nice right about now. Or a couple hits. Something, anything, to take the edge off.
“You lied to me.”
Fuck. I turn at the sound of my brother’s voice, to find him sitting in his chair at the edge of the foyer. “What’s wrong? Couldn’t you sleep?” I ignore the accusation he hurled at me, even as I desperately try to find an excuse that he’ll buy.
“Kind of hard to sleep with you and Z yelling at each other.”
Shit. I hadn’t realized we’d gotten that loud. “Sorry. Can I, uh, take you back to bed?”
“I can get myself back to bed,” he tells me, all fourteen-year-old attitude. “I’m not completely helpless, you know.”
“Of course I know that.”
He glares at me. “Besides, I don’t need help from a liar anyway.”
Goddamnit. “It’s not like that, Logan.”
“Not like what? You said you were just taking a break from boarding. You said you didn’t have the heart for it after Mom and Dad died. You said you’d go back to it next year, when the snow hits. You said—” He breaks off with a sob.
I’m across the room in a second, squatting down next to the chair so I can look him in the eye even as I curse myself. Curse Z. I want to hug him, but his body language is screaming at me to back off, so I settle for putting a hand on his knee—right up until I remember he can’t feel the touch anymore. Can’t feel anything from the waist down.
“I don’t have the heart for it right now, Logan. That’s the truth. Every time I even think about boarding, I see Mom and Dad and—”
“Me. You see me. Your pathetic little brother who is so sad, so selfish, that he can’t handle the idea of you snowboarding ever again just because he can’t. Right? You think I’m so weak, so pitiful, that you’re going to give up the only thing you’ve ever been good at for me.” He sounds angrier than I’ve ever heard him. “Do you think that’s what I want, Ash? Do you think that’s what I fucking want?”
“Of course, I don’t. But there’s a lot to consider right now—”
“Whatever,” he snarls at me, then wheels his chair around and starts booking it down thehallway. If I’m honest, I’m a little shocked at how fast he can move when he wants to.
I trail behind him, trying to get him to listen to reason, but he’s not having any of it. “I heard you, Ash. I heard everything you said. You think this is easy for me? You think I like the fact that my friends don’t know how to talk to me? That they don’t come over because I can’t go to the lake with them, can’t go swimming, can’t play fucking basketball without this wheelchair?”
Guilt crushes me at his words, makes me feel even more like a piece of shit than I already do. “Logan—”
“I get it from them and I take it because I have to, because I don’t have a choice and because I get where they’re coming from. They don’t know what to say or how to act around me or anything like that. But you … you’re my brother. I don’t need you to treat me like I’m different, too. Like I’m useless. And I sure as shit don’t need you to give up snowboarding for me.”
“I’m not giving it up for you,” I tell him, injecting a forcefulness into my voice that I’m far from feeling right now. “I’m giving it up because it’s the right thing to do. Because you matter more to me than any stupid sport ever will. I need you to understand that.”
“And I need you to understand that you matter to me, too. I don’t want you to be miserable because of me.”
“I’m not. Logan, I swear, I’m not.”
“Yeah, right. You think I can’t tell the difference in you? You think I can’t tell how much you fucking hate your life?”
“That has nothing to do with you!”
“Maybe not. But it has everything to do with snowboarding, and that has to do with me, so …”
Jesus Christ, when did my
little
brother get this fucking logical? This fucking smart? And when did I get so goddamned tongue-tied?
“You lied to me.”
Fuck. I turn at the sound of my brother’s voice, to find him sitting in his chair at the edge of the foyer. “What’s wrong? Couldn’t you sleep?” I ignore the accusation he hurled at me, even as I desperately try to find an excuse that he’ll buy.
“Kind of hard to sleep with you and Z yelling at each other.”
Shit. I hadn’t realized we’d gotten that loud. “Sorry. Can I, uh, take you back to bed?”
“I can get myself back to bed,” he tells me, all fourteen-year-old attitude. “I’m not completely helpless, you know.”
“Of course I know that.”
He glares at me. “Besides, I don’t need help from a liar anyway.”
Goddamnit. “It’s not like that, Logan.”
“Not like what? You said you were just taking a break from boarding. You said you didn’t have the heart for it after Mom and Dad died. You said you’d go back to it next year, when the snow hits. You said—” He breaks off with a sob.
I’m across the room in a second, squatting down next to the chair so I can look him in the eye even as I curse myself. Curse Z. I want to hug him, but his body language is screaming at me to back off, so I settle for putting a hand on his knee—right up until I remember he can’t feel the touch anymore. Can’t feel anything from the waist down.
“I don’t have the heart for it right now, Logan. That’s the truth. Every time I even think about boarding, I see Mom and Dad and—”
“Me. You see me. Your pathetic little brother who is so sad, so selfish, that he can’t handle the idea of you snowboarding ever again just because he can’t. Right? You think I’m so weak, so pitiful, that you’re going to give up the only thing you’ve ever been good at for me.” He sounds angrier than I’ve ever heard him. “Do you think that’s what I want, Ash? Do you think that’s what I fucking want?”
“Of course, I don’t. But there’s a lot to consider right now—”
“Whatever,” he snarls at me, then wheels his chair around and starts booking it down thehallway. If I’m honest, I’m a little shocked at how fast he can move when he wants to.
I trail behind him, trying to get him to listen to reason, but he’s not having any of it. “I heard you, Ash. I heard everything you said. You think this is easy for me? You think I like the fact that my friends don’t know how to talk to me? That they don’t come over because I can’t go to the lake with them, can’t go swimming, can’t play fucking basketball without this wheelchair?”
Guilt crushes me at his words, makes me feel even more like a piece of shit than I already do. “Logan—”
“I get it from them and I take it because I have to, because I don’t have a choice and because I get where they’re coming from. They don’t know what to say or how to act around me or anything like that. But you … you’re my brother. I don’t need you to treat me like I’m different, too. Like I’m useless. And I sure as shit don’t need you to give up snowboarding for me.”
“I’m not giving it up for you,” I tell him, injecting a forcefulness into my voice that I’m far from feeling right now. “I’m giving it up because it’s the right thing to do. Because you matter more to me than any stupid sport ever will. I need you to understand that.”
“And I need you to understand that you matter to me, too. I don’t want you to be miserable because of me.”
“I’m not. Logan, I swear, I’m not.”
“Yeah, right. You think I can’t tell the difference in you? You think I can’t tell how much you fucking hate your life?”
“That has nothing to do with you!”
“Maybe not. But it has everything to do with snowboarding, and that has to do with me, so …”
Jesus Christ, when did my
little
brother get this fucking logical? This fucking smart? And when did I get so goddamned tongue-tied?
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