Page 69 of The Do-Over

“Again, whoareyou?” I took a sip of the rich, decadent hot chocolate coffee and looked at his strong jaw. “How do you know about this?”

“My brother used to live in this building,” he said, still looking at something far away. “So every time I came over, we always hung out up here.”

“Lucky. My siblings are tiny and not really myrealsiblings. Where does he live now?”

I was staring out at the fountain but when Nick didn’t answer, I turned to him. Fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves, he sighed and said, “Yeah, this is awkward. He doesn’t.”

Oh no. THE accident. “Um, Nick, I—”

“He died in an ATV accident.”

“Nick, I amsosorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s okay; it’s not like it just happened. I mean, it’s been, like, a year.”

“Ayear? That’s not a very long time at all.” A year was like it happened yesterday.

“It’s fine.” He didn’t look devastated, like there was fresh grief. He looked… weighed down with it. Exhausted by it. Drained by it as he gave me a tired smile. “I didn’t mean to drop that on you. It’s so weird to talk about.”

“Well—”

“It’s actually a year today.” He swallowed and looked like he was trying to sound casual when he said, “He died last Valentine’s Day.”

“Seriously?”

He gave me a half-smile and said, “How’s that for a Hallmark holiday, right?”

“I would want to drop-kick everyone talking about flowers and candy, if I were you.” It felt sick, the idea of someone dying on a day where people sent balloon bouquets and heart-shaped pizzas. I also felt like a total baby for feeling sorry for myself about my parents’breakup anniversary when Nick was dealing withthis. “Like, who gives a crap?”

That made his smile grow just a little. “Right?”

It totally made sense now, the way he lived his adult-in-a-high-school-body kind of life. How would things like prom and parties and basketball games seem like anything other than pointlessness after experiencing a loss like that?

“I totally get it if you don’t want to DONC with me, Nick.” I set my cup on the railing beside where he’d set his, shoved my hands in my pockets, and felt guilty for dragging him along on my adventures. “Maybe you’d rather—”

“Hang out with my parents and listen to how quiet the house is? Nah—this is way better.”

I followed him over to a bench that sat next to a dead plant on the roof’s corner. He sat down, and when I sat beside him, he grabbed my sleeve and pulled me closer. Slid me into him so my back was leaning against his front. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and rested his chin on top of my head.

“This okay?” he murmured, and his voice vibrated through every follicle of hair on my head.

“Mm-hmm,” I replied.

We sat there like that, quietly watching the world all laid out in front of us, for what felt like a very long time. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though—just silent.

“Y’know, the weirdest thing about it is the disconnect in my brain between life and death.” Nick’s voice was nonchalant when he said, “I can spend an hour thinking about the fact that he’s dead,but then five minutes later if I hear a noise down the hall, I’ll think bizarre shit like,E must be taking a shower. It’s like my brain knows but my memory forgets or something.”

“Um—that’s so incredibly awful.”

“In a way.” His voice was quiet, and the sun made my cheeks marginally less cold as he said, “But part of me likes that confusion because for that half-second, it feels like things are normal. Weird, right?”

“Not at all.” My heart hurt for him, and I set my hand on top of his. “But the half-second after that half-second has to be awful.”

“The worst.” He made a half-laugh, half-groan noise and said, “How did you know that?”

“I don’t know how it couldn’t be.” I ran my finger over his knuckle and asked him, “Were you two close?”

“Yeah. I mean, close the way brothers three years apart are close. We spent most of our childhood fighting, but we were always together.”

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