I nodded. “Okay, it’s . . .”
Paityn’s phone rang, effectively saving the day. She frowned. “What’s up, Asa?”
My gaze flashed to her, and before I could stop myself, I asked, “Is he okay?”
Paityn eyed me, a frown on her face. Then, the first tear fell. And I knew.
“Baby Boy, I’m so sorry. Where are you?” She wiped her cheek, but the tears were falling unchecked. “I’m coming to you.”
My throat closed as dread and sadness expanded in my chest.
“Okay,”—she nodded rapidly—“okay. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“Gemma?” Her chin trembled. “She’s dead.”
three
TRAGIC
LARISSA
Paityn was on autopilot. On the forty-minute drive to Asa’s place, she’d asked Siri to call each of her family members to break the sad news. The Bluetooth speaker ensured that I’d heard every sniffle, every question in disbelief. Each conversation cut deeper because I had the chance to see Gemma, to hear her voice, to hug her. But I ran away, slinked away from accountability all while telling myself that I’d done it to preserve my privacy. I left before I could tell her I loved her one last time.
“Are you okay?” Tyn asked, glancing at me.
I was so engrossed in my own thoughts, I hadn’t realized that the car stopped and we were parked in Asa’s driveway. “I’m just trying to process this.”
Death was a part of life. I’d always believed that, so usually, I was the person my family turned to when someone died. I’d contacted funeral homes, planned services, and handled estates. When my grandfather died, I’d held his hand. When my childhood friend lost a battle with leukemia, I organized a fundraiser to help his mother with burial costs. I was twelve. When my favorite aunt passed away, I styled her hair for the service. Yes, I grieved for them, but I knew there was nothing I could do to change things, to rewind the clock. I knew the only way to honor their memory was to live a full life.
Then, Zeke died.
I didn’t think I would survive the excruciating pain that settled in my body as I attempted to play my designated role. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, let alone Asa. Because he would essentially have to bury his sister. Gemma was as important to him as Paityn, Dallas, Blake, and Bliss. And my heart ached for him. For all of us.
Gemma was too young, too full of life. And that baby . . . Ezra was everything to her. And she was his whole world. It felt unfair, like a cruel joke. Like the fuckin’ slick roads that facilitated my brother’s death. To lose someone who still had so much to give to this world was devastating. A tragedy that would leave an indelible mark on everyone who loved her.
I wiped my face with my sleeve. “I still can’t believe it.”
Tyn rubbed my knee. “I know.”
Gathering my purse and the food I’d brought from my house, I whispered, “Ready?”
Paityn stared out the window. “I don’t want to go in there,” she confessed softly.
Shifting in the car seat, I turned to face her. “We have to, Tyn.”
“I can’t see him like that,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “Because I can’t protect him from it.”
Paityn took her role as big sis seriously. She never hesitated to be there for her siblings. She remained steadfast during the toughest times of their lives because she wanted to ensure they had strong support.
“You should’ve heard him.” She twisted the tattered tissue in her hand. “He sounded so . . . broken.”
My chest tightened. “He’s strong, Tyn.” My voice sounded unfamiliar to my own ears. “He’s a Young.”
She glanced at me, letting the tears fall unchecked. “Butshemight as well have beenme.”
I wiped the tears from her face with my thumbs, because no matter how I felt, I had to be strong for my best friend. “I know. He loved her a lot. But she wasn’t you. And now he needs you. You have to be there for him. You have to be his voice of reason. I’ll be that for you when we leave.”
