Page 20 of Before We Break

I snort. “You’re twenty-four, not sixty.”

“You try chasing a four-year-old up a rope ladder.”

“Yeah. Hard pass.”

“He looks happy though,” she says wistfully. “I wish…”

“Don’t say it.”

“He should be here.”

My fists clench tight against my thighs until it’s almost painful. “Yeah, well. He’s not. Jonah knew what he was doing. He made his bed, and he can lie in it.”

“And if he didn’t do it?”

“Does it matter what I think? Jonah never cared. Time after time, I tried to get him help. I moved him into my apartment. I supported him and paid for rehab. I don’t have anything to give. Everything I have left is focused on Auggie. He deserves to have a better life than the one we were dealt.”

“Sure, life was pretty shitty for a while, but we always had each other. Why does that have to change?” Emma’s voice cracks. “Why can’t you forgive him?”

Auggie whooshes down the spiral slide with his arms in the air, laughing as he makes it to the bottom. His wild curls bounce as he bounds back up the stairs and runs across the platform with another kid about his age following behind him.

“It’s not that simple.”

“He’s your brother.”

Unable to contain my anger, I aim it squarely at my sister, even though I know damn well she doesn’t deserve it. “You’re right. He is my brother. He always will be. But right now, he feels a lot like a goddamn stranger.”

Several people turn toward the disruption, but I ignore their stares. I’ve been fodder for this town too many times to count; it doesn’t faze me anymore. Let them talk.

Emma smooths her hands down her lap and stands. “I’m gonna go say goodbye to Auggie.”

“Emma, I…”

“I heard you loud and clear.” Gaze downcast, she murmurs, “We already lost mom and dad. I can’t lose Jonah, too. You might be ready to give up on him, but I’m not.”

With those parting words, Emma disappears behind the pirate ship in search of Auggie, leaving me alone with only my conscience for company and a steady stream of unwanted but deserved guilt.

A shadow looms in my periphery before Janet takes the seat to my right. I’ve known Janet my whole life. She used to babysit us every now and then.

She pats my forearm. “How’s August? Settling in ok?”

“We’re managing.”

She nods absently, staring at the playground. A group of about five kids, including Auggie, dashes past us playing a game of tag. Their voices grow louder and louder as they make the rounds again.

A little girl taps Auggie on the back. “Tag, you’re it!”

He whirls around and chases her in the opposite direction, but he only makes it a few steps before he trips over his feet and tumbles to the rubber mat that covers the entire surface of the playground.

I stop breathing, bracing myself for tears that don’t come. Should I go to him? I don’t want to make things worse.

“You ok, buddy?”

It takes him a second to stand, panting, his face red. He gives me an unenthusiastic thumbs-up and takes off after the other kids again, slower and more cautiously.

I slump back against the bench and blow out a long breath.

“Once upon a time, that would’ve sent your mama into a tailspin,” Janet says through subdued laughter. “She would’ve hauled y’all off to the hospital to check for internal bleeding. She had her faults, but you three kids were her whole world.”