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“Shut up!” My control snapped, and the words tumbled out of me of their own accord. “I told you not to call me that. I also told you that I don’t want to discuss the past. We can’t be friends if you keep bringing it up. I thought you understood that!”
Logan’s hand dropped from my arm and his face turned as hard as granite. “I’ve stood by and pasted a damn smile on my face, trying to pretend that we could just be friends. I guess I hoped you would work through your issues, and recognize what’s staring us in the face. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. You obviously have no interest in dealing with the truth about what’s between us. In your own way, you’re living in as much of a fantasy world about our relationship as Mrs. Brooks is about Cassie’s death.”
His cruel words battered against my already-raw emotions, and it took everything I had not to scream at him.
“Fuck you.” My voice was low and the barely restrained rage was evident. “Don’t you ever compare me to Mrs. Brooks. I never asked you to be my friend. I didn’t beg you to be a part of my life. You’re the one who kept barging into my life, trying to convince me that you wanted nothing more than friendship. Well, you can renege on your offer of friendship, because I don’t want it anymore. It’s not my fault you lied about your true intentions.”
A part of me expected Logan’s face to crumple and for him to immediately apologize. We had never spoken so cruelly to each other, even when we had been uncharacteristically fighting last week, but as much as I wanted to take my ugly words back, my anger and hurt wouldn’t allow it.
His jaw clenched and his eyes looked more black than blue. “My pleasure,” he bit out. “I’m tired of playing the fool.”
He turned around abruptly and stalked out of the room. I grabbed onto the chair next to me to stop myself from collapsing to the floor. I had no idea what had just happened between us, but I knew our relationship was irrevocably changed… if there even was a relationship left to salvage.
I took several deep breaths, trying to regain my composure, before I left Cassie’s bedroom. The last thing I needed was for Mrs. Brooks to see how upset I was.
When I came back downstairs, Mr. and Mrs. Brooks were standing next to the dining table in front of the cake while Logan had his back to them, facing the window. He didn’t turn around when he heard my approach, but Mrs. Brooks’ face brightened.
“There you are,” she said with a wide smile. “Now we can light the candles.”
“Sorry I took so long,” I replied, trying to sound normal despite the chaotic emotions that threatened to overwhelm me.
“Don’t worry about it, dear,” Mrs. Brooks said kindly. “Cassie keeps her room such a mess. I’m not surprised it took you a while to find a lighter.”
I silently handed Mr. Brooks the lighter and watched as he lit the candles on top of the cake. It was a beautiful cake covered in intricate frosting with the words “Happy Birthday Cassie” piped in yellow.
Mrs. Brooks ushered me in front of the cake, and I stared at it, feeling sick to my stomach. I could almost feel Cassie’s disapproving presence next to me, wondering what the hell we were doing pretending that she was still alive. She would have protested loudly at this display, dismayed that we hadn’t moved past her death. She had never been one to dwell on the obstacles of life, preferring to move forward and push ahead.
“I know it’s silly to sing Happy Birthday without Cassie here, but I’m sure she’d appreciate it. I’ll tell her all about it once she comes home.”
I nodded weakly at Mrs. Brooks, although the only thing I wanted to do was run from the mocking cake and candles and from Logan’s tense back.
“Logan,” Mrs. Brooks called out. “Come join us.”
His shoulders stiffened, but he slowly turned around. His expression was unreadable as he moved to join us, and he studiously avoided my gaze.
Mrs. Brooks started singing and her husband joined in soon after. I added my trembling voice, although I desperately wanted to shut my eyes against this mockery of a celebration. I didn’t hear Logan join in, and I wasn’t surprised.
“Blow out the candles,” Mrs. Brooks encouraged when I just stood there after we were done singing. I swallowed audibly, feeling an irrational fear that if I blew out the candles in Cassie’s stead, I would somehow be damning myself.
“Madison,” Mr. Brooks prompted, a stern look on his usually gentle face. “It’s time to blow out the candles.”
In a flash of insight, I wondered who was sicker—Cassie’s mother, who actually believed she was still alive, or her father, who knew the truth but lived a lie for his wife.
I told myself to just blow out the damn candles so I could get the hell out of there, but my body refused to cooperate. I felt myself start to tremble. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t blow out Cassie’s birthday candles for so many reasons, but the main reason was that it was just wrong. I felt as though I would be betraying her, betraying the short yet brilliant life she had lived, by not acknowledging that she was gone. I wouldn’t be blowing out her candles because she was stuck in traffic. I would be blowing out her candles to perpetuate the lie that she was still alive. She would have hated that.
“Madison,” Mr. Brooks said again, but this time there was steel in his voice. “Blow out the candles.”
“What’s wrong?” Mrs. Brooks asked, her voice much gentler. “Are you feeling okay? You look pale.”
I shook my head, unsure whether it was in response to her question or to this farce. I took a step back, almost stumbling as I tried to put some space between me and the candles, which seemed to burn even brighter. I felt suffocated and panicky, and I instinctively lurched back when Mrs. Brooks put her hand on my shoulder.
“Maybe you should lie down for a bit, dear,” Mrs. Brooks suggested, looking worried. “You look like you’re about to faint.”
“She’s fine,” Mr. Brooks said implacably. He had a bland expression on his face, but his eyes were warning me. “Madison, blow out the candles or Cassie’s mother will be very disappointed.”
It seemed impossible to feel the heat of the candles, considering how small the flames were, but I suddenly felt their oppressive warmth, and I backed farther away until I bumped into a hard, unyielding object.
Logan’s arm immediately came up around my waist, and I felt relief rush through me. Despite the ugly words we had just thrown at each other, he still felt like a safe haven. A sane safe haven, something this household seemed to lack.
