Page 7 of Lit Up by My Brother's Best Friend

Sitting upright, I hold my hands in a T. “Pause the movie. What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“Hunter, don’t make a big deal out of this.” When she turns to me, her normally bright and cheerful eyes are dispirited.

I grab her hand. As I said, tonight is the night for consolation. “I won’t make a big deal out of this if you don’t want me to.” My thumb—swear to God, with a mind of its own—brushes the top of her hand. “It seems like maybe there’s something going on tonight.”

“Fine,” she exhales roughly and sags against the back of the couch, pulling her hand out of mine. I lean on the back of the couch with her. “Since you’re dragging it out of me, I’ll tell you. It’s quite simple. Never. Have. I Ever.”

Clearly the words have meaning to her, so I encourage her with my go-to prompt. “Okay…”

“Well, Hunter, I have never ever.”

“I see.” I don’t.

“Ugh. You don’t get it.”

She’s right, but I’m not about to admit that. “Why don’t you explain it to me?”

“I’m just the good girl.”

“What’s wrong with being the good girl?” Her growl in response would indicate to me that there’s a helluva lot wrong with being the good girl.

“I’ve never done anything bad. No, it’s not that I need to do something bad, I just don’t even take any risks.”

Okay. The pieces are starting to click. “Hence the concert?”

“Yup,” she nods.

“I see.” And now I do. “And spin the bottle?”

“Yup.” She sits up. “Just ignore me. This is ridiculous. I’m twenty-seven and I’m whining about never having played spin the bottle. I’m just being a dingus.”

“A dingus?” I splutter.

She swats me. “Yes.” But then she smiles, and her whole face lights up, and I love it. Her smile is the best thing in the world. It might (and I say this with caution) even be better than her snickerdoodles. Not sure I should ever tell her that though.

“It’s okay to have regrets.”

“This is such a dumb one though.” She’s fidgeting with her fingers. “Do you have any regrets?”

An elephant sits on my chest at the question. She can’t possibly know the regrets I have accumulating on my shoulders. “Far too many.”

“Really? You? But you’re so…perfect.”

“Right.” And since I can’t share any of the regrets I have that involve her, and since I know she’s opened up to me, I’m more than willing to do thesame. May as well lay it on her. “I regret letting my mom die in my arms.”

Silence. Ya. I knew that was coming. Why did I unload on her?

She’s silent for so long that I know I’ve damaged whatever bond we were forming. What kind of son would let his own mother die in his arms? There’s no redemption from that. I know that. I’ve accepted that, and I’m fine being on my own.

But then I hear her sniffle. When I look up, tears are streaming down her face, and even though she’s swiping at them, they’re pouring down too fast.

“It wasn’t your fault, Hunter.”

“I know—”

Her hands are cupped around my jaw and she’s staring into my eyes like there’s a message she needs to impart from the universe.

“It wasn’t your fault, Hunter.”

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