I Have Lived and I Have Loved - Willow Winters Page 0,7

at my lap because, honestly, why would I want to see their pity? I’d had to remind my little brother why he stood from the table. That wasn’t normal, and nothing about our visit was. We weren’t friends with these people. We barely knew them. We had no other friends or family here. I mean, I was pretty sure I was sort of friends with Ryan, but we weren’t there for a fun visit.

I could feel their attention. I hated it.

Willow had wanted attention. She and Robbie. But it was on me, and not in the way I’d always gotten it before. I was the laid-back one. The one who could joke. The one in the background. The one who everyone always forgot about. I was the steady one. That kind of attention—or lack of attention—was what I liked. This attention, I loathed.

It wasn’t mine to have. It had been forced on me.

Clearing my throat, I had to get out of there. I turned to Ryan. “Warcraft till my grandparents show up?”

He stood right away. “Hell yes.”

He was as happy as I was to leave that kitchen. I should’ve wondered why, but I didn’t.

We spent the rest of the day in his room, Robbie too, until the doorbell rang around seven that night.

Chapter Three

Shit got real once Grams and Grandpa Bill arrived.

There were tears. Hugs. Patting on the back, a lot of it. And that was between the adults.

“Have they met each other before?” Robbie asked me in a whisper. Once they turned to us, he stuck to my side. Still, he was almost mauled by Grams.

Ryan, who was leaning against the wall next to me, snorted but coughed to cover it when his sister shot him a dark look. It transferred to me before she seemed to remember why I was there. Her head hung, and she kicked at the floor. I couldn’t really blame Peach. I suppose I wasn’t like the other girls she knew. I mean, I wasn’t crying. I’d left her bed and had stuck like glue to her brother, and the few times she’d talked to me, I hadn’t been the most receptive. I wasn’t rude. But I didn’t respond to her the way she was clearly used to. That was Willow’s role. She’d been the social one, the engaging one.

The perfect one.

I folded my arms over Robbie, pulling him back against me, and rested my chin on top of his head. “No. I think Grandma needs to cry. That’s all.”

Robbie found my hands and held tight. “Grandpa looks like he wants to cry too.”

Standing off to the side, Grandpa Bill clutched a white cloth handkerchief in his hand. He always had one in his pocket, Grams insisted on it, but I’d never seen him use it before today. As Grams talked with Mr. and Mrs. Jensen, Grandpa Bill scrunched his nose, blinked a few times, and turned to the side. His hand came up before he turned back, and he blinked his eyes a couple more times. At the end he lifted his shoulders and rolled them back, as if he had to keep reminding himself to stand tall.

The conversation started to dwindle, and that was my cue to get ready.

I knew Grams’s questions for me would start soon.

Had I known? Did Willow say anything before it happened? Could anyone have done something to stop it? Did something happen that day? I sucked in my breath, already feeling the slap of each inquiry.

“Ouch, Kenz.” Robbie wiggled out of my hold. “You’re hurting my hands.”

I released him immediately, seeing white imprints where I’d been holding on to him. A wave of disgust rolled over me, and I replicated Grandpa Bill. Blink. Blink. Turn. I will not cry. I will not cry. Blink. Blink. I’m okay.

Lift your head.

Stand tall.

I can do this.

Robbie touched my hand, and his sympathy almost undid everything I’d shoved back. I was the strong one, that was what he said.

Head high.

I couldn’t cry. Not yet.

I gave Robbie a little smile, pretending to hit his shoulder. “Ready for the adult melodramatics?”

“Mackenzie!”

Grams had heard me.

“How crass and insensitive of you! Your sister died two days ago. Melodramatic? That’s what you call a grieving grandmother?”

I cleared my throat. “You’re right, Grams. How insensitive of me.” Willow hadn’t been her twin sister, her other half, her partner from the womb. How thoughtless I was.

“Mom?” Ryan straightened. “Are you guys going to talk for a while more?”

“Uh . . .” Mrs. Jensen glanced to Grams, the question