Page 98 of Hard to Handle

“There’s been an accident, Jonah.”

“Hunter. Mom, it’s Hunter.”

“An accident. Your brother was in an accident.”

“What do you mean an accident?” I look at my mom and then to the officer. “What does she mean?”

“Your brother crossed the median and hit another car head-on.” His voice is serious but his eyes, his eyes tell me they’ve seen way too much, and I fear what he’s going to say next. I focus on the shield on his chest. The badge with the sun and rays of sunshine engraved on it. The letters of his last name, as I recite them in my head over and over and over . . . because if I stop, he’ll tell me my brother is dead.

He’ll tell me that my brother was drunk driving. That he was the responsible one. That when I refused to go get Mom, he went. He couldn’t refuse. He couldn’t say no. He drove to pick up our mom even though he’d been drinking.

Because I didn’t . . .

I was the screw-up. I didn’t pick up the fucking cell. His missed calls. Calls to tell me he couldn’t drive because he’d been drinking. And the officer would know. He’ll tell me that while I was having sex with my brother’s girlfriend out of spite, I caused this. I fucked up.

“Is he okay?” I can barely speak as my body blankets with goosebumps. My words feel like they have to be pried from my mouth as I stare at him and hope and wait and already know.

“He’s at the hospital. This officer—he picked me up from work to bring me there—to get you on the way—it’s very serious, Hunter. Your brother. He’s—and the other driver . . . she didn’t make it.”

I try to process.

I try to fathom.

I try to comprehend.

But none of it makes sense.

Except . . .

I caused this.

I’m the one responsible.

I’m the vindictive one.

I’m the one my mother thought she’d left at the hospital. Alone.

And then . . . I can’t sense Jonah. I can’t feel my twin.

I stare at the police officer as if I don’t hear him, as if I don’t want to hear him . . . then the bottom drops out.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

HUNTER

SOMETHING’S AMISS.

My head’s foggy.

My thoughts are lost.

I try to concentrate, but every time I try to manipulate the game plan, I fail.

Maybe I’m coming down with something.

Maybe this is burnout showing now.

* * *