Page 41 of Third Time Lucky

In the past, I’ve enforced the ‘don’t ask’ rule. It’s the one topic that’s always off the table. But that is eating me alive right now.

‘I dunno,’ I admit, a chaos of emotions swirling inside. ‘It’s all coming at me pretty hard lately, and it’d be nice to have someone on the outside’s opinion.’

He hops up onto the countertop, signaling his readiness to listen.

‘You know how firm I am about not drinking and driving?’

‘I know you’ll spend the next three hours here so the very small sips of Jack don’t affect you later, so yeah…’

‘Well, that’s because Kris and I had been sneaking Dad’s bourbon earlier that night, and made a really bad decision. I was in the car behind him when it happened.’

His jaw drops in disbelief. ‘Youwitnessedit?!’

‘I’m the guy who called 911,’ I say, feeling the memory crash over me like a wave – suffocating me as it always does. ‘Then I volunteered to tell his girlfriend, which was way harder than I’d anticipated. A couple weeks after the funeral was her senior prom, and I’d heard through the grapevine that she was going to stay home. I…’ I drop my head, the past unexpectedly clawing at me. ‘I couldn’t let that happen so, I borrowed one of Dad’s old suits and took her.’

Aaron’s eyebrows are raised in shock. ‘Are there photos?’

‘Somewhere, I’m sure.’

‘Wow.’ He rubs the back of his neck. ‘Dad’s suits were bad.’

‘The suit isn’t the point of the story,’ I say, tipping up the bottle. ‘I’m now caught in an endless maze of regret, one moment feeling suffocated by his ghostly presence, the next finding a strange comfort in a woman he loved.’

‘Yikes,’ he says as he shakes his head, trying to process this information. ‘Wait a second.’ He grabs me by the arm, turning me around – his finger jabbing at the back of my left bicep. ‘Kris,’ he reads the name tattooed on my arm out loud. ‘He still haunts you? That’s why you’ve got the dude’s name tattooed on you in big bold letters?’

‘He was my friend, assface, that’s why I got it. I try not to remember the rest.’

He walks around to face me, giving me a severe look. ‘Where’s my name? I’m your brother, don’t I deserve a spot for eternity on your skin?’

‘Die, and I’ll tattoo Aaron across my chest.’

‘Deal. Write that down,’ he says, grabbing a piece of scrap paper and a pen. ‘I want a guarantee.’

‘Shut up,’ I say, rolling my eyes while shoving his paper out of my face. ‘This is serious. I’ve always felt responsible, especially as I told her what happened that night.’

‘I probably would of too,’ he says, staring at me awkwardly. ‘Vegas is suddenly making much more sense.’

‘See. My history and Lucy’s is complicated to the point that I don’t know if “feelings” are allowed.’

‘I mean, I kinda see it, but it’s been twelve years. It’s only still complicated if you let it be.’

I shake my head, taking another swig. ‘What am I supposed to do now that I know she likes me?’

I groan, now pacing the restaurant, one hand clasped on the back of my neck and the other gripping this bottle of Jack like it’s bringing some peace. Memories I’ve attempted to forget flood through me, and I’d do anything to have a stop button on my brain right now.

Aaron scrunches his face in confusion. ‘You were a teenager.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Rough as it was back then, it sorta seems like it’s something you should both be over by now.’

I sit in one of the many chairs around the room, leaning forward, my elbows on my knees and the Jack in my hands. ‘People don’t get over death, douchebag. It sticks with you, painfully forever.’

‘Well, I guess you better pull up that therapy app from your phone and tell your psychiatrist because I think you’re being ridiculous.’

‘That’s great. You’re helpful. So glad we talked,’ I say sarcastically.

He reads the room, shooting me a glare, then letting out a heavy sigh as he walks closer towards me.

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