AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Tears trickle down my cheeks, recalling the night I said those very words to him as I crawled into his bed, desperate for him to chase my nightmares away.
Brant: I’m still that same boy who loves you with everything he is, who wants to be your comfort and your courage, and who would use his dying breaths to sing you your favorite lullaby. That kiss meant something, but it wasn’t everything. We’re going to move past it. We’re going to be bigger than it. We have to be…because we’ve already lost too much.
Three last words pop up, and I break down.
Brant: I love you.
Falling sideways onto my bed, I pull the covers up to my chin and squeeze Aggie tight, my heart seizing with both relief and fear.
Relief because we’re going to forget about it.
Fear because I’m not sure we can.
I stare at the bluebird on my wall with blurry eyes, thinking about that kiss, thinking about the wings it grew and how I tried to clip them.
Realizing and knowing that they may not rise…
They may not soar…
But clipped wings can still fly.
PART III
THE THIRD TRAGEDY
27
FIRST FIDDLE
JUNE, AGE 19
My tires roll to a stop in front of the chic nightclub on the other side of town called the Black Box. Brant is standing outside the main doors, leaning back against the iron-gray bricks, laughing with a cute blond with cat-eye glasses and an impressive figure. The woman looks like she’s laughing so hard she can’t catch her breath, doubling over with her palms clasped around black-leather-clad knees.
I bite my lip.
Pauly Marino opened the posh club a few months ago, determined to bring an air of decadence to our northwest Chicago suburbs. The club features renowned DJs, a magenta-lit bar, upscale appetizers made from scratch, and well…my brother, the lead bartender.
While Brant still works full-time at Bistro Marino as head chef, he offered to help Pauly out on the weekends slinging drinks and partaking of a semblance of a social life for once. I was surprised when he volunteered for the position, since Brant is all about food. But apparently, cocktails and culinary cuisine aren’t too far off. Brant says it’s all about nailing the flavor fusions, and if you can do one, you can do the other.
This has been good for him.
He’s been happier lately, smiling more, joking with me. His touches and hugs aren’t filled with doubt and disintegration like they were in those dreary autumn and winter months, as we fought to get back on track to who we used to be.
It feels like we’re finally “us” again, and I couldn’t be more thrilled.
So I’m not sure why seeing him so happy and carefree right now, lost in laughter with one of his coworkers, is causing my stomach to twist with knots.
I’m being foolish.
Shaking the weirdness away, I turn the car off and hop out, finally catching Brant’s attention.
His eyes glitter at me beneath the neon lights. “June.”
I feel as drab as can be in my baggy hoodie and leggings, my hair pulled up into a messy bun, and hardly any makeup painting my face. I look like a troll compared to the blond, who spins around, gifting me with a flash of perfect white teeth and an adorable crinkled nose.
“Oh, hey! Are you Brant’s sister?” She shakes off the remnants of her laughter as her light-blond hair is swept up in a sharp breeze. “He’s told me so much about you.”
“Good things, I hope?” I laugh lightly.
