There were very few things he wasn’t willing to give. It was easy to get selfish loving Brogan. He wanted the people he loved to have everything. In seventh grade, I punched him because I found out he kissed Emily Sauer and I had a crush on her. He just smiled at me, lip all bloody, and said, ‘Sorry, man. I didn’t know. Go get her.’ There were very few things Brogan went after in this world that he wasn’t willing to give to someone else.”
My eyes go to Mia, and she has her hand pressed hard between her breasts, as if she needs it there to hold her heart together.
“Very few things,” I repeat. I turn toward the casket. “Buddy, I’m sorry I didn’t get out of the way. I’m sorry I didn’t take the punch now and then and tell you to go after it.” I release a puff of air that’s supposed to be laughter and look at the ceiling as I bite back a curse. “I can hear him. Like he’s right here. I can hear him telling me it’s okay. That was Brogan. He’d forgive me. Even if I don’t deserve to be forgiven.”
My gaze lands on Mia. “I know he’d forgive me. He was always faster to forgive me than I was to forgive myself, but I’m going to try. For him. And you guys should, too. Let go of any of the regrets you had concerning Brogan, because he’d tell you that it’s okay. That’s the kind of guy he was.”
Mrs. Barrett steps up to the podium and puts her hand on my arm before drawing me into a hug. “Thank you,” she whispers. “I needed to hear that.”
I hug her back and my eyes lock with Mia’s. I hope my message got through to her. She’s not the one who did wrong, but I know she carries the weight of that night on her shoulders. I know Brogan wouldn’t want that.
Mia stands and comes to the stage as Mrs. Barrett releases me. The women look at each other, and Mrs. Barrett gives a sad smile and nods before turning to the mic.
“Now, Mia Mendez is going to sing for us. Brogan always loved to hear her sing.”
Mia avoids my gaze and stiffly takes her place behind the mic. I take my spot next to Chris as the organs plays the opening chords of “Amazing Grace,” and Mia opens her mouth and sings for the first time since New Year’s Eve.
* * *
The house is milling with guys from the team who wanted to hang out rather than go home after the funeral, but the only one I want to talk to right now is Coach.
I lock eyes with him and nod toward my dad’s study. I don’t wait for his response before I head down the hall and wait in there.
Less than a minute later, he joins me, closing the door behind him. “You have a houseful of people, and I’m not going to talk about this now.”
“We’re going to talk about it. I can’t keep this secret anymore. I tried. For you. But you cornered me. You put me in a horrible, unthinkable position by covering it up.” God, I wish he’d just understand. “It’s too heavy,” I say. “I can’t hold it anymore.”
“Is this about Mia?”
“No.” I grimace then shrug. “Yes. Kind of. It’s about everyone. It’s about doing the fucking right thing.”
“Arrow, I know you think going forward is the right thing—”
“It is. We can do it together. I’ll tell them. We’ll explain you were trying to protect me.” My voice squeaks. I’m a little boy begging for some attention from his father. “Don’t you understand? The only reason I haven’t gone forward is to protect you. I didn’t ask you to do what you did, and if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be carrying around this unbearable . . . Please. The truth is the only way I can get out from under this.”
He looks over his shoulder at the closed door of the study, as if someone might be standing there listening in to our conversation. “I know you think it’s the right thing,” he says when he looks back to me. “But it’s not. You have to think of the big picture here. You feel a little guilt off your chest, and then what? Everyone you love will know what you’re responsible for.”
“Would you stop acting like you’re doing this for me?”
“Fine, then. I’m not. This isn’t