I could write one to Brennan.
Sure, I could just talk to him out loud, but something about that always felt a little tooGhost Whispererto me. But a letter…that was something I could do.
I dug a pen from the junk drawer, carrying it and the notebook back to the couch. Binx gave me the stink eye for disturbing him as I sat on the floor with my back against the sofa and the composition book open on the coffee table. I leafed through until I found the next blank page.
Should I write the date in the corner? Does that matter? God, McKenzie, it’s not like Brennan is actually gonna read this, and even if he could, he wouldn’t give two shits about what date it is.
I tapped my pen against the paper for a moment, then silenced the music playing on my phone until the only sound left was that of the thoughts bouncing through my brain. What was I so worried about? It wasn’t like Brennan was going to be looking over my shoulder, reading every word, replying to my unanswerable questions or feeling like he had to comfort me as I told him how much I missed him. But maybe that was exactly what had my stomach twisted in knots. What if I wrote the letter and didn’t feel his presence at all?
I blew out a breath and poised my pen over the notebook one more time, attempting to quiet my mind.
You can do this. It’s not the next great American novel. It’s just a letter. Write something.
I closed my eyes for a moment and pictured Brennan the way I remembered him—tall and lanky, no longer a boy but not quite a man, with dark hair and green eyes that matched my own. I imagined him leaning against the doorway of my childhood bedroom the way he used to do when he’d ask how my day was, pretending he cared about my friends’ latest drama because he knew it mattered to me.
Finally, I began to write.
Dear Brennan,
I hate everything about this. That the only way I can speak to you is through letters you’ll never get to read. But that’s where we are.
Time is weird. Because the longer you’re gone, somehow the years feel shorter, and the time that stretches between when you were here and when you left almost seems to shrink. I guess it’s because time slips by faster the older I get. Do you remember those lazy summer nights when we were kids? We’d spend hours catching lightning bugs, scooping them into mason jars before setting them free. Or Sunday evenings watching America’s Funniest Home Videos together while we drank homemade milkshakes. I swear time stood still back then. Minutes felt like hours.
Everything we wanted to do felt so far off. At first, we wished for our birthdays, for Christmas, for spring break. Then we started wishing to be grown-ups, to be independent, to be on our own. I just never thought that I’d truly be on my own—that you wouldn’t be here, doing life with me. I wouldn’t have wished so much time away if I’d known how little I had left with you.
We had so many plans, Brennan. You were gonna play in a band while I worked in a bakery, and together we’d scrounge up enough cash to spend a summer traveling the country with nothing but a couple backpacks, sacks filled with enough candy to rot our teeth out, and My Chem blasting through the speakers. We’d get tattoos, and Mom would pretend to be horrified, but she’d secretly love them. You wanted to be a dad one day, to be the father we never had growing up. You would’ve been the best dad, and we both know I would’ve been the best aunt ever. But that’s not how it happened, and some days I’m still angry at you for it.
It doesn’t make me feel good to admit that, but there you go. You abandoned our plans for one of your own. But more than that, you abandoned me. I know you didn’t mean to, but that’s how it felt. How it still feels sometimes.
You’ve missed out on so much of my life, and I might be able to get past that if losing you hadn’t causedmeto miss out on it too. Do you know how hard it’s been for me to let people in? I live in constant fear of a phone call, a single sentence, taking away the people I care about. And that’s why I never allowed myself the luxury of loving someone. But then I met Luca, and I didn’t have a choice. And even if I did, I think I still would have chosen him because he makes me feel things I never thought I’d feel. He gets me in a way no one else does.
I love him so much it terrifies me. Because what if I lose him like I lost you?
You were my best friend. I know Dad leaving affected you more than it did me because you were older at the time, but still you did everything you could to soften the blow. You played with me as much as I wanted, even when I got on your last nerve. You never turned me away. I guess it hurts so much because you were my safe place. You weren’t supposed to leave. We were supposed to always have each other.
Maybe you didn’t tell me what you were going through because you wanted to shield me from your pain. You always tried to protect me. But the one thing you couldn’t protect me from was losing you.
If I could go back to those endless summer nights, even knowing how it would all end, I’d go willingly. I’d lose you all over again if I got to love you a moment longer. Maybe there’s a lesson somewhere in all this. Because if I knew then that I was going to lose you, if I knew there was an expiration date, I wouldn’t love you less or distance myself. If anything, I’d love you more. I’d stay up later on those summer nights, collecting little glimmers of your laughter and your smile. I’d watch you glow in the darkness all over again, even knowing that one day I’d have to set you free.
I’ve beaten myself black and blue thinking I could have done something differently. That I could have saved you. But I’m not that powerful. Or maybe power has nothing to do with control. Maybe it’s the ability to enjoy the light while it shines and then let it go.
All I know for sure is that I can’t keep carrying this around anymore because it’s suffocating me. There’s so much light I’m missing because this weight on my chest keeps pushing the air from my lungs and blowing it out. So, it’s time for me to forgive us both. I want to remember the fireflies and the way they shimmered. I want to remember the way they rose toward the sky once they broke free from the confines of the jar we kept them in.
And I’ll remember you that way too, Brennan.
I love you.
Tears fell from my eyes, blurring the ink as I signed my name. I sucked in a breath and I tore the pages from the binding, folding them into thirds. Maybe I’d take the letter to his gravesite and tuck it into the vase that sat atop his marker. Perhaps I’d hold onto it and revisit the words when I needed to. Or maybe this would be the first of many letters to Brennan, where I’d write down glimmers from my own life for him.
Maybe these letters to my brother would become therapeutic like a journal or the songs Luca wrote. Putting pen to paper seemed to help him—maybe it could help me too. If nothing else, it would serve as a record of all the lights in my life. When Brennan and I finally saw each other on the other side, we’d have years to catch up on. I wanted to make sure I didn’t leave anything out.
THIRTY-TWO
Luca
It was around10 p.m. the night of our family dinner. Everyone else had already left Jax and Liv’s for the evening except Ella and Cash. We were all sitting around talking, making sure to keep our volume low so as not to disturb the children sleeping upstairs. Mama, Liv’s sassy tuxedo cat, was curled up in Jax’s lap.
“This is wild,” I said, glancing at the faces surrounding me. “It seems like yesterday when Jax met Liv, and we all became friends.”
