say it, but I had no plans to make it easy for him this time.
“Please, just let me talk to you.”
“Why?” I spun back. “It won’t change anything. All it’ll do is cause trouble I don’t need.”
“It’s not about us.” He blew out a wet sounding exhale, the next word croaked. “Please.”
That did it, and I felt my shoulders droop. I adjusted my T-shirt and gestured for him to follow me into the living room.
He slumped on the couch next to me, and I scooted back, trying to put a bit of space between us.
His lips pinched as he watched me, and then his head flopped into his hands, fingertips digging into his scalp. “His name was Mason, my brother. He was only eight when…” He stopped, and I heard a strange buzzing in my ears, felt my pulse thud in my neck. “We were playing outside on the driveway where we used to live.”
My hand went to my throat, and I struggled to breathe while I watched his back heave as his head lowered even more.
“He was on his scooter, and my parents were passed out on the couch after the bender they’d had the night before. It was a Saturday morning, so it wasn’t so busy. I told him to wait while I went inside the garage to find his helmet. And next thing I knew—” He groaned. “Fuck.” He drew in three breaths and seemed to hold them as he rushed out, “I heard him scream, and it-it… just cut off. Then a woman was screaming, and then sirens were screaming.” His hands were squeezing his head now, growled words gritted through clenched teeth. “Everyone was fucking screaming as my baby brother lay dead behind some woman’s SUV.”
Tears collected and pooled in my eyes, and I did my best to swallow them, but they slipped out, falling silently down my cheeks.
“There was so much blood, Clover. S-s-so much, and I tried.” He coughed, wet and loud. “I tried to wake him up, but people kept pulling me away from him, and then they took him in the ambulance. They took him away, and I never fucking saw him again.”
“Everett,” I started, not knowing what to say. If there was anything of value I could say.
Then he fell against me, his head landing on my lap and his arms winding around my waist. “You gotta understand. He was all I had, all I had that mattered.” He sniffed, his words tear-strained. “And then I met you, Hendrix—all of you.”
I ran my hand over his hair, feeling the grit, the sweat, and wondering when he’d last washed it. “Does this have anything to do with your outburst earlier?”
“Yes.” He was quiet a minute, the shaking of his shoulders crumbling my resolve. “Clover, his mom. Desiree Prince. She was the one who hit him. She was high, and I don’t even know. Apparently, she’s dead now, but she fucking killed him.”
My hand, my entire body, stilled, my eyes drying as all the dots joined.
Aiden’s mom committing suicide. High. The screaming. The guilt she would’ve felt… I looked toward my bedroom, to where Aiden lay sleeping.
Or did lay sleeping.
He was standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable in the dull lighting, staring at me and Everett.
Then he was gone.
Torn, I felt Everett shake again, his tears morphing into sobs as I gazed down at where his head was still buried in my lap. Aiden needed me, but Everett… he’d needed this for a long time. For years, given the way he’d kept running through life, running away from it, trying to outsmart the ghost’s intent on trailing him.
And so with guilt piercing thorn-laden tendrils into my heart, I smoothed Everett’s hair and rubbed his back while years of grief soaked my sleep shorts.
The rumble of Aiden’s Audi penetrated some minutes later, and I heard his car take off down the street.
“Hey,” Dad whispered, tapping me on the shoulder.
Forcing open my heavy eyelids, I squinted up at him and felt something draped over the bottom half of my body.
The lines around Dad’s eyes and across his forehead tightened with his scowl. His disapproval aimed at Everett’s snoring form. “What happened?”
“He didn’t tell you?” I whispered, remembering how they’d talked outside.
“Some, but judging by the noises he made with you some hours ago, not all.”
Everett groaned, rolling over and blinking his eyes open.
Shifting his hands to either side of my legs, he pushed himself up and to the other side of the couch