“You’re still angry.”
“I am. But you need someone right now more than I need to be angry.” Her voice is gentle. “We’ll fight later. After you’re sober.”
“I’m sorry.” I manage to get the words out. “For everything. For lying. For—” My voice breaks. “For being this.”
“Shh. Just sleep, Roman.”
But I can’t sleep. Can’t close my eyes without seeing him. Can’t breathe without feeling the weight of five years of guilt crushing my chest.
“I should have been there,” I hear myself say. “Should have stayed. Should have known?—”
“You couldn’t have known.” Her hand finds mine in the dark.
“I should have. I’m his brother. I’m supposed to—” The words catch in my throat. “I was supposed to protect him.”
“I know.”
“He called me. The night before. And I—I was at some team dinner and I sent it to voicemail. Sent my baby brother to voicemail because I was at a fucking dinner.” The words are pouring out now, five years of them. “And the next morning. The call came and I?—”
I can’t finish. Can’t say the rest. Can’t admit I was too late. That I failed him. That everything I did wasn’t enough.
Marnie’s arms come around me and I feel her fingers card through my hair.
“I’ve got you,” she murmurs. “I’m right here.”
But even through the whiskey and the misery, I know the truth.
She’s here now. But I’m broken. And sooner or later, she’ll see that.
I don’t remember fallingasleep.
Don’t remember the dreams starting.
Just suddenly I’m there. In Matty’s apartment. But it’s wrong—the walls too close, the air too thick. Matty’s there but he’s not right. Something’s wrong with his face.
“You left me,” he says.
“I didn’t—I had to go?—”
“You knew.” His face shifts. Accuses. “You always knew.”
“No—”
He reaches for me and I step back but he’s closer now. Too close. Grabbing my arm.
“You failed me.”
“No!” I try to pull away, try to break free. “Let go?—”
“You let me die.”
“I didn’t know!” I’m fighting now, trying to get away, trying to?—
Something connects with my elbow. Hard. A sharp impact.
A cry of pain that’s not his.
The sound cuts through everything—thedream, the whiskey haze, the darkness.
