“Worried about you.”
“I’m not going to freak out,” I tell her. But I’m not sure if that’s entirely true. My head is full, and when I feel like this, I shut down and shut people out. I know this about myself.
“Okay.” She runs her nails up the back of my head, into my hair, and then drags them back down. “I’m so sorry about Devon. That must have been so horrible for you.”
I let my head drop forward. I knew this was coming. That this was a conversation I couldn’t avoid forever. That she would want to talk about it eventually.
“I think the worst part about the whole thing is all the memories I have of finding him like that.” I shake my head and clear my throat. “It overrides everything. All the good memories. And it doesn’t fade. I know people say it does, over time or whatever. But I don’t even have to close my eyes, and I can see his face. I can see exactly what he looked like. It was him, but so, so wrong. He was this horrible gray blue.” I scrub a hand over my face, trying to erase the image in my mind, but it doesn’t do any good. It’s there, and I can’t get it out now. “And like an idiot, I tried to wake him up. He was staring up at the sky, arms spread like he was making fucking snow angels. And the stupid bastard didn’t have the common sense to get his ass inside. And I didn’t have the common sense to tell him his phone didn’t matter.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’d give anything to go back in time and fix it.”
“I’m so sorry you have to carry that with you, Aaron.” She keeps doing that thing with her nails.
It’s soothing, and I don’t want it to be. I don’t want to be soothed. I want to hate myself because that’s what I deserve. Not her. Not this. “I stole him from his family and took them as mine.”
“Oh, baby, no.” Her palm comes to rest against my cheek.
“I did, though, Teagan. He should be here. I wish he was still here.” I would trade places with him. Give up everything if I could. “I wish you could have met him.”
“Me too. Then your heart wouldn’t be so heavy all the time,” Teagan says softly.
It scares me how clearly she sees me. How much I want this. Her. Even though I deserve none of it. “I can’t—” I shake my head. “I can’t talk about this anymore, tonight. Can we just . . . I don’t want to think.”
Teagan’s teeth sink into her bottom lip. “Is this one of those times when it’s better just to feel?”
I lick my lips, my mouth dry. “Yeah, it’s one of those times.”
“Okay.” She stands and extends her hand. “Let me help you with that.”
She leads me upstairs, and behind closed doors she distracts me from the demons living in my head. But I still dream.
Because those demons might quiet every once in a while, but they never go away.
CHAPTER 20
THE FIGHT TO GET IN
Teagan
We don’t leave for Pearl Lake until late in the afternoon on Sunday. I can feel his walls going back up over the course of the day. Shutting himself off like he does. I want to find a way to slip through the cracks, but I don’t know how yet. He’s quiet for the first part of the drive.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. Leaving is always hard.”
“Because you miss them or because of the memories?” I’ve been tiptoeing around him all day, worried I’m going to set him off.
“Both, I guess.”
“It must be hard for you, coming here and then having to go back to Pearl Lake and pretend like everything is okay when it’s not.” I want to find a way to show him I understand. “I know it’s not the same thing, but it’s tough when Bradley calls. I want to be there for him, but it feels a lot like a betrayal to Van. You’re caught between two worlds, and you don’t want to let anyone down.”
“Do you even want to talk to Bradley, or is it that you don’t want to turn your back on him?” Aaron asks.
I consider that for a moment before I say, “Everyone makes mistakes, and no one should be alone. He’s already isolated as it is; I don’t want to have a hand in making him worse when I’m already part of the reason he is where he is.” I want to find a way to relate, to show him I see him and that he’s not alone either.
“You’re not the reason he’s behind bars. He tried to frame your brother,” Aaron points out.
“But I feel like I’m part of the reason. I helped put him where he is, and whether or not he deserves it, I still feel bad, just like you.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds before he says, “Lydia likes to paint me in a much nicer light than I deserve. I know you want to believe I’m this good guy, Teagan, but your brother being behind bars isn’t the same thing. I’m the reason my brother is dead.” He looks out the window, his face obscured by his ball cap.
I want to tell him to give himself some grace. It’s not his fault that Devon died, but I know better than to say something like that to him, aware that his guilt is stronger than anything else. Just like my dad’s guilt over losing my mother ruled him for nearly two decades. He still blames himself for the way Bradley turned out, and I think he probably always will, even though Bradley made his own choices, much like Devon and Lydia did that night. And I’ll always feel some guilt over where Bradley is, even if it isn’t my fault.
“Do you truly believe that?”
“Yeah. He’d still be alive if I’d gone out with him to find his phone.”
“You couldn’t have known he wouldn’t make it back inside,” I say gently and reach across the center console to touch him.
He yanks his arm away. “It should’ve been me. I should have gone out there. Then Jamie would have a fucking father and Lydia wouldn’t be a single fucking mom and my dad wouldn’t be minus a goddamn son!”
“I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say to make it better, and I have a feeling that no matter what I say, he’s going to find a reason to beat himself up.
“Sorry isn’t ever going to bring him back, so it’s a pretty fucking useless thing to be.”
I don’t try to coax him to talk for the rest of the drive home. His comment stings, but I know it’s not me he’s angry with. It’s himself. For letting me in. For losing someone he loves. For sharing a piece of himself and making himself vulnerable in the process.
I barely have the car in the driveway, and he’s already hitting the release on his seat belt, and his hand is on the door. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Aaron.” I grab his wrist.
“I can’t do this with you, Teagan. It was a mistake to bring you this weekend.”
His words feel like salt in a fresh wound, but I steel myself, aware that this is him working through his own emotions. “I know that you’re going to shut me out, Aaron, and that I’m probably not going to hear from you at all this week. I understand that you need time and space, but I’m not the enemy. And I will be here when you’re ready to talk.”
“There’s nothing to fucking talk about.” He yanks his wrist free and bolts from the car, leaving his backpack in the trunk in his haste to escape. I leave it on the front porch and head home, my heart heavy.