The last thing I wanted was to sit in a church, dressed in black. Not again. I didn’t want to hear the soft sniffles and the louder cries. “I’ll see you there.”
Brett nodded and headed for his truck.
I zipped my coat up higher, the cold of the altitude setting in, and then grabbed my gear from the trunk. I ignored the protest my back made as I hoisted the backpack. Then I strapped Gizmo’s carrier on. By the time I opened the back passenger door, he was dancing.
I lifted him out and placed him in the contraption probably made for babies. “You know I’d never leave you behind on an adventure.”
He licked my chin.
I let out a laugh. It felt damn good. Gizmo was always a balm to my soul.
I started up the trail, thankful that I wouldn’t have to worry about running into anyone else. At three in the afternoon in the dead of winter, I’d have the place to myself. I lost myself in the rhythm of my feet on packed dirt and the sounds of nature.
It all soothed away some of the worst of the day. But it wasn’t quite enough. That would come, though. As the trail bent, I veered off, finding the exact place I wanted. The meadow had gone golden after going through the summer and fall months without much rain.
The sea of dried-up color was perfect against the craggy mountain. I slid off my backpack first. Opening it, I pulled out a blanket for Gizmo, then my camera gear. Once he was positioned back with his bully stick, I got to work setting up the tripod.
I tried a few different positions before landing on one. I brought the tripod low to give myself a unique angle on all the elements I wanted. Shrugging off my jacket, I stepped in front of the lens.
The only thing I did was breathe. Inhale and let the emotions come. Exhale and set them free.
I thought of Kay’s broken grief. Jax’s rage. Serena’s version of numbing. The way Chip was barely hanging on.
I thought of how badly I wanted to fix it all for them. My hands fisted in the grass at my impotence in all of it. I clicked the remote to the shutter.
I sank deeper into the grass, turning my head into the breeze as it picked up. Tears tracked down my cheeks as I let it all go. The pain, the grief, the brokenness.
I let every emotion fly and tried to capture them all.
11
Boden
My phone buzzedin my cupholder as I turned off the main road and onto a smaller one that curved around the mountain. I pressed a button on my steering wheel, and an animatronic voice read out the message. “From unknown number. You think you’re so much better than me. You’re not. Carissa didn’t think you were better. She picked me in the end. Me—”
I fumbled to hit the button again. Even with that disembodied voice reading the words, I could still hear my brother’s tone bleeding through. Nausea swept through me, and I pulled into a trailhead, rolling down my window. I needed air.
I swiped up my phone, staring at the screen. Another text message popped up.
Unknown Number:You’re a coward. Running and hiding. What do you think would happen if the media found out where you were?
I locked the phone, throwing it onto the passenger seat. My rib cage tightened, making it hard to breathe. I’d never escape Eli. Never be free. My hands flexed around the wheel, the desire to move strong. To run like my brother had accused me of. But it was only to try to get away fromhim.
I rolled up the window and climbed out of my truck, beeping the locks. I had to get out some of the energy thrumming through me. I hadn’t planned for a hike, but at least I had on boots and a jacket. I’d just go for a little while. Long enough to slow the thrumming at my pulse points and still the twitch in my muscles.
I started up the trail with only my keys. I should’ve brought my phone to send it hurtling over a cliff. So much betrayal. And with Eli, it had become an obsession. Any way he could find to knock me down a peg, he took.
Beyond the grief of losing Carissa, that was where most of my pain lingered. The fact that Eli would do anything to hurt me. His own brother. And for what? Because I’d had more success in the business? That I shared that love with Mom and Dad?
Eli had tried his hand at a few different things in entertainment. Acting? You had to show up to set too early. Producing? Too detail-oriented. He’d even played in a band for a while. He’d been damn good at that, but it had ultimately only led to more partying. Nothing lasted more than a few months tops, and after a while, people stopped giving him shots.
Somehow, that was my fault, too. I could hear his voice echoing in my head. “They all want me to be you.”
We used to be similar. Had the same interests, which usually revolved around us chasing Carissa around our Brentwood property. Epic games of hide-and-seek. Those had evolved into some sort of water gun tag in the summer.
Dad would put up a big tent in the backyard, and we’d camp out. He’d tell stories, and we’d make s’mores. Even with the media attention, and the kind of pressure that growing up in the spotlight put on us, we’d had a good childhood.
But somewhere along the line, that had changed. Middle school, maybe? Carissa and I had started dating, and Eli had fallen in with a rougher crowd. Kids whose parents gave them so much free rein, they had no consequences.