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“I’d do that for most people, but it doesn’t mean that I love them. ”

“Oh. ” Oh. Then I have no idea what love is.

“What other things?” he prods.

Other things? Oh yeah, Ryan asked why Isaiah is mad at me. I shake my head back and forth, causing the straw to crackle. “You wouldn’t understand. My problems…” My mom. “My family isn’t perfect. We have problems. ”

Ryan chuckles and sips his beer.

I rise on my elbows. “What’s so damn funny?”

Ryan tilts back the beer and I watch his throat move as he swallows. He crushes the empty can in his hand. “Perfect. Family. Problems. Gay brothers. ”

We’re obviously not talking about me and Isaiah anymore. “You’re drunk. ”

“Good. ” Even inebriated, the ache I saw earlier while he was carrying me out of the Jeep darkens his eyes.

“Is that why you got defensive with the football asshole?” I ask. “Because you have a gay brother?”

Ryan tosses the can near the other empty ones and rubs his eyes. “Yes. And if you don’t mind, I’d prefer not to talk about it. Or talk at all. ”

“Fine. ” I can do silence. My arms fall over my head as I plop back onto the straw. Isaiah would let me talk. I could rattle on about anything…ribbons and dresses, and he’d placate me when I questioned whether I was too harsh with Noah. Sometimes I think about what life would be like if I gave Echo a break.

I mean, she does make Noah happy and Isaiah likes her. Sometimes she’s cool.

“You’re talking,” says Ryan. “In fact, you’ve been talking since you finished your first beer. ”

I blink and close my mouth, not having realized that I had verbalized a thing.

A black bird flaps its wings overhead, creating a shadow on the ceiling. Images of a deadly archangel coming to destroy us all enter my mind. The bird grows more agitated and the other birds fly to a beam on the opposite side of the barn. He takes off into the air and smacks the wall, dips down, flies across the barn, and rams into the opposite wall. My heart thunders with every hit. I watch with wide eyes and shaking hands. “We have to help him. ”

I jump up and stumble toward the barn door. Struggling for balance, I force one of the doors open with a loud creak. I lean against the frame and wait for the bird that’s damaging itself over and over again to escape. “Go! Get out of here!”

“Shut the door,” Ryan says. “Birds are stupid. If you want it out, you’re going to have to trap it and drag it out. ”

I gesture wildly into the open night. “But the door is open!”

“And the bird’s so panicked that it’ll never see the opening. All you’re doing is inviting your uncle to come in here and find us. Unless you’re ready to go home, close the door. ”

The bird smacks itself into the wall again and flutters to a nearby beam. He ruffles his feathers over and over again, then finally draws in his wings to rest. My stomach rolls in torture. Why can’t the bird see the way out?

“Who’s Echo?” asks Ryan.

“But the bird…” I say, ignoring his question.

“Doesn’t understand you’re trying to help. If anything, it sees you as a threat. Now, tell me, who’s Echo?”

I take a deep breath and close the door. I want the bird to find freedom, but I’m not ready to go back to Scott’s. Thanks to my impaired state, I half walk, half trip back to my bed of straw. Damn bird. Why can’t something be easy? “Noah’s girlfriend. ”

“That’s a screwed-up name,” he says.

I giggle. “She’s a screwed-up girl. ” I stop giggling and remember how Noah looked at her: as if she was the only person on the planet, the only person that mattered. “But Noah loves her. ”

That must be love: when everything else in the world could implode and you wouldn’t care as long as you had that one person standing beside you. Isaiah has it all wrong. For many reasons. He doesn’t love me. He can’t. For starters, he doesn’t look at me like Noah does Echo. Besides, I’m not worthy of that type of love.

The bird hides its head under its wing. I understand that feeling of wishing the world would go away. If I had wings, I’d hide underneath them too.

“It’s just a bird, Beth. It’ll find its way out eventually. ”

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