Page 110 of The Way the Heart Breaks: Jade’s Story

“Because they look just like Jade.” He doesn't say anything. “Not Tessa. Not Alex. Jade.” I stare out the windshield. “Same thick dark hair. Same eyes. Same face.”

Lucas is quiet for a few seconds. “What happened to them?”

“I don't know.”

“And that's what Brooks was pissed about?”

“I asked why Jade never told me about her brothers.”

Lucas's eyes flick toward me. “What'd he say?”

“That if she isn't talking about it, she doesn't want me to know. So don't bring it up.”

“Sounds like Brooks.”

“Yeah.” I look down at my hands. “But he's right. I don't know what happened. I don't know why nobody talks about them. And I'm not going to ask Jade.”

He nods once. “Good.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

I look out the window again, thinking about the two boys in that picture. Then I think about Jade. I always got why she was close with Alex; they have a family bond I envy. But Ryan, that kid pissed me off; I mean, he still does, but maybe that picture is why they took a hiatus from the game. The reason why Alex and Ryan shut down whenever anyone gets too close.

We drive the rest of the way in silence, both of us thinking of the same damn tragedy from two different perspectives.

“Tomorrow, we make them shine,” I say quietly.

Lucas nods, holding out his hand. Palm slap, backhand tap, done. “Assholes or not, we give them the season they deserved.”

23

UP ALL NIGHT

Jade

The phone rings in my room, and I practically launch myself across the bed to grab it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, pretty girl.”

I grin so hard my cheeks hurt. “Hi.”

There’s something about hearing his voice on the phone that makes this feel even more like my new reality and not something I manifested. More than just two kids who happen to sit together at school and steal a few minutes between classes. More than a group hanging out at the pond. He’s actually calling me, in my room. On my phone.

My phone.

Dad went completely overboard with it. He didn’t just have a phone line installed. He bought me a white Princess phone and put it on my nightstand beside my bed, complete with the long, curly cord that stretches almost to the door. It has big push buttons instead of a rotary dial. I swear Dad thinks I’m going to spend half my senior year attached to it.

“You there?”

“Yeah.” I laugh. “Sorry. I'm just excited.”

“About talking to me?”

“About the phone.”