by Minard, Tori
“Yeah,” I said. “There was snow all over the ground.”
Carter had died in January. I hadn’t even observed his death day this year; I’d been too wrapped up in my love affair with Caroline to remember. That was the first time that had happened.
“I took the gun up to my room because I knew I wasn’t supposed to have it. I wanted to hide while I played with it. But I didn’t shut my door. I don’t know why.” I looked at Caroline. She was watching me with no expression on her face. “Why wouldn’t I shut my door if I wanted to hide?”
“I don’t know,” she said softly. “You were only ten. Maybe you forgot.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” I swallowed past what felt like a rock lodged in my throat. “I was pointing the gun, pretending I was aiming it at some bad guys, and Carter ran into my room and I swung around and the—the gun—it just went off.”
“What kind of gun was it?”
I didn’t understand how she could sound so calm.
“I don’t know. A handgun. A pistol. It seemed huge to me, but my hands were small back then. And it was so loud. So fucking loud. I couldn’t really hear for a while after it went off. I could see, though. I could see him, and the blood—there was so much blood—all over him—” My voice failed.
I couldn’t look at her. I couldn’t look at the window, either, because I could see my reflection in it and I didn’t want to look at myself. And because it reminded me of that other night, when I pointed a gun at a dark window and then accidentally shot my little brother.
I bent my head and covered my face with my hands. In the resulting darkness, I could see Carter’s little body sprawled across my bedroom floor, blood soaking my carpet. His eyes were open. They looked so surprised.
My edges were dissolving. My body started to shake and I didn’t know why. I was losing it. Losing control, losing composure, losing sanity. I could feel it crumbling away, like a suit of armor I’d always worn without knowing it. The thing turned to dust and I only understood that I’d had it at all when it crumbled and blew away.
He’d been so small. So damn small. Dead before I could throw down the fucking gun and run to him and put my arms around him and try to hold him.
“He was so small,” I said. “And broken. There was blood all over the place. It made the carpet wet and it got on my clothes and my hands because I tried to pick him up. He fell down and I ran to him and he was already dead. I killed my little brother.” My voice broke. “I’m so sorry, Carter.”
Caroline’s hand found its way to my back. She began to stroke me and she didn’t say anything and I didn’t—really didn’t—want to break down and cry. I didn’t want her to see me like that.
I took a shaky breath, trying to hold onto my last thread of composure.
Chapter 29
Caroline
Max’s apartment was so cold it felt like winter. We’d both kept our jackets on. But as I stroked his back, trying to bring him a little comfort, the air became even icier.
My breath appeared in a little white cloud in front of my face. Max still had his hands over his eyes, so he couldn’t see it. He trembled all over, seemingly fighting not to cry, his big body shaking beneath my hand.
He’d been made to bear something too heavy for him. Too heavy for any child. My guilt over Aunt Jo’s departure had haunted me, and that was trivial compared to the burden Max had borne for so long. I suddenly wanted to rage at Peter Kincaid for leaving his son alone with his guilt and grief. What kind of father would do that to his child?
If Peter Kincaid had been here in the room, I would have told him exactly what I thought of him. The awful things he’d said about Max when I’d visited the house in Billings...had he ever loved his son? Had anyone ever really loved Max?
“Max.”
It was a high-pitched child’s voice, and it came from behind us, from the direction of the living room.
Both of us jumped several inches. We turned simultaneously toward the sound. A little boy with tousled blond hair stood in the archway between the kitchen and living room. He wore a pair of jeans and a small sweatshirt with a picture of a truck on it. He was smiling at Max, his round, blue eyes full of happy innocence.
“Carter?” Max said in a rough whisper.
“It’s me.” Carter came closer. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for a long time.”
“I know.” Max’s voice broke. “I heard.”
“You’re not easy to get hold of.” He really didn’t sound like a three year old.
“Sharon told us to contact you, but we haven’t even started the ritual yet,” I said. “How can you be here?”
“You were talking about me and thinking about me. It was enough of a connection to let me pass through the veil.” He looked from me to Max. “Why did you ignore me for so long?”
“I’m sorry,” Max said. “I was...I was afraid, Carter.”
The little-boy ghost cocked his head. “Why were you afraid? I’d never hurt you.”
“Because of what I did. I didn’t think I could stand it, seeing you again and knowing...knowing you’ll never forgive me.”
Carter frowned. “Of course I forgive you. That’s why I came. Because you thought there weren’t any bullets in the gun.”
“Yeah. But I was wrong.”
“Trent told you the gun wasn’t loaded,” Carter said.
Max stilled, his gaze becoming hazy and far-away. Then he frowned. “Yeah, that’s right. I remember that.”
“But it was. It was loaded.” Carter took another step forward, coming right up to Max. He looked so real, so alive. “It was loaded because he put the bullets in it.”
Max and I both stared at him blankly. He stood looking at Max with an expectant expression, but Max just stared, like he couldn’t make sense of what Carter had said.
“Are you telling us that Trent loaded the gun?” I said. “That he lied to Max about it not being loaded?”
Carter looked at me soberly. “Yes, that’s what I’m telling you. He wanted to hurt Max.”
I closed my eyes. “Oh, my God.”
“I can’t...I don’t...” Max said. “Why? I don’t understand. Did he want me to shoot you?”
“I don’t know,” Carter said. “But I saw him put the bullets in the gun. I didn’t really know what he was doing or how dangerous it was. Until after. You know. When I got to the other side, it all became clear to me.”
Max rubbed his eyes with a trembling hand. I wanted to take him in my arms and make all the pain and confusion disappear, but it wasn’t the right time. Not yet.
“I wanted you to know, Max,” Carter said. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know. You were only a kid when it happened and you need to stop blaming yourself. I don’t blame you. I never did.”
Max covered his face again. His shoulders began to shake and a wheezing sound escaped him. I glanced at Carter, who looked back at me sadly. I put my arms around Max.
“Thank you,” I said to the ghost.
“Thank you,” he said. “I’m glad you came back to him. He deserves someone to love him.”
Now my eyes were stinging. “Yes, he does.”
“I loved you, Max,” Carter said. “I still do. Please remember that. I don’t know if I’ll see you again, so I need you to remember that I love you.”
A strangled sound came from Max’s throat. His face was hidden against my shoulder. I smiled tremulously at Carter.
“He loves you, too,” I said hoarsely.
“I know,” Carter said. “I have to go now. I’ll always remember you, Max.”
He winked out, like a snuffed candle flame. I blinked rapidly at the startling sight, but he was gone. We were alone again, and the kitchen was merely chilly instead of arctic-cold.
I kept my arms around Max for a long time, long after he’d stopped sobbing and his body had calmed. He clung to me with a desperation I never thought I’d see in him. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I stayed quiet and simply kept petting him, stroking his bac
k and playing with his hair, hoping that touch would give him the comfort he needed.
Maybe he could stop hating himself now. I wouldn’t expect him to get over all the blame instantly, but at least he’d had Carter’s assurance he was forgiven. I hoped it was enough for him to start over.
He lifted his head. “I’m a fucking mess,” he muttered.
“That’s all right.”
Max reached for a cloth napkin left on the table and used it to wipe his eyes. “Sorry about all this.”
“You don’t need to apologize. I don’t mind.”
He couldn’t seem to look at me. “I can’t understand why not.”
“Oh, Max.” I caressed the side of his face. He looked so tired. “It’s normal to feel sad and cry when someone you love dies. Or comes back from the grave.”
His mouth quirked upward at one corner. “Is it?”
“Yes. So don’t feel bad about it. Plus, I love you. If you can’t cry in front of me, who can you cry in front of?”
He gave me a dry glance. “I’m not going to answer that.”
I just smiled at him. After a moment, he took my face in his hands and bent his head to mine. His kiss began with infinite tenderness, an expression of love and gratitude that turned hot and demanding as I wrapped my arms around him. He pulled me against him until I had to straddle him so I could get close enough.
“I need you,” he murmured before tugging on my earlobe with his teeth.
“Yes,” I whimpered. “Please.”
Max grabbed my butt and stood up with me wrapped around him. He carried me that way into the bedroom and sank to the bed.
Chapter 30
Max
I must have dozed off after we finished making love. The next thing I knew, someone was pounding on my door so loud I thought they were trying to break it down. Caro lifted her head from my chest and frowned in the general direction of my living room.
“What’s going on out there?”
“I dunno,” I muttered. “But it’s pissing me off.”
She sat up and reached for her clothes. “We’d better get dressed.”
“You stay here, in case it’s something bad. I’ll answer.” I grabbed my jeans and yanked them on.
“Be careful.”
I smiled at her. “It’s probably nothing.”
The pounding continued as I walked barefoot and shirtless into my living room. Whoever it was needed to chill out. And I couldn’t imagine who it could be. I’d paid all my bills, on time and in full, and I didn’t have any enemies.
Except Trent.
I opened the door and there he was, glaring at me with more venom than I’d ever seen in his eyes before. He reeked of hard liquor. And my dad was with him.
Seeing my dad after so many years was like taking a baseball bat to my solar plexus. I almost lost the ability to breathe for a second. He looked pretty much the way I remembered, except a little thinner and grayer.
My hand tightened on the edge of the door. “What do you want?”
“I want my woman back.”
I snorted. “Your woman? She broke up with you. Move on.”
“She only did it because of you.”
“Dude, I believe she told you it was over.”
Trent growled, lunging toward me. My dad grabbed his arm to prevent him from jumping on me. “She told you it was over, too. But she’s back with you now. What the fuck did you do to her, you creepy piece of shit?”
I leaned against the doorjamb and crossed my arms over my chest, knowing my nonchalant pose would drive him insane. “We made up. Did you come all the way here just to hear me say that? And you had to bring Stepdaddy, too, I see.” There was no way I was going to acknowledge my father as mine. We’d gone beyond that years and years ago.
“What’s going on, Max?” Caroline said softly behind him.
“It’s nothing, baby. You don’t need to be part of this.”
“He’s put a spell on you, Caroline,” Trent shouted. “You need help.”
I laughed. “I thought you didn’t believe in magic.”
Throughout this whole exchange, my dad had been staring at me like he couldn’t believe his eyes. I looked right at him and smirked. “Trent’s lucky to have such a supportive stepfather.”
“You were always jealous of him,” my dad said.
I laughed again. “Jealous. Right.”
Caroline inserted herself between me and the space on the other side of the doorjamb. Damn it, she was supposed to stay in the bedroom. I glared at her, but she ignored me.
“I’m not coming back to you,” she said to Trent.
“Caroline—” he said.
She pointed at him. “We know what you did.”
I stared at her. So did the other two. What the hell was she doing? This wasn’t the time for a confrontation, not when Trent was drunk. He might do anything in this state. What if I couldn’t protect her from him? After all, there were two of them and only one of me.
I grounded my inner energy, centering myself in case I needed to take action.
Trent shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The bullets,” she said. “We know you put them in the gun.”
“What gun? I’m telling you, Caroline, he’s put some kind of spell on you. You know he’s capable of it.”
She put her arm around my bare waist in a show of support that made me want to kiss her. “The gun that killed Carter.”
He went so pale, his eyes so round, I knew instantly it was true. “No! I’d never do that.”
“Carter told us,” Caroline said.
“A ghost? Give me a break.” Trent gave a painfully artificial laugh.
“Trent, is this true?” my dad said, staring at him.
“No! It’s not true...I didn’t...I thought Max would play with it by himself.”
My dad’s eyes narrowed. “You thought he’d play with it by himself? So you did have something to do with the gun being loaded?”
“Yeah. No!” Trent glared at me with an expression of loathing. “You were supposed to shoot yourself, not Carter.”
My jaw dropped. My dad’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Trent’s eyes bugged out even further as he realized what he’d said. “That’s not what I meant. I just—I didn’t understand what I was doing. I was just a kid! I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“You were trying to kill me,” I said softly. “Weren’t you?”
He shook his head with an air of utter desperation. “No. I wasn’t. I didn’t mean for anyone to die. I only wanted you to get hurt.”
I snorted again. “You’ll forgive me if I have a hard time believing that.”
“Trent,” my dad said hoarsely. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this?”
Trent just stared at him blankly. In his eyes, I could see his world falling apart. He’d always been the good brother, the one I was supposed to emulate. Oops. Guess that position had just been vacated.
“Why are you here, anyway?” I said to my dad.
He glowered at me. “I came for Dad’s weekend, obviously.”
“Obviously.” ‘Cause I would know that, seeing as how I had such a great dad and all.
His lip curled in a sneer. “You drove him to it, you know. He wouldn’t have wanted you to shoot yourself if you weren’t such a complete fucking failure.”
My jaw went rigid and so did my spine. “Excuse me?”
Caroline took a step toward him, her eyes narrow with rage. I snagged her waist and tried to pull her back.
“You have no business talking to him that way,” she said. “He’s your son. What is wrong with you?”
He looked at her like she’d grown a second head. Then he laughed. “I think Trent has it right. He really has put a spell on you.”
With her free hand, she made a slashing gesture. “He doesn’t need a spell. He’s lovable the way he is.”
“Caro—” I said, embarrassed. She didn’t have to fight f
or me like this. It—I—wasn’t worth it.
“You do know he dabbles in the occult?” my dad continued, contempt in his voice and his eyes, fury in the clenching of his fists. “My son is a freak. He was always weird, always making trouble, especially after his mother died.”
“He was only five at the time,” Caroline said. “How can you say he was always making trouble when he was just a little kid? Didn’t it occur to you he was in pain?”
“You know, when you visited us,” my dad said, “I thought you were a nice girl. Just right for our Trent. Now I’m looking at you differently, Caroline. I don’t like what I see.”
“I hope you don’t expect me to give a damn,” she said.
“Baby, don’t bother fighting him,” I said, tugging on her waist. “He’s not worth it.”
She glanced up at me, pain in her big, brown eyes. She was hurting on my behalf. I didn’t want that, didn’t want her to hurt because of me, but at the same time it warmed me beyond measure that she would continue to stick up for me. Especially to my dad. Grown men were intimidated by him.
I tucked her into my side, her body warm against my bare skin, and faced down my father and stepbrother. “You two need to leave now.”
“Not without Caroline,” Trent said, swaying where he stood.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said. “I’m in love with Max. I love him. Can you get that through your thick skull?”
Trent swallowed hard. “How can you love him and not me?”
“He doesn’t make fun of me. He doesn’t cheat on me. He doesn’t put bullets in a gun hoping his brother will shoot himself. Would you like me to continue?”
Trent’s mouth opened and closed over and over, like a fish gasping in the air and begging for someone to throw it back in the water.
“You—” he finally said. “You’re a fucking bitch.”
“Thank you. Now get out.”
I smiled at him. “You heard the lady, Trent. Get out.”
Trent broke away from my dad and lunged at me, his beefy hands outstretched for my throat. My fist shot out so fast I didn’t realize I was punching him until I’d already clobbered him in the jaw. He staggered to the side, knocking into my dad and forcing him against the wall of the landing. Both of them let out grunts as they hit.