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How is this possible? I can’t take my gaze off him, off those crystal blue, ocean blue, impossibly blue eyes.
He unfolds the white thing in his hand, revealing a beat-up greeting card with a fat housecat on the front. “Does this mean anything to you?” he asks, his voice resonating in the most familiar way.
My knees shake so badly I lean on the headstone and cover my mouth with my hand. A week ago when Sasha died, I knew I’d never see her eyes again.
Yet here they are, watching me while I collapse to the ground.
Chapter Five
The stranger’s hands are on my shoulders, then my arms, helping me stand back up. As soon as I’m on my feet, I scramble backward, my thigh hitting a nearby headstone. I jump aside and my ankle twists in a section of thick grass. I curse as sharp pain shoots up my leg.
“Whoa,” the guy says. He won’t stop staring at me with those stupid eyes. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”
I take in the rugged look of his clothing, the calluses on his hands as he holds them up. He isn’t that much older than I am, but he’s not like the other guys at school. He looks like he’s seen some shit. This is not funny, Sasha. “Who the hell are you?”
He ru
ns a hand through his hair, takes a step backward. Because I can’t look into his eyes, I focus on his lips, all soft lines with the hint of a smirk.
“I’m Elijah.” He scratches the back of his neck and I watch his biceps flex. “Elijah, um, Delgado.” If he wasn’t some kind of weird cemetery stalker, he’d be cute. Really cute.
“You’re Raquel, right?”
My nostrils flare. “How do you know that?”
“Well, you’re not Sasha. You don’t look anything like her, so …” He rubs his shoulder, then lets his pinky slide down the silver chain around his neck. I realize he’s just as awkward as I am. Maybe he’s not here to murder me or steal my laptop.
I take a deep breath and release my grip on the headstone next to me. Mr. and Mrs. Goodwin both died in the same year just two months apart. How tragic.
“I am Raquel,” I say, daring to look into his eyes again. Chills cover my body. I know I asked for a sign from Sasha, but I didn’t expect her returning to earth as a hot guy. “How do you know my name?”
He opens the greeting card in his hands and reads. “‘At the cemetery, go to the Mary Grove aisle, then fourteen plots to the right. Look for my best friend, Raquel. She’ll be the one with the shit haircut but a super charming smile.’” He looks up, folding the card back into a square the size of a business card. “No offense, but your hair,” he says, biting on his bottom lip.
I laugh. “That is so like Sasha,” I say, reaching up and touching the previously mentioned shit haircut.
“Ah,” Elijah says. “There’s the charming smile.”
We stand here for a minute, the compliment catching me off guard. Although I might already kind of know the answer — as insane as it is — I have to ask. “So … who exactly are you?”
But my words come out at the same time as Elijah says, “Is Sasha on her way?”
A boulder forms in my stomach. He must not notice the horror in my eyes because he gives me a grin just like Sasha’s and says, “She probably wants to tell you herself, but I’m her biological brother.” He swings a thumb toward his chest. “Same parents. We recently found each other online, but she didn’t want to tell people yet.” Patting his pocket, he says, “This card is the first time she’s asked to meet up.”
I swallow as the information falls over me in waves. Sasha has a brother. She knew and she didn’t tell me.
“So, is she coming?” He watches me with eager anticipation in his eyes, then he glances back toward the parking lot.
I don’t.
I can’t.
Sasha, how could you do this to me?
I stare at the new grass covering Sasha’s burial plot. “Elijah …”
His expression darkens, his hands sliding into his pockets. It reminds me of the first time I told Zack I wanted to break up. All I had to say was his name and he knew whatever I said next would be bad news. This is so much worse.
“What is it?” he asks.
