“To see Luke?” I asked. A fist gripped my heart.
“She wanted to see you,” Mom said.
“Not Luke? She’s in love with him. Not me.” I stared at the roses. She’d let them die. I scooped them up, ignoring the sharp thorns, and dumped them in the trash. “Luke killed Mandy.”
“It was an accident,” Mom said.
“Now you’re sticking up for him?” I shouted.
Her eyes were feral. “He’s dead, Ian. Dead!”
But I knew better than that.
LUKE
I didn’t feel dead. Not anymore. Jenna had seen to that. There had been a few months where I was pretty sure I was. I’d stayed in my room and not talked to anyone and tried to keep out of Dad’s way. But a person can only stay locked away for so long. I wanted out. I wanted to build. I wanted to breathe.
Dad had come home in a horrible mood the night we left. FUBAR—that was the word. Ian was in his room and Mom was cooking dinner while Dad stewed in the den. I went to the garage and started working on a shelf for Mom’s cookbooks.
I’d been working for about a half hour when I felt someone watching me. I’d turned and saw Dad standing in the doorway, his shoulders slumped. I think that was what had surprised me the most. I’d never seen Dad not at attention. But then I’d looked up at his face, and there was so much grief.
“You shouldn’t be out here, Ian,” he’d said.
I corrected him. I usually just pretended and went along with whoever they thought I was, but I corrected him and told him I was Luke. He’d jumped down the steps and grabbed me by my shirt.
“Stop it,” he’d shouted. He shook me until I thought my teeth were going to fall out of my head.
Glass shattered in the kitchen, and then Mom was in the doorway, her face pale.
“Scott, leave him alone,” Mom said.
“Back off, Ruth. I will not have my son fall apart. You’re making it worse, encouraging him, taking him to that quack doctor. Luke is beyond our help now,” he said, “but Ian isn’t.”
I didn’t know why I snapped. Dad loosened his hold on my shirt and I hit him in the face. His head snapped back, and Mom screamed. And then I was on the floor, blood pouring out of my nose.
Mom was shouting at Dad, calling him a bastard and crying and Dad was in her face, and then we were packing and gone. Just like that. Funny how it only took minutes to destroy something. Mandy had died instantly. My family dissolved in fewer than five minutes. All because of me.
The fight had been three months ago, but I hadn’t spoken to Dad since.
Ian was standing outside my bedroom door when I opened it. I didn’t know how long he’d been there.
“Dad says you’re a figment of my imagination,” Ian told me.
I stood just inside my room and glared at him. “Wouldn’t that be convenient?”
Then Ian grinned. “Mom told Jenna.”
My lungs tightened. “Mom told Jenna what?”
“Everything,” he said.
The word was a fist in my gut, and it jarred me awake. Everything.
But Mom didn’t know everything. I was the only one who did.
TWENTY-NINE
LUKE
Jenna was the one person I wanted to know the truth. If she believed I was dead, I would be. I might disappear completely. And while a year ago that had been my plan, I’d changed my mind. I’d dug my own grave, but now I was afraid to climb in. I wasn’t ready to go yet. I no longer wanted to die.
I headed to Jenna’s house on foot. It was a long walk, but I needed the time to think. It felt good to be awake and lucid and aware. It was agonizing to know and remember and feel. The smell of blood and gasoline was a pungent memory. I remembered the squeal of tires, the shattering of glass, the sickening crunch as the car wrapped around the tree. And Ian. Oh God, I remembered Ian.
Humans liked to avoid pain. If they could forget it, if they could push past the hurt, then maybe they could be whole again. But it never worked that way. No one could ever be whole again—with or without the pain—because it defined them. And even when the pain left, if it ever did, there was always a scar to remind them.
I had scars, and every single one of them had a hand in making me who I was. Every regret formed me. I’d believed that becoming someone else, forgetting what happened, would make everything okay. Would somehow erase that horrible mistake. Would free me. But I was so completely wrong. I ruined everything. And I lost my brother and myself in the process. I had to tell the truth, because in a few hours I might not even know what it was. I clung to my shred of knowing as if it were my very last possession. And maybe it was. I had to tell the truth now—I wasn’t guaranteed a later.
Jenna was sitting on the porch swing in her backyard, a moving shadow in the dusk. I wanted to cross the space between us, but I no longer had that right.
Being away from her hadn’t helped at all. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and bury my face in her hair, but I couldn’t. I didn’t deserve to. I should have stayed away from her to begin with. I knew I was going to hurt her—and me. The truth made me ache. I was never going to be able to be with her. Ever. Because of what I was. Because of what I wasn’t.
I’d fallen in love with Jenna. I was going to tell her everything I knew while I was still me. And lose her completely in the process.
She saw me as soon as I stepped out of the trees. The swing stopped moving. The world itself seemed to stand still. I hated to ruin it. But that was who I was.
“Hey.” I stepped closer to the swing and she tensed. “It’s okay,” I said. “I just want to talk.” The sadness in her eyes made me want to go to her. But the fear in her face kept me away. “I need to tell you the truth.”
She looked away. “I know it already.”
“No, you don’t.”
I couldn’t stand the heaviness in her voice. “Your mom told me everything.”
“My mom doesn’t know the truth.” I was the only one who really knew what had happened that night, and even I didn’t remember it very often.
“Why should I believe anything you say?” Jenna asked. “You’ve done nothing but lie.”
“I’ve never lied to you,” I said. I hadn’t.
She clenched her jaw. She didn’t believe me. She thought I had control over this.
“Just listen. That’s all I ask.”
She looked like she wanted to get up and go inside, but she didn’t.
I took a deep breath and sat down on the top step. I’d never told anyone this story. I’d been keeping it from myself for a year.
“Everything I’ve ever told you is true,” I began. “Ian and I were best friends. We did everything together. But once we got to high school, things changed. I didn’t want to be like him anymore. I was tired of trying to please my dad. Nothing worked anyway. So while Ian was making straight As and helping the football team to a championship, I was getting arrested for underage drinking and breaking and entering. I don’t know what was wrong with me or what I was trying to prove. I hated it—and myself. But I couldn’t stop.
“Maybe I resented Ian. I don’t know. But one night I talked him into going to a party with me. He brought his girlfriend. I drove my truck, although Ian took my keys. He knew I would get drunk, and I did. It wasn’t new. I spent a lot of time drunk.”
I remembered everything about that party. It was in Lee Davis’s backyard. His parents were out of town and half the school showed up. It was mostly upperclassmen, but Ian and I were popular enough to hang out with the older guys. There had been so much booze. Ian’s girlfriend, Mandy, had gotten really drunk, too.
I didn’t want to tell Jenna the rest. I remembered the lights and the keg. The lack of responsibility I felt once I was on my seventh or eighth beer. I’d been looking for Ian and found Mandy instead. She and Ian were fighting. “I kissed Mandy,” I admitted. “Mainly because I was so pissed at him and just wanted to see what perfect Ian would do.”
Saying it out loud made it sound even
worse. I’d destroyed so many people over absolutely nothing. Jenna hadn’t moved, and I didn’t want to look at her. I didn’t think I could stand to see the disappointment that must have been there. I should have been used to it. Except Jenna was the one person I didn’t want to disappoint.
“Ian saw us kissing. He told me he’d trusted me. I told him he shouldn’t have. Ian got really drunk after that, and when it was time to go, he wouldn’t give me the keys. I was furious—I hit him. His lip was busted and he just sat on the ground, blinking up at me, accusing me. I took my keys and ordered them both in the truck. Mandy sat in the back and cried, but Ian didn’t say a word. I tried to apologize, but I couldn’t, because we were spinning. The next thing I knew, I was waking up with a pounding headache. I was covered in blood—and only some of it was mine.”
That smell. It had been so strong—blood, gasoline, burning rubber. The roof of the car had flattened, and we’d smashed into a huge tree two hundred yards off the road.
“I knew Ian was dead.” My voice cracked. It was hard to say those words out loud. I’d pretended it wasn’t true for so long that the lie became the truth and his death became the lie. “I knew he was dead because a piece of me was missing.”
Jenna was crying. I didn’t know if that meant she believed me or not. My throat was tight.
“I wanted to die. I screamed at God. I was furious that he’d taken my brother and not me. Ian deserved to live—I didn’t. It was all my fault. I’d screwed up my life. I was failing most of my classes and was pretty sure I wasn’t going to be able to get into college. I was on probation for the next six months. I was a screw-up. But Ian wasn’t. Ian was going to get a scholarship. Ian was going to be something. I wished I’d died instead.
“And then I realized I could. I could kill Luke. I could keep Ian alive. I could step right into his life and bury the bad twin. When the paramedics came, I told them I was Ian McAlister.”
Jenna interrupted, shaking her head. She didn’t believe me. “Your parents would have noticed the difference,” she argued. “Surely they can tell you two apart.”
My parents. “They believed what they wanted to. Luke’s death made sense. He’d been too much trouble, brought it on himself. And Ian was easier to love. It didn’t take much to convince them I was Ian.”
Her eyes hardened. “I was pretty easy to convince, too.”
She still didn’t get it. “No. Please. You don’t understand. At first, I was only pretending to be Ian. It was harder than I thought. I missed him so much. And the guilt—it felt like I was being ripped apart. And then he was there, and I forgot he was ever gone.”
She shook her head. Of course she didn’t believe me. It was impossible.
“Right now, I’m clear. I remember the party, the accident, the fact that Ian is,” I took a deep breath, “gone. But right now won’t last forever. Tomorrow, hell, an hour from now, Ian will show up and I’ll think he’s alive again.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense!” she snapped.
“I know. I don’t know how to explain it. I’m asleep and I’m awake. I don’t know how it feels to be Ian, because I’m not. I go into the bedroom in my head.”
“And right now?”
“The real Luke is awake. He isn’t usually. Ian and the Luke that thinks Ian is still alive are both asleep. Sometimes I know what’s going on. I was completely me the first time we met, at the hospital. But most days I’m not. It’s like a limb that’s been amputated. I know it’s gone, but sometimes it still itches, and I convince myself it’s still there. I don’t know how else to explain it.”
I leaned back against the post and stared up at the sky. The answers weren’t there.
“My dad thought I was lying,” I said, “that Ian was, really, because he thought I was Ian. He thought I pretended to be Luke just to hurt them. But my mom believed Ian. She’s a nurse. She took him to a doctor. They diagnosed him, me, with a dissociative disorder. They said the trauma caused a break. It happens, though usually with younger kids and different kinds of trauma. But our connection, my guilt, it was enough.”
In the tiny spaces when I’d remembered, I’d tried to learn what I could. But until Jenna, I hadn’t wanted to get better. The three months after the accident had been a soul-sucking black hole. I never wanted to be that alone again.
“Of course, they didn’t know Ian was the alter ego, not me. Lots of people don’t believe in that sort of thing. My dad’s one of them. That’s why my parents split up. Because of me. Because of how screwed up I am.”
I turned to Jenna, my eyes finding hers in the dark. “But whoever that is, he’s not Ian, not really. Ian was so much better than that. So strong. I’m not a good Ian. Hell, I’m not even a good Luke.”
JENNA
The world came crashing in, rolling me, waves over my head. I didn’t know where the surface was—I was swimming in the wrong direction, caught in the current. And then Luke was there to grab me. I could breathe again. And I believed him. I knew I shouldn’t, since I couldn’t be sure Luke even knew the truth. But he was here, and it felt like the truth. I knew this version was easier to believe because I wanted it to be true more than anything. No, that wasn’t right. What I wanted more than anything was for all of this to be a bad dream. I wanted to wake up and realize that none of it was true, that Luke was still Luke and not so damaged. It was almost impossible to absorb everything all at once. It was too much. Instead, I focused on Luke and tugged tight to my chest the realization that he was alive. And warm. And here. I shouldn’t have still wanted him, but I did.
I knew about sadness and regret. I was angry with myself for not saying goodbye to Pops. I missed him and felt as if I left a part of me behind, trapped somewhere in that October. But Luke’s grief had caused his brain to shut down, caging him in the darkness—a fugue state, his mom had called it. Luke didn’t just lose his brother; he lost himself as well.
Tragedy had drawn us together, and it was tragedy that was going to keep us apart.
“What do you want from me?” I whispered. I couldn’t fix it. But I didn’t know if I could walk away.
Luke stood up and sat on the edge of the swing. My heart pounded in my throat. He reached out and ran his finger along my jaw. I had to focus on breathing. “You’ve already given me everything.” He leaned in and stared hard into my eyes, his hand cupping my face. “Until I met you, I was hoping I’d disappear completely and forget everything. But you.” He gave me a crooked smile. “You brought me back to life.”
His lips were warm and careful. I felt the kiss in my toes and in my lungs and as a burning in the back of my brain. I curled my fingers in his hair and pulled him tighter to me, and I knew he was telling me the truth. Ian couldn’t kiss like that.
Luke held me close, a hug that was more like a grip. I buried my face in his neck. His hands were tangled in my hair, his lips close to my ear. “I love you,” he whispered. “God forgive me, but I love you. I’m sorry.”
I pulled back and looked at him. “That’s not something to apologize for.”
He looked down. “But I’m so screwed up.”
I’d give him that. It changed everything. But he was here now, and tomorrow was going to have to take care of itself. I put my head on Luke’s chest, and he stroked my hair. I tried to forget about the shadow lurking inside him. He was just Luke. I tried not to be sad. No matter what happened, I was going to lose him, one way or another. So I memorized him. The way he smelled, the sound of his breathing, the strength of his heartbeat. His skin under my fingers. I examined the way the veins crisscrossed the back of his hands. The callouses on his palms. The way my head fit perfectly against his neck.
“I might not be myself tomorrow,” he said.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. I sat up and rested my forehead on his, our noses touching. “Then I guess all we have is today.”
His eyes were intense. “It’s all anyone ever has,” he whispered.
LUKE
I knew it co
uldn’t last—eventually Jenna would realize how impossible it was. But I was selfish enough not to care.
I had her for the moment, and only that moment mattered. Ian was silent—just a locked door where the illusion lived. I shouldn’t have been trying to find him, but it hurt less when he was there. When I couldn’t remember, he was really gone. Missing him was like drowning. My lungs felt flooded and my heart pounded like it wanted to wear itself down, beat twice as much, twice as hard, beat his heartbeats, too. It wasn’t like losing him all over again. It was like waking up from a nightmare and realizing that reality was even worse.
“You have to tell your mom.” Jenna’s pronouncement came out of nowhere.
“She wouldn’t believe me.” She didn’t want to. And maybe I didn’t want her to, either. Living Ian’s life was easier than living Luke’s. No. I didn’t really believe that anymore. The lie was getting harder to hold onto.
“You’re her son. Of course she’ll believe you,” Jenna argued. “She believed you enough to move here, to try and fix you.”
I sighed. Jenna couldn’t understand my family. “She moved here to save Ian, not Luke.”
She took my hand. “She loves you, too.”
I stood up and stepped off the porch. The stars seemed to mock me. “Not the same way she loves Ian. She’ll never forgive me for killing him.”
“It was an accident.” She sounded angry.
“Maybe I wanted him dead,” I whispered.
Jenna came up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist, resting her head in the middle of my back. “You didn’t.” She sounded so sure. Even I wasn’t sure.
Because hadn’t I resented him? Hadn’t I wished I didn’t have a brother whose perfection made me look more flawed, more inadequate? When Ian died, I got a new start. I didn’t have to be me anymore—I could step out of myself, shed my problems and become the brother everyone always wanted me to be. The new me had scholarship possibilities and an unblemished reputation, while the old me was buried, flaws and all. At least that had been the plan. I’d watched myself being lowered into the ground. I remembered standing there and staring down into that dark hole, forgetting who I really was. Thinking I really was watching the old version of me being put to rest.
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