Her face took on that stony look that I knew so well. She moved away from me, back to the passenger seat, the wall crashing back down, heavy and final.
I leaned forward and put my face in my hands.
I waited a few heartbeats before speaking again. “Can you at least start getting some sleep? If I go to the hospital, will you stay at my place and go to bed?” I looked back at her.
She nodded. “Josh?”
“What?”
“It’s quiet,” she said.
“What is?” I asked gently.
“My mind. It’s finally quiet. It’s only quiet when I’m with you.”
* * *
It took a long, emotional discussion with Claudia and her parents, but they agreed to take Brandon off life support tomorrow.
After our meeting at their house, his parents hugged me goodbye, and Claudia followed me out to the driveway. The sun was setting. The freeway hummed nearby. I dragged open the heavy white wrought-iron gate that enclosed their tiny East Los Angeles property.
Claudia had volunteered to stay the night with Sloan in the hospital so I could go home. I just wanted to get back to Kristen. I wanted to slip into bed with her, feel the relief of the sleep that I only found with her next to me.
“Thank you,” Claudia said as I turned back from the gate.
She was Brandon’s carbon copy. They had the same expressions, the same eyes.
I’d never see my friend’s expressions again. The thought hit me like a fist to the gut.
Claudia pulled her sweater around herself. “I don’t think they would have done it if you hadn’t come. It meant something to them that you said this was what he’d want.”
She hugged me and when she pulled away, she wiped at her eyes. “It’s hard to argue against faith. You can’t see it, you know?”
“You should try arguing against logic,” I said, clearing the lump in my throat.
She sniffed. “I’d argue against logic any day. Logic can be reasoned with as long as you have the facts. Good night, Josh.”
On the drive home, I caught rush-hour traffic. I sat there thinking about the meeting with Brandon’s parents. Horns honked. Red brake lights flashed.
I thought about Kristen, about how no matter how much I told her I wanted her, she didn’t waver. I wanted her to believe in my love for her, to put all her faith in something intangible, the way Brandon’s parents had believed in their prayers being answered. But Kristen wasn’t like that. For her, feelings weren’t grounds for decision making. She looked at this situation like she was a cool car that I couldn’t afford. Something I wanted because of the way it made me feel, not because I’d considered the price tag and made an educated decision to buy it. She was pros and cons, facts and numbers, black and white. Common sense. She was practical, and there was nothing logical about being with me.
Or was there?
Logic can be reasoned with as long as you have the facts…
I stopped breathing.
Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit!
I’d been making the wrong argument!
Suddenly I knew how to get through to her. I knew what I had to do.
It would take some time to pull it all together—a few weeks maybe. But I knew.
I smiled the rest of the way home, until I got there and saw her car was gone.
Inside, my laundry was washed and folded. The apartment was spotless and aired out. And the hoodie I’d given her all those weeks ago was folded neatly on the bed.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Kristen
I parked in Sloan’s driveway and used the key under the flowerpot to let myself in, like I did every day since the funeral two weeks ago. I kept saying I had to get a key made, but I never had the time. Between trying to run Doglet Nation while taking care of what was left of my best friend, my days were full.
I had begun to consider moving back in with Sloan. I didn’t see her ever not needing me here. Her mom tapped in sometimes. She did what she could. But she had a sixty-hour-a-week job, and Sloan’s dad lived two hours away. I was the last line of defense.
The house smelled like decaying flowers. I set Stuntman down and brought groceries to the kitchen and unbagged it all. Then I started tossing bouquets. She’d be able to start her own flower shop with all the empty vases.
Sloan’s bedroom door was closed. I let her sleep. Getting her out