. “Violet.”
“I’m so sorry about your brother.” My voice broke, a real wave of tears unleashing at the shine in his eyes. “I get the grief. You know I do. I could’ve been there for you, if you let me. But right now, I have nothing else for you. I was honest with you. I trusted you. And you didn’t even tell me your name.”
I wiped my eyes and left him standing at the doors. Phoebe glanced up as I approached, her face falling as she took me in, and even further when her eyes snapped over my shoulder to Dex.
“Is everything okay?”
“We have to talk,” I said briskly, heading for the exit. “Let’s go.”
The doors opened, the crisp sunshine violent. Dirt cracked under our shoes as we made our way across the parking lot. My head pounded, eyes burning, my heart so heavy I couldn’t remember what it felt like to fit comfortably inside my chest. Phoebe kept shooting glances at me and over her shoulder, waiting for one of us to explain. I gave myself the walk to the car; a few more seconds of Phoebe’s happiness before we ripped the rug out from under her. It wasn’t fair. And I hated myself for putting Phoebe in the position to lose someone else she cared about.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Dex had said.
I remembered leaving the hospital after my dad died, how I existed outside of my body, autopilot taking over. Now, I’d do anything for a semblance of separation from the ache. I feltevery step, every breath, every agonizing thought that seemed to contradict the last.
