for Danny, not that they care what I have to say about it. There are so many things I could tell them. Terrible, horrible things, but I know they wouldn’t hear me. Oh, they’d pretend they were listening, but my words wouldn’t sink in. Besides, my parents don’t really talk. My dad works too much. My mom . . . I don’t know what she’s doing, but I have my suspicions. She’s drinking too much. Drowning her sorrows.
I don’t know how to help her. I don’t want to. It’s incredibly selfish of me to think that way, but I can’t help it.
“Belinda Lambert called me,” she said. “You remember Parker Lambert, right? He was right in between you and Danny, graduated high school the year after your brother did.”
Frowning, I try to place him but I can’t. Sometimes all those kids I went to school with morph into one big blur. And I went to school with pretty much all of them from kindergarten through senior year of high school. Funny how they’re all just a mass of faces now, not a one of them really standing apart. “Why are you calling me in the middle of the night to gossip about local boys?”
She lets loose an irritated sound. I wonder if she’s drunk. It’s not quite two a.m. Has she been at a bar? I sort of can’t imagine it, but then again, I can. She’s done this before. And besides, weirder things have happened these last few years. “I ran into his mom at the Buckhorn. Parker died in Afghanistan, ju—just like your brother.”
Oh God. She’s definitely drunk, considering she was at the Buckhorn, the bar where all the locals hang out in Shingletown, where I grew up. “When . . . when did it happen?”
“A few days ago. Belinda’s devastated. Just devastated.” She hiccups and sobs at the same time and I settle on the edge of the bed, hanging my head as I listen to her go on. Crying over Danny, crying for Parker.
Crying for herself.
She used to call me like this a lot, right after Danny died. I’d worked late-night shifts at one of the diners in the next town over, a real tourist trap where I kept busy, worked plenty of hours, and made great tips. She would call me on my thirty-minute-plus drive home, a little drunk from the wine she consumed too much of at dinner and crying. Always crying over the loss of Danny and how unfair life was.
I’m sick of it. Yes, I miss my brother, but it’s been almost two years. Why can’t everyone just . . . move on? He would be furious to see everyone act like this, especially Colin. I left home for this very reason, and here I am all over again. Surrounded by sadness and despair. I need a change of scenery. I need to find myself without the dark cloak of my brother’s untimely death hanging over me.
As I finally hang up with my mom and crawl into bed without going back to Colin, I realize now more than ever that I need my freedom.
The healing butterfly tattoo on my neck is becoming more and more representative of my life as every day passes.
Chapter 6
Colin
We’ve gone back to the way we were, Jen and I. Those few days after she gave her notice and confessed that she wanted me and I basically refused her, those two nights in my bed . . . all of that’s forgotten. We’re back to her working, me working, and the two of us living together but never really talking.
It’s been a week. She’s leaving me in three. To find out what’s going on in her life, I eavesdrop on her conversations with others at The District like a desperate loser looking for any glimmer of information. They’re all curious as to why she’s leaving, and why I’m not reacting. They all think we have a secret thing and we’ve never really deterred them from thinking otherwise.
More like I’ve never deterred it. I know how hot she is. Guys would be all over her if they thought they had a sliver of a chance. So I glower every time I catch any guy approaching her. Putting all of my past ‘I’m a protective big brother, don’t touch her’ skills from when she was a
I don’t know how to help her. I don’t want to. It’s incredibly selfish of me to think that way, but I can’t help it.
“Belinda Lambert called me,” she said. “You remember Parker Lambert, right? He was right in between you and Danny, graduated high school the year after your brother did.”
Frowning, I try to place him but I can’t. Sometimes all those kids I went to school with morph into one big blur. And I went to school with pretty much all of them from kindergarten through senior year of high school. Funny how they’re all just a mass of faces now, not a one of them really standing apart. “Why are you calling me in the middle of the night to gossip about local boys?”
She lets loose an irritated sound. I wonder if she’s drunk. It’s not quite two a.m. Has she been at a bar? I sort of can’t imagine it, but then again, I can. She’s done this before. And besides, weirder things have happened these last few years. “I ran into his mom at the Buckhorn. Parker died in Afghanistan, ju—just like your brother.”
Oh God. She’s definitely drunk, considering she was at the Buckhorn, the bar where all the locals hang out in Shingletown, where I grew up. “When . . . when did it happen?”
“A few days ago. Belinda’s devastated. Just devastated.” She hiccups and sobs at the same time and I settle on the edge of the bed, hanging my head as I listen to her go on. Crying over Danny, crying for Parker.
Crying for herself.
She used to call me like this a lot, right after Danny died. I’d worked late-night shifts at one of the diners in the next town over, a real tourist trap where I kept busy, worked plenty of hours, and made great tips. She would call me on my thirty-minute-plus drive home, a little drunk from the wine she consumed too much of at dinner and crying. Always crying over the loss of Danny and how unfair life was.
I’m sick of it. Yes, I miss my brother, but it’s been almost two years. Why can’t everyone just . . . move on? He would be furious to see everyone act like this, especially Colin. I left home for this very reason, and here I am all over again. Surrounded by sadness and despair. I need a change of scenery. I need to find myself without the dark cloak of my brother’s untimely death hanging over me.
As I finally hang up with my mom and crawl into bed without going back to Colin, I realize now more than ever that I need my freedom.
The healing butterfly tattoo on my neck is becoming more and more representative of my life as every day passes.
Chapter 6
Colin
We’ve gone back to the way we were, Jen and I. Those few days after she gave her notice and confessed that she wanted me and I basically refused her, those two nights in my bed . . . all of that’s forgotten. We’re back to her working, me working, and the two of us living together but never really talking.
It’s been a week. She’s leaving me in three. To find out what’s going on in her life, I eavesdrop on her conversations with others at The District like a desperate loser looking for any glimmer of information. They’re all curious as to why she’s leaving, and why I’m not reacting. They all think we have a secret thing and we’ve never really deterred them from thinking otherwise.
More like I’ve never deterred it. I know how hot she is. Guys would be all over her if they thought they had a sliver of a chance. So I glower every time I catch any guy approaching her. Putting all of my past ‘I’m a protective big brother, don’t touch her’ skills from when she was a
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