Shit. I did.
He’s all puppy dog excitement and it’s hard to say no to him when he’s like this. He’s relentless in his pursuit of making me enjoy life, or whatever he’s trying to do. I’m making secret deals all over the place—one to die with Dean, and the other with Colter to live.
“You drive,” I say.
A few minutes later we’re in the back of his Escalade on top of a hill looking out into the city. There’s not much here, but what is, is beautiful. It spans for miles. The lights, the windmill shadows in the distance, the trees covering every part. The wind whips my hair into my mouth; I have to keep yanking it out.
I swing my feet under the bumper. “This is gorgeous. I can’t believe this is here in the middle of all this flatness.”
“I know.” He’s next to me, rocking his legs under the back of the trunk hatch. “I come up here to think sometimes.”
I’ve never asked him about his family and I don’t really know anything about him other than his brother killed himself and his mom’s a royal bitch. She worked with my dad and even though I’ve never met her, I’ve heard about her. I’ve been too caught up in myself. It isn’t fair. Maybe I shouldn’t find out more. If I get to know him too much . . . . “What was it like when Ryan died? I mean, for you?”
I hear him suck a breath in. “Hard. As you’d expect. I couldn’t believe he actually did it. I was so shocked. At first I couldn’t even cry. I just stared at the wall for days.” He grabs a soccer ball from the trunk, tosses it up in the air, and catches it. “You see someone every day and then they’re just gone. It’s such a weird feeling. When we lost my uncle to cancer, we watched it happen. He got thin, his skin grayed. We knew it was coming. But with Ryan? Once I started to realize he was depressed, I never really thought he’d go through with it. I was in denial for a long time. When I realized he was serious, I threatened to turn him in. He said, No one’s going to lock me up and I told him at least he’d be alive.” He drops the soccer ball and kicks it. It flies through the air and drops into a roll, crunching on the dirt. “He told me to stop pushing him. That he would do it if I didn’t stop.” He looks over at me, a film of tears forming in his eyes. “I never thought—if I’d known.” A determined expression falls over his face as he blinks the tears back into his eyes before they have a chance to fall.
My insides try to rebel and I fight not to touch him, to make him feel better in some way. “I’m so sorry.”
He gives me a knowing glance, shakes his head, and a puzzle piece snaps into place. He doesn’t have to say the words. He wants to save me, because he thinks if he does, he’d be saving Ryan.
“That had to be hard on your parents too.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t easy, but they stayed married,” he says, looking down at his shoes. “They pretty much have the perfect marriage now.”
“I’m glad for you.” My parents didn’t make it after Tate died.
“You know, I think they love each other more now. It’s kinda sick, really.”
“It’s not sick at all. It’s beautiful. I want that.” I can’t believe those words came out of my mouth. I want to take them back and shove them down my throat.
He glances sidelong at me. “You’ll get it someday.”
He sounds so sure of himself. Everything he says sounds like he has no doubt. His words are gospel. They never waver like mine. I let out a sigh. The sky is pinkish orange and the sun is huge, setting in the distance. The moon is peeking out the side of the sky, as if telling the sun to quit being a sky-hog.
“I’m not so sure I’ll be around to enjoy it if it does happen.”
His posture deflates. Nothing I say is ever right with him.
“I wish you knew how beautiful you were. If you believed it, I think you could be happier.”
“I don’t care about looks.”
“Yeah, I kind of figured that. But I was talking more about what’s inside you.”
“You can’t be serious. You’re one of those annoying glass-half-full people, aren’t you?”
He smiles, but doesn’t say anything. “I have something to ask you.” He looks nervous, running his hands in and out of his hair. “There’s this thing. My little brother, Atticus—”