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Tate moves quickly in front of me, dropping to a knee and putting his hand on my foot.
“Let me.”
I jolt and stand, the half-attached shoe falling to the hardwood floor with a thud. “No.” I stare down at his position below me. “Do not touch me, and do not mistake my grief as weakness. Losing my brother is not an invitation for you to get me back.”
He collapses back on his ass. “I know you’re not weak. But losing Eric has opened my eyes to how short life really is, and I don’t want to waste any more of mine without you.”
I snatch my fallen shoe and move away, planting a hand in the foot of the bed for balance as I slide them on.
“It’s opened my eyes too, but I see nowhere in my future that you fit.”
“Evie…”
“I’m with someone else.”
“I know,” he states with finality.
My brows pinch together. “You know?”
“Here.” He stands and digs something out of his back pocket. At his approach, my instincts send warning flares to back up, but the bed at my back blocks any escape. A white envelope is placed in my hands, and when he curls my fingers around it, I let him. His warm hand wraps around mine and holds tight.
“Please let go of me.”
“I know about the money. I know about the debt. This is my half. You should have told me.” He dips his head to catch my attention that drifts to the envelope in my hands. The apology in his blue eyes is about six months too late. “I’m sorry for not paying attention. I’m sorry I missed what you were going through and leaving you to make hard decisions on your own.”
“How did you know?”
He gives a one-shouldered shrug. “You didn’t change your address on the credit card statements. When Eric wouldn’t give me a forwarding address, I eventually opened one to see if you needed any help.”
I pull back with the envelope clutched in my hand. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“And you should have told me.” He nods his head to my hands. “Don’t fight that. Just take it.”
My inclination is to hand it back, to fight, to do it on my own, but he’s not wrong. Life is hard enough without my stubbornness making it harder, something I’ve realized recently.
I don’t have to do it all by myself. Not anymore.
And Eric’s heated encouragement about asking Tate to pay half comes back to me. It was the last thing we discussed before he left. The last time I saw him healthy and whole and alive. For my brother, I let this battle go.
“Thank you. For this.” I hold up the envelope and tuck it in my purse. “And for the apology.”
Tate looks away and wipes the corner of his eye with his thumb. “Does he make you happy?”
I inhale long and slow through my nose. My head tilts, and I give him a watery smile. “He makes me incredibly happy.”
“Good. We, um, we should get going.”
“I’ll be just a minute.”
I watch him walk away without another word.
I return to my bag to apply a light layer of sunscreen over my exposed arms and face, then plop my oversized sunglasses on top of my head. No matter how much I try to prepare myself for what’s up ahead, I’ll never be ready to face this day.
Four hours later, Caiti and I roam arm in arm down a sandy beach, clutching our sandals between our fingers. Tate trails us, lost to his own thoughts after the long, emotional afternoon. Seagulls caw overhead, occasionally swooping down to retrieve scraps of food as kids laugh and throw more.
“Our last stop.” I shield my forehead from the penetrating sunrays and gaze at the long wooden dock fifty feet ahead of us. Caiti’s arm reflexively squeezes mine.
I turn to her. “Are you ready?”
