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“No pictures,” said Adam.
“What?”
“There aren’t any pictures anywhere. Of your family. Or—”
He hesitated, as if realizing he’d made a misstep. “Of your brothers.”
Nick shrugged, but his shoulders felt tense again. “We used to have some. They were destroyed.”
“Fire?”
Nick shook his head. “It’s—it’s a long story.”
A lie. It was a pretty short story, really. He didn’t want to relive it, but his brain was more than happy to supply the memories. While Nick and his brothers were at their parents’ funeral, Tyler and his best friend Seth had broken into the house. They’d destroyed every picture they could find.
Nick remembered coming home, still shaken from watching glossy wooden boxes lowered into the ground, and finding shattered glass everywhere. Michael had called the cops. Chris had holed up in his room to cry. Gabriel had stormed out—probably on a mission of vengeance.
Nick had cleaned up the mess.
Five years, and the memory still had the power to knock the breath out of him. “I don’t really want to talk about this.”
“I’m sorry,” Adam said softly. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine.” Nick tried to shake off the emotion, but it wouldn’t loosen. “It’s a stupid thing to be upset about—I mean, we still have old memory cards and stuff. We just—we never reprinted anything. And then after they were gone, no one really felt like taking pictures of anything meaningful.”
“Your brothers weren’t into trips to Sears wearing identical sweaters?”
Nick half smiled. “No.”
Adam pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it up. “Say cheese.”
“Don’t take my—”
“Too late.” He turned it around so Nick could see.
Adam had snapped the picture before Nick had started talking, so the photo captured his mouth in a thin line. His shoulders were hunched and his eyes dark.
“Delete it,” he said.
“No way.” Adam leaned close to whisper along his jaw. “I felt like taking a picture of something meaningful.”
Nick blushed. There was a good chance he might melt right down these steps.
Adam grinned and said, “Wait, now I need another picture.”
This time, Nick let him, but then he snatched the phone out of Adam’s fingers.
“If you delete them, I’ll just have to take more.”
“I’m not deleting them.” Nick turned the phone around and took a picture of Adam. Unruly hair, crooked smile, solid grip on Nick’s heart.
He texted it to himself.
Adam took his hand and tugged. “Come on. Show me the upstairs.”
At the top of the stairs, Nick pointed at each room in turn.
“Chris, Michael, Gabriel, me. And the bathroom. I told you: thrilling.”
