19
Harrison
I stompedto the car and threw open the door, trying to decide where to even start my search. My brain moved so fast I couldn’t pin down a single thought. Fear over George. Frustration with Frankie. Fury with her sister. Collette, not even being a second thought to her own mother. It all piled and twisted on top of each other, tangling like Jack’s beanstalk in my mind as I tried to make a plan.
“Where are you, George?” My voice shook as I spoke out loud.
It had been hours since Joey had last seen him. He could have wandered into the surrounding forest and fallen down a slope. He could have stepped into the nearby interstate. A hundred worst-case scenarios piled up, each more awful than the last. How could anybody be so irresponsible? How could Frankie accuse me of anything when it was her spoiled, selfish sister who caused this?
A sudden icy truth washed over me.
Because it was my fault.
I pushed her into going to the festival today. I distracted her when she might have normally called to check in. OrIshould have checked on them. This wasn’t on Frankie. It was on me and Joey. But even I should have known Joey couldn’t handle both of them. She was a woman who cared only about herself. I shouldn’t have pushed Frankie to leave. I shouldn’t have tried to convince her it would be okay. I just wanted her to smile. I wanted her to live for herself, even for a few hours, without feeling responsible for every person.
Once again, I’d mucked everything up just by trying.
I distracted her because that’s what I was—a useless distraction. It was all I was good at and all I would ever be.
A soft light from around the side of the house drew my attention. Was the outside light for the pool house always on? It hadn’t even occurred to me to check the pool house.
I rounded the house on a tear, and relief flooded me so fast my knees almost gave out as the casita came into view. The lights were on inside, and soft music drifted from the windows. I jogged the rest of the way down, shocked at my reaction and how utter my terror had felt. Through the curtains, George sat on a chair, staring into space.
I sent a text to Frankie rather than call like I preferred. I found I wasn’t ready to talk to her on the phone.
“Found him. Everything’s okay.”
I knocked on the door as I walked in. His head shot up, and he blinked at me with cloudy eyes.
“Oh, Adam. I lost track of time. Are they waiting for me?” he asked after a few moments too long.
“Harrison. I’m Harrison,” I corrected, but the residual tension of the last half hour made my words sharp.
“That’s what I said,” he snapped back just as sharply as fear and confusion made his defenses rise.
I took a deep breath and steadied myself. He reflected my mood. He wasn’t sure what to feel when in this state, so he absorbed the emotions of the people with him. I had to shake this anger. I wasn’t mad at him, after all. It wasn’t his fault his brain tricked him. It was my fault for not correctly handling the situation.
The tiny house consisted of a bed, a simple desk, and a kitchenette in the corner. Just off this area was a half bathroom and shower we would always use as kids. It had been renovated since then, but I still distinctly remembered shivering and being soaked, running in here to use the loo as fast as possible before going back out and cannonballing back in the pool. So many happy memories from this place. All thanks to this man.
I smiled and released the tension in my muscles. “This is a snazzy tune. What’s this song?” I gestured to the record player on the desk. Soft, crooning music filled the air. A slow version of a popular classic.
George sat back and closed his eyes. A shaky smile turned up his lips as he rocked gently back and forth. “‘Fly Me to the Moon.’ By … Well, it doesn’t matter.” He waved his hand in the air. “William and I used to dance to this all the time.”
“He was a great dancer,” I said.
“That he was,” he said, still smiling. “He’d play this song whenever we had a spat. It was his white flag. We fought so much back in the beginning.” He sighed loudly. “God, what I wouldn’t give to fight with him again.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said roughly.
“I miss him every day.” George’s voice was as watery as his eyes. “Sometimes I feel the loss of him, like a task left unchecked, so I stop and look around like I was meant to be doing something? Then I realize it’s the aching loss of him that I’m feeling. Like my body remembered before my mind caught up.”
I couldn’t speak, my throat was so tight.
“I don’t want to forget him. I’m afraid of so many things, but that scares me most. I can’t forget him,” George said, surprisingly calm for my turbulent sadness.
I took a shaking breath in and forced myself to get it together. “You won’t. You never will.” I swore it, though I could never promise something like that. “I will never let you forget. I will play this song, and you will remember the dancing.”
George nodded over and over, tears gleaming in his red eyes. “Good. Good. Such a good boy.”
