Page 8 of Wiley A.F.

Z

“Z, baby, it’s time to go,” Dave spoke slowly and cautiously.

“I can’t do it, Dave. I just can’t fucking do it.”

“We need to buy him a suit.”

“Why? What’s the point? He won’t know what he’s wearing. None of it fucking matters,” I snapped with a shake of my head, clutching the covers and pulled them around my body.

“Oh, girl. You’re right, he won’t, but you will.” His lips clamped together as a soft sob left his mouth.

“Dave, I see what happened over and over every time I close my damned eyes. Every time. Every day, I replay what went on, trying to figure out if there was something I missed. Something that could have saved him. What am I missing?” I cried, sniffing back the tears I refused to let fall—the tears that surprisingly didn’t come. This was the first time I wasn’t a bawling mess since Malcom was killed. A huge ball gathered in my throat, and I swallowed it, refusing to give in to the grief that threatened to completely devour me. When Malcom died, a war was waged inside my body, and I fought myself to stay on this earth daily. If this was survivor’s guilt, I took pity on anyone who survived someone dying who was as close to them as Malcom had been to me.

“It’s just…I can’t today, Dave. Tomorrow?” I faked a smile, peeking around the blanket cocoon at him. “Or you could pick it out. We both know Malcom would agree.”

“Fine, but only because you’re giving me a guilt trip.” He blew out a breath, palming my cheek, and closed his eyes.

“And we both know my taste is awful.”

“There’s that, too, but I was being polite.”

“Thank you.” I sat up and took his hand in mine, giving it a small squeeze.

“I’ll add it to the list of things you’ll repay at some point in our lives.”

“You keep a list?”

“What? Of course, I do. Bitch doesn’t work for free.” He smiled, pulling me into his arms for a hug. The smallest of sobs snuck out of my mouth and then another followed. My body silently shook as I fell apart in my best friend’s arms all over again. Ever since the worst day of our lives, he’d been picking up the broken pieces of my soul, trying to find their original places so he could fix me. Only, I didn’t have the heart to tell him I wasn’t the same person, and I was certain I never would be again. Those were fragments of someone else who was utterly clueless that she had a perfect life. As stupid as it sounded, I was jealous of the woman I used to be. Now, there wasn’t even enough life left inside me to be considered a person. I was a ghost. I wanted to cry for the rest of my wretched existence, but no tears were in my eyes. It was as if all my tears had been used up—I guess I had met my quota of misery, at least it felt like it.

“Z?” Dave quietly whispered, petting my hair.

“Yeah?”

“I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you’re going to be okay. We both are,” he assured me, dabbing away the tears from his face, and cleared his throat. “Because that’s what we have to do. We’ll always love him, but he wouldn’t want us to wallow in self-pity. At least we aren’t as big of pieces of shit as his brother.”

“You’re right.” I forced myself to grin as I lied to him, wondering if he could tell how fake it was. Maybe he believed that, but I didn’t for one second. The big difference between us had always been I didn’t lie to myself. I had accepted I was better off dead than polluting the world with my unbearable presence. In my current state, I wasn’t able to stand myself, so staying among the world of the living seemed pointless.

I gasped as his words sank into my body. “Did you say brother?”

“Oh, that’s right. Malcom skipped our dinner together and went out with his brother, which I was fine with. They were going to surprise you on the big day since you always wanted to know more about Malcom’s past before we met him.”

All the air felt stagnant, and despite how hard and fast my chest was moving, it felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen in my body. “Why would he keep that a secret, Dave?” It felt wrong to question Malcom on the subject without him being here to defend himself, but who did that? “His brother is alive, or is it another one? After all this time? Where has he been? Malcom said his only brother died in a fire with his mother during his freshman year in high school. It’s why he transferred into our school for his sophomore year. His uncle took him in because he had no one else. And when he was old enough, his uncle began to teach him the family business. They have more of a father/son relationship than anything."

I hated that his past was with filled such heartache. It was a touchy subject for him, one which he had only discussed with me a few times. Malcom and his uncle were close, and yet, his uncle, in my opinion, was overly harsh with him. But honestly, I’d only been to their house a handful of times. Maybe I didn’t see them together enough. The only thing I was sure of was he missed his mom and brother. His eyes were always fixated in the distance, and he would squirm in his seat any time they were brought into the conversation.

“Dave, did you know he had another brother? Is this a recent development? Maybe a hidden love child?”

“No, but I wouldn’t overthink it, girl. They probably didn’t get along, and he was keeping you safe.”

Although I didn’t agree with his assumptions at all, I absentmindedly nodded my head. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course, I am.”

7

WILEY

THREE WEEKS PRIOR

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