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“What’s going on?” Dad asked.
“Your daughter was kissing her sister’s fiancé,” Mom spat angrily, hands clenched into fists.
“Umm, no, this is Brahms Ehrenberg, my boyfriend,” I corrected, baffled by her sudden fury. I almost reminded her that Iris was dead, but I didn’t.
“So you made one of my daughters fall in love, killed her, and now . . . you’re going for the other one?” Mom turned on Brahms viciously.
“You can jump in any time, Thatcher.” Brahms looked pleadingly at my dad.
“Get out of our house,” Dad demanded coldly. “You’ve overstayed your welcome. My daughter is off-limits.”
“Thatcher, I recommend you reconsider.” Brahms’s voice sounded like a warning. But my father’s stony expression didn’t waver.
“You heard him, get out,” Mom repeated sharply.
I stepped between them, hands raised imploringly. “Mom, please, you’ve got this all wrong,” I pleaded, my voice shaky.
“Wrong?” She scoffed, jabbing an accusing finger at Brahms. “That man is using you as a rebound since he lost his beautiful fiancée—Iris. You’re nothing to him.”
I recoiled as if she had slapped me. “They were never together,” I argued, upset by my mother’s attitude after months apart. What was she doing? I was utterly confused.
“If you don’t believe me, check the internet,” she challenged angrily, eyes blazing.
With dread pooling in my stomach, I fumbled for my phone with trembling hands and typed in their names. Immediately damning headlines popped up, each like a punch to the gut.
“Brahms Ehrenberg Still After Girlfriend’s Tragic Death: Rumor has it that he’s devastated and might never come back to play again . . .” by Noah Smith—The Daily New York News.
“Tragedy Strikes Ehrenberg Family—3 Dead in Fiery Crash” by Ryan Fields—The Seattle Everyday News.
“Ehrenberg Heir and Fiancée Iris Weathersfield Among Those Lost in Tragic Accident” by LyAnn Fields—Celebrity 411 (blog).
“Tragedy Strikes Celebrity’s ‘It’ Couple—Iris Weathersfield Perishes in Plane Crash. Brahms Ehrenberg might never recover.” by Chad Lynch—IndieRock and Beyond Magazine.
“Where is Brahms? Ehrenberg Heir Still Not Seen After Fiancée’s Death.” by Olivia Quinn—Weekly Entertainment Vlog.
“Love Lost: A Timeline of Brahms & Iris’s Relationship from First Sighting to Her Tragic End” by Rose Castro—Orange County Gazette.
My heart dropped as I scanned article after article. Brahms and Iris had been engaged? How could he not tell me? Why didn’t I know? I looked up at him with hurt and accusations in my eyes.
“You and Iris?” I mumbled, questioning not just the articles, but us. Our love. What about him saying he’d loved me for years? Had it all been lies so I would make him feel better about my sister’s death?
The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. He was my sister’s fiancé. How didn’t I know? I felt sick for betraying her trust, but also upset that she didn’t confide in me. I thought we were best friends.
I remembered a conversation where she mentioned the guy she was dating. “I can’t tell you who it is. It’s too complicated, but know I’m madly in love,” she had said, sounding so happy. And I had been none the wiser. Guilt and grief churned inside me. I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling utterly lost. How could I not have realized? If only she’d told me . . . maybe things would be different between Brahms and me.
“Not only that,” Dad cut in sharply, “but he was flying the plane that left me like this.”
“Thatcher, don’t do this,” Brahms said with a warning tone, clearly upset. “Say one more word, and you’ll regret it.”
“Are you going to let this man treat us—your only family—this way?” Dad challenged.
I felt like the ground was crumbling under my feet. The man I loved had deceived me in the worst possible way. He’d caused the accident that killed my sister and crippled my dad.
“You killed them?” I asked dumbfounded. “You were the pilot?”
“It’s not that simple,” Brahms said.
Tears burning my eyes, I pointed a shaking finger at the door. “Get out,” I choked out. “Just get out, Brahms. I don’t want to see you again.”
