I rubbed my thumbs over my eyes before dragging my hand through my hair. “Today’s the day my brother died.” I set the coffee on the table and played with the lid, unable to meet the pity or even compassion sure to flash through Evie’s eyes.
Evie winced. “Oh.” Her voice was soft. “That’s why you come here, isn’t it?” I met her eyes, trying not to notice how the tense skin around her eyes eased.
“Yeah. I needed to find a way to channel the grief into something positive. My brother was in an accident—Army. An IED exploded. Five months later, once he realized he wasn’t going to walk again, he…”
“Was he your only sibling?” Evie’s voice was so soft with a small catch in her throat.
“Yeah. My big brother.”
Evie reached forward, prying my hand from the table’s edge. She smoothed out my stiff fingers and held my hand between both of hers. “I’m sorry. For all of you. My mom…she struggled with depression, which ultimately led to her addiction, before she died.”
I could tell by the look in her eyes that those words cost her, and I appreciated the honesty. She’d already told me she had an adoptive mom, which made me think her real mom hadn’t still been in the picture. Knowing Evie might understand my situation was a comfort, but the anniversary of Marcus’s death was still depressing as hell.
“Marcus was the glue that held us together after my dad cut out.”
We were quiet, both of us absorbing what I’d said…and what I hadn’t.
Eventually, Evie asked, “So what brought you here to Harborview?”
“I’m only taking three classes this semester—all I need to graduate. I’m behind the other guys because I ended up dropping my course load the semester Marcus came home.”
“To spend more time with him?”
I nodded. “He was in the VA for a few months.” I’d also hoped that my mother would see how dedicated I was to my brother’s health, but she never mentioned my daily trips to visit him. I pushed those thoughts away. “I have more time on my hands than I had before, and I wanted to do something. I read somewhere that getting involved was better even than donating money. For me, singing to kids is a better outlet than therapy. I like seeing the kids smile. Music helped Marcus, too.” For a while. “Being here, talking to these kids who’ve been through so much…it puts life back into perspective. You know?”
Her mouth softened nearly as much as her eyes. I’d treated her poorly, making assumptions when we first met. Not that I’d tell Evie this, but maybe I was here for her to tell me she forgave me for believing she was responsible for Paige’s troubles. Now, though, in this minute, I enjoyed sharing the burden of Marcus’s death with someone who understood.
“Then I can help you. Help me.” She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Whatever.”
“Evangeline Mercer. What are you doing out of your bed?”
“Getting in trouble with you, apparently,” Evie said with a smile.
I turned to see a statuesque woman bearing down on us.
“Mama M, this is my friend Kai. Kai, this is Marilyn.”
Evie winked at me, and I smirked back. She was so beautiful, but she had that unrepentant joy for life. Kind of like Jenna. I frowned. I didn’t want Evie to be anything like Jenna, whose wildness and unpredictability had nearly caused her death. Evie couldn’t follow that same path.
I wouldn’t let Evie do that.
Wait. What? I barely knew the woman. And Evie definitely wasn’t my responsibility.
“Nice to meet you,” Marilyn said to me, but her gaze fixed firmly on her adoptive daughter within a millisecond. “Evie, your lung was smashed flat seven days ago, and the doctor is still monitoring that internal bleeding.”
Well, that explained why Evie was still in the hospital. “It’s fine. Marcy wheeled me in here, and all I’ve done is sit and color. And now talk to Kai for a bit.”
“Well, you need to get back into your bed and work on healing up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Evie did look tired. Her freckles were more obvious against her pallor.
“Hand over your phone,” I said. “I’ll put my number in it.” After I entered my information, I handed it back. I stood, glancing around the cozy space. “I’ll be back in to see you sometime.”
“Sounds good. Next time you bring your guitar, I’d love to listen to you play. I’ll even smile to make you feel better,” she teased.
“I’ll make sure it’s your lucky week. See you around, Evie.”
“See you, Kai.”
Stepping out into the hall, I shoved my hands into my pockets, feeling lighter… and almost happy. Almost.
I couldn’t get back to the hospital to see Paige—or Evie, who I’d thought of much too often—for nearly a week, thanks to the round of midterms, band practice, and then heading up to Bellingham to visit my brother’s grave.
Standing there, I placed my hand on top of the headstone and remembered the last interaction I had with my brother.
I wouldn’t have been there at all if my mom hadn’t called me. I should have realized she was desperate if she asked me to stop in. For years, my mother and I butted heads. Marcus was the only person who could get my mother and I on the same side of any issue.
“He’s in a right funk and keeps asking to see you.” Mom’s voice had held censure.
I’d considered blowing her off because she tended to overstate Marcus’s problems.
“I’ll call him,” I said.
She hung up. Standard course for our interactions. I dialed Marcus’s number.
“Not gonna live in a wheelchair. Not doin’ it, bro.”
“What’s the problem?”
“I hate my life,” he’d muttered. “Hate it.”
Why Mom had waited to call me until my brother was in a deep state of depression, I would never know. I ran toward my car, my heart slamming against my ribs. “Don’t do anything stupid, man. Just talk to me. Keep talking to me.”
The third time Marcus had said he wasn’t living in a wheelchair, his voice rose, I’d pressed harder on the accelerator, hoping I would make it to my mother’s house before Marcus acted on his angst.
I’d hurried around my mother, who was in the driveway, talking to her neighbor. She had her purse on her arm and keys in her hand, so she was either returning from somewhere or about to leave. I shoved my phone into my pocket, my chest a snarl of fear and dread as I entered the house.
The moment I’d walked into his room, Marcus cursed my two working legs. Not that he didn’t still have two legs—he did, and he was damn lucky those and the rest of his limbs were still attached. While his injury had sucked major balls, he was the one who’d chosen to be on the bomb squad, and he was the reason he was still sitting in that stupid chair because he’d decided he’d always be paralyzed and refused to go to his physical therapy sessions.
“Hey, I’m here. Just like you asked. So, what’s the problem, man?” I’d asked.
“I’m a freak. A broken worthless excuse just weighing on society.”
“No, you’re not. You just need some time.”
“Don’t want to wait. Don’t want to be a freak.” He pulled his gun from behind his back, and my stomach iced over. I stared at the Berretta, willing Marcus to set it down. Instead, he turned the barrel toward his chest.
“Didn’t want you to see me do this, but I had to say goodbye. I wasn’t sure Mom would tell you I’d miss you the most.”
“Marcus.” My voice had cracked with all the emotion I tried to suppress. “Look. If you’d go to physical therapy—”
The safety was off, and I’d bet it was loaded. My breathing had escalated and my head buzzed. No plan had come, yet my muscles coiled, prepared to rip it from his hands.
“Cheryl got remarried. Did you know?” Marcus had dropped his chin to his chest. “I wish that IED had finished the job. Then I wouldn’t have to see Mom looking at me with such disappointment. Wouldn’t have to know another man with two working legs is screwing my wif
e.”
The gun slid from his slack grasp. I had darted forward, grabbing it and clicking the safety back on. I’d pulled out the magazine and poured the bullets into my shaking hand. A few fell to the floor, but Marcus didn’t seem to notice.
So, that’s what had brought this on. I didn’t know he and Cheryl still talked, let alone that Marcus still had feelings for her. “You’ve been divorced for three years, man.”
“She was supposed to wait. I was gonna fix it. Then I blew up.” Marcus had slammed his fists against the chair’s arms.
My brother’s listless rage had caused my own to blossom. I’d slammed the gun onto the dresser and grabbed Marcus by the front of his T-shirt, bringing his face—lifting his whole body—closer to mine. “It sucks that your spine got damaged, but those guys on the convoy—some of them lost legs, arms, eyes, and every one of them is doing something to get their lives in order. So, who’s the pussy, Marcus?” I’d paused long enough to shake him. “Committing suicide isn’t an answer.” My voice rose to a roar as the fear and frustration poured out of me.
I dropped my hands and Marcus stood, his legs wobbly but holding him upright. I stepped back, shocked. His mouth gaped, his eyes bulging as he held himself upright, the strain building across his face as his forehead and upper lip shone with sweat.
Marcus had gripped my shirt, his breath breaking like he’d sprinted around the house. When my arms started to shake from holding him upright, I lowered him back to his chair.
“What happened? Marcus, are you all right?”
Mom rushed over, her purse falling from her shoulder to thud to the floor, her eyes huge as they darted back and forth between me and Marcus. It had taken some maneuvering, but I situated Marcus in his wheelchair.
“What happened?” Mom’s voice had edged toward hysteria.
“Everything’s good.”
“Why’s he upset? What did you do?”
Marcus’s eyes had met mine, pleading with me not to tell her Marcus had contemplated blowing a hole in his chest just minutes ago. I had knelt and held Marcus, rocking him back and forth, just as he used to do for me when I was frightened by lightning or hurt by my mother’s lack of interest in me.
“Kai. Answer me.”
I wasn’t able to. My throat had been too dry, my hands shaking too much.
“Just telling Kai how much he means to me.” Marcus gripped my forearm, trying to get his emotions under control.
Even when Marcus left for basic training, he hadn’t told me he cared about me. That just wasn’t part of our family dynamic. Punching each other’s arm, maybe a head lock, but talking about emotions stopped the minute my dad had walked out.
Marcus’s lips had peeled back and his eyes squeezed shut. “And I stood up. For a second.”
“What?” Mom shrieked, pulling me from the puzzle of Marcus’s sudden need to tell me he cared. “How could you?”
This time, there was no pretending her voice didn’t sound accusatory. I mentally rolled my eyes, easier to do than admit her tone hurt me.
“Did you hurt him? I’ll call the doctor. Marcus, your spine—”
“Don’t. I have an appointment for tomorrow anyway.” Marcus had scrubbed his palms over his hollowed cheeks. “Don’t blame Kai.” He gripped the back of my head in his bigger, rougher palm. “Thank you for fighting for me.”
The moment shattered when I’d turned to look at my mother. Expecting her to finally—finally—look at me with pride, I was shocked at the look on her face . . . like I was a piece of refuse that wouldn’t scrape off the bottom of her shoe. The years of shrugging it off didn’t make it any easier to accept that my mom had a favorite, but I’d perfected the art of appearing not to care years ago, even if her words and actions hurt me.
“Oh, honey. My baby.” She fell to her knees, their cheeks touching as she hugged him. I stood back and watched my family have a moment without me. Nothing new there. Having them in my life was going to have to be enough.
I’d been more than willing to pull every string I could to get Marcus a spot in a facility with an excellent reputation for getting disabled people as much independence as possible, and thanks to my bandmate and buddy Clay, Marcus had a bed at the best facility in the region. Both Clay and his father had probably greased the bureaucratic machine. Not that they’d tell me if they had. While it had tweaked my pride to ask for help—and let them pay for it—I hadn’t been willing to say no to Marcus’s best opportunity. I’d looked at my brother—the man who’d taught me to kayak, fish, play guitar, and practice safe sex.
I bent down and picked up the bullets littering the floor. I grabbed the firearm off the dresser and shoved it into my jeans’ waistband.
“I gotta go,” I’d said.
Mom stood slowly, her gaze caught on my fist, which still held a bullet. Yeah, Mom, he was in seriously bad shape, something I fixed. I waited, hand squeezing the cool metal deeper into my palm. Her eyes were darker than mine, but we shared the same shape and long, thick lashes.
“Thank you, Kai,” she’d said. Her voice had cracked. “Thank you for helping Marcus.”
She wrapped her arms around me. I patted her once, an awkward show of affection at best. She stepped out of the embrace, but not as quickly as I’d expected, wiping her eyes. “We got this. Marcus and I.” She cleared her throat, faced me.
The polite mask was back in place. What had I done to deserve that stranger-look in my own family? I’d been eight when my dad left—a mere child myself.
Marcus snagged my hand, his grip tight enough to make me wince. “Remember what I said. Love you, bro,” he said, sounding just like he had when our dad split, and Marcus didn’t know how to take care of Mom or me.
I refused to look at my mom, anticipating an unhappy expression on her face. Instead, I crouched down to his eye level. “I’d do anything for you, buddy,” I said, my voice quiet. This was between my brother and me.
“I know, and I appreciate it. Always.” He huffed out a breath. “Thanks, bro.”
That night, after my mother fell asleep, Marcus opened the gun safe and took out another pistol. I never saw my brother alive again. I hadn’t spoken to my mother in more than the most cursory of conversations since she called to tell me Marcus was dead.
I pounded my fist on top of the cool rock.
“Miss you, buddy. Every damn day.”
With those last words, I turned and left the cemetery, breathing a sigh of relief I hadn’t run into my mother. I’d hoped waiting three days after the anniversary of Marcus’s death would allow me time to grieve in private.
It had. And it was really fucking lonely.
Evie’s name popped up in my display. Huh. I hadn’t spoken to her since she comforted me in the kids’ room at the hospital late last week. Pressing the Talk button, I lifted the phone to my ear as I fiddled with the keys, glad to be out of my car. The drive back to my condo had taken an additional hour, thanks to construction on I-90. My stomach growled again. Food, stat.
“Hey, Evie.”
“Kai.”
She paused and my pulse tripped. Her voice was breathy, but not in a sexy, I-want-you-to-kiss-me kind of way. No. She was upset.
“What’s wrong?” I headed into the kitchen and opened the fridge, searching for something edible. I pulled out last night’s Chinese takeout. I opened the box and shoved my fork in the cold noodles, too hungry to wait for it to heat up in the microwave.
The day had been long, and I was tired of all the guilt and other emotions I sped through at the cemetery. I still couldn’t understand my brother’s decision, but I was beginning to accept that he was really gone. I hated that reality. I missed Marcus. Holy hell, I missed him—my brother, fatherly role model, and best friend rolled into one.
I turned back to the fridge, planning to grab a beer.
“It’s about Paige.”
“Is she okay?” I slammed the fridge door shut, hand empty. My stomach howled. I picked up the to-go container and my keys. “I�
��m on my way.”
“Paige’s fine. I’m in her room right now.”
I dropped everything back onto the counter, my heart rate too fast. “Shit, Evie. You scared me.”
“Well, it’s not good news. Her mom died. A couple of hours ago.”
5
Evie
I closed my eyes against the harshness of Kai’s response. The string of curses was creative and impressive, and I agreed with them all.
When Chelle had stopped by my room a while ago I simply smiled, glad to see her—she and I chatted often. I loved that Paige’s nurse had started to visit me at the end of her shift, updating me on the little cutie. Unfortunately, tonight her tightly-drawn lips and wobbling chin caused my throat to ache with fear for Paige.
“Hi, there.” I’d climbed out of bed and had made the lap to the bathroom and back. My legs felt somewhere between rubber and lead, but I’d managed the distance alone. Getting me closer to my independence. “What’s up?”
Chelle’s face crumpled. Oh, no. My heart climbed into my throat. I grasped the edge of my bed, trying to be strong for the words I prayed weren’t coming.
“I thought you’d want to know. Paige’s mom… she died about an hour ago.”
“I—I thought she was doing better.” The words sounded accusatory. Stupid.
“The internal bleeding started up again,” Chelle spread out her hands. “I went down to talk to the ICU staff, but I didn’t know anyone on duty. I only have the bare bones, but I wanted you and Marcy to know.”
“Have you told Paige?”
Chelle’s lower lip trembled. “She held my hand while Dr. Ngu explained the situation. Holy shit, that was hard.”
“How’d she take it?” I asked. My voice broke and I clenched my jaw tight to keep it from trembling. Tears changed nothing.
“She clutched the bunny you gave her. Asked for you and Kai. You were getting an MRI, and Kai told us the other day he wouldn’t be in again until tomorrow afternoon.”
Seattle Sound Series, The Collection: Books One to Five Page 100