Page 52 of Sass

“Fucking hell.” Chris pressed a run of kisses to my shoulder.

“My whole family was shattered.”

“You must miss her so much.” The hot breath of his words washed over my neck.

“We all do.” I focused on the wall in front of me, and another of those devastating sweet kisses landed on my shoulder, melting right through to my heart.

“She was your twin. I can’t even imagine what that must’ve been like, losing her.”

I swallowed around the lump of concrete in my throat.

“Sorry,” Chris whispered. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

I reached a hand over my shoulder and stroked his cheek. “It’s okay. At the time it felt like I’d died as well. And for a long time after, I lived like I was gonna make damn sure that happened. I blamed myself. Drank too much. Fucked even more. Almost lost my business.” The words were out before I could stop them, the honesty of the admission on my lips shocking the hell out of me.

Chris stilled for just a couple of seconds, then he gathered me even closer in his arms. “You don’t have to explain that to me. Been there. Enough said. But Caitlyn also chose to get into that car, right? She must’ve known what her friend was like as a driver.”

“My head knows that,” I admitted with a heavy sigh. “But my heart keeps reminding me it wouldn’t have happened if I’d just taken her that night.”

Chris tucked his knees in behind mine and started to rock us together, slowly back and forth, the beat of his heart like soft thunder on my back, undoing me a stitch at a time until I was frayed in his arms. Until the tears started to fall. Until the fight to hold my whole fucking world together in front of him fell away. And then it was just me. Not the sensible older brother. Not the worrying son. Not the half a twin left, trying to keep going. Not the man trying desperately to plug a gaping hole in his life.

Just me.

And somehow, with Chris’s limbs entwined around mine like a damn octopus, that was okay. I might not get to keep him, but I trusted him—a realisation which pretty much blew my mind. And after months of refusing to talk to anyone in my family about how I was feeling about the anniversary, when it came to Chris, I couldn’t seem to stop.

“We’ve done this remembrance thing as a family every year on the day Caitlyn died. Evie flies in from Brisbane and we all go to the site of the accident and then on to Caitlyn’s grave. Afterward, we head back to Mum and Dad’s, have a meal of her favourite foods, look at some photos, and relive the whole awful ordeal all over again like it was yesterday.”

“Tell me more,” he whispered.

And so I did, part of me wondering how it would sound to someone who didn’t know Caitlyn or my family, and especially seven years down the track. Did Chris think I was crazy too? I waited for him to comment, but he said nothing, and the relief and gratitude I felt at that gave me the courage to keep going.

“Mum and Dad somehow stopped us from falling apart, and for a while the anniversary thing gave us all an opportunity to blow off steam about it every year. But now it seems the others are finding it too... intense. They want to move on and focus on more positive things about Caitlyn. Not just for them, but for Susie as well.”

Chris stroked my cheek. “But not you.”

I turned my lips into his palm and dropped a kiss there. “No, not me. I get what they’re saying, but I’m not ready. Or I’m stuck. Or something. I want them to do what they need to for themselves, but at the same time, I’m furious with them for having the audacity to move on with their lives.” I winced. “Sounds ridiculous when I say it like that.”

“Is that what you think they’re doing?” he asked gently.

And I knew what he was trying to do. “No, it’s not. I know they’re trying to deal with it in the best way for them, just like I am, but I’ve said some shitty stuff lately. They’re actually having a family meeting about it tonight, and they want me to be there.”

Chris went still at my back.

“I know. But I’m scared I’ll screw up and say something I can’t take back, because no matter what I understand in my head, I can’t shake the feeling that she’s being forgotten, and yet at the same time, I know that’s nuts. Why is that?”

Chris huffed. “Don’t ask me. I’m no therapist. Lord knows, my own issues have issues and then some. But here’s a random thought for you. Maybe it’s not them you’re worried about forgetting her. Maybe it’s you.”

I jerked my head around to see his face. “Me?”

He shrugged. “Ignore me. As I said, I’m no therapist. I can’t imagine how tough it is to lose family like that.”

I rested my face back on my pillow and sighed. “Kevin thinks I should be talking to a therapist.”

Chris hesitated before carefully asking, “And what do you think?”

Excellent question. “That was very diplomatic of you,” I pointed out. “Which is somewhat surprising.”

He chuckled.

---