Page 67 of Dearly Departed

Gabriel has a photo album tucked under one arm. He takes a seat on the couch, pats the spot next to him, and balances the album on his lap.

“This can wait,” he says, glancing down at it. “If you’re not feeling up to talking.”

“I’m okay. I’m going to be okay. What did you want to talk about?”

He lets out a breath. “I understand Jacob got some medical attention before you flew back. He mentioned a secret hospital.”

“Very secret. You can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t. But this—” He taps the album with his fingertips. “This is something I think you need to know.”

“Okay?”

Gabriel opens the album and flips through the pages, then moves the album over so I can see the photos. It’s a two-page spread. Sunny weather. Big smiles.

“These were taken at one of Jacob’s show-jumping events. If he was staying over when one was scheduled, we’d all go.”

There’s a collection of photos of Jacob riding horses, looking young and gorgeous, his posture perfect, his clothes flawless.

“By then, I knew he struggled with eating.” Gabriel draws my attention to a photo in the lower left-hand corner. It’s Gabriel and Jacob together near a fence, various equestrian stuff in the background, Jacob’s arm slung across Gabriel’s shoulders.

“He looks…okay?”

“Yeah.”

Gabriel flips a few more pages, revealing another collection of photos from what must have been a similar tournament.

The difference between these photos and the first is stark. Gabriel looks mostly the same—dark hair? Big smile, color in his cheeks—but Jacob…

I touch his hollow, pale face in the nearest photo. “Oh, that’s—that’s⁠—”

The ache in my chest isn’t an ache. It’s an actual breaking sensation. My heart breaks for the Jacob in these photos, and for the man sleeping in the guest room.

“I know.” Gabriel covers my hand with his. “I don’t want to overstep. I promise I don’t.”

“He never said anything about this. Not once. And we were—it was obvious he hadn’t been eating when we were at the base. He wasn’t well at all. But he never told me.”

“He’s never liked to talk about it.” Gabriel watches me, worry in his eyes. “It’s not you, Catherine.”

“How, though?” I’m younger than Jacob. I don’t have a passionate hobby that would give me special skills to help him. Confused fear sloshes all over me on a delay. “Why wouldn’t he want to tell me if it could happen again.”

“Because he loves you too much.” Gabriel meets my eyes. “He wants to show you the perfect parts of him. Not the parts you’d worry over. And this stuff—” He rests his hand on one of the photos of the two of them. Jacob’s helmet dangles from Gabriel’s fingers, and they’re laughing. “These are old habits. It’s what he does when he feels shitty about himself. And he always tries to hide it as long as he can.”

“He’s good at it.”

“Unfortunately, he’s very good at it. That’s why it’s so hard to help him.”

The air in the room doesn’t seem like it’ll be enough to keep me alive. I pretend I’m in a yoga class and take three slow, deep breaths.

“Do you really want us to stay? I don’t want to, like, intrude. Any more than we already have.”

“You’re not intruding. You’re staying with family during a difficult time.”

I wave this off, trying to be funny. “What’s—” Of course it’s not going to work. Gabriel’s living room blurs through a fresh wave of tears. “What’s one little plane crash?”

Gabriel tips his head back and gazes at the ceiling, then drops his chin back down and looks me in the eyes. He’s wearing the most serious expression I’ve seen on him, and there have been serious times in the past couple of years.

“Has anyone told you that you and Jacob are perfect for each other?”