Page 52 of Tell Me Again
Sam tried to pull away. She felt nauseated one moment and empty the next. It felt like she was floating above where she sat, watching Trevor hold her hands, rubbing them gently as if to bring her back to life.
No one could help her, just like she hadn’t been able to help the girl who’d come to Bryce Hollow desperate for a second chance. She hadn’t felt this way since Bryce died.
She’d been in Paris at the time, preparing for a photo shoot with a world-famous photographer for a magazine cover in Europe. A distant relative had called to give her the news of her sister’s death, raging at Sam for not doing more to save Bryce from the demons that plagued her. As much as Sam hated to admit it, the call hadn’t been a total surprise.
The bond that connected her to Bryce had been strong even through their estrangement. Sam had woken in the wee hours the previous night, heart hammering and a splitting pain radiating from her chest throughout her entire body.
She’d tried to get to the bathroom but her legs had crumpled under her and she’d ended up on the floor of the small flat she’d shared with three other models. They’d wanted to take her to the emergency room but she’d refused, knowing her symptoms had something to do with Bryce. At the time she’d assumed her twin had gotten into some particularly bad trouble. But as soon as she heard the voice on the other end of the line... she knew.
Today’s phone call had been a shock and made her question everything she’d been trying to do for the past five years.
“Did you know that fifty percent of twins die within two years of their sibling?”
“Sam.”
“After Bryce’s funeral, it was like I became her. It was a delusion but the only way I knew to keep her with me. I hadn’t just lost a sister, Trevor. I lost me. The power of her memory was so strong, I saw my sister when I looked in the mirror. The irony was that I made my living by having my picture taken, and every one of them was a reminder of Bryce. I mimicked her downward spiral of self-destruction because it seemed like the only way I could keep her. Her ghost became my constant companion.”
Trevor was still holding her hands and she looked at where their fingers were linked and tried to let the warmth of his skin seep into hers. But it was like there was a barrier around her. She was sealed off from everything, cocooned in her own misery.
“I wanted to die,” she admitted. “Just so that I’d have the chance to be with her again. I’d pulled away from her in life, but I couldn’t let go of her in death. Not until I returned to Colorado. I realized my life was mine, just as Bryce’s death belonged to her. This place gave me hope when I had none. But now—”
He gave her a small shake. “Sam, who died?”
She drew in a shuddery breath. “One of my campers. Whitney came here the past three summers. She was a great kid, smart and funny and... God, how she loved Frank. She wanted to be a vet. Such a classic dream for an animal lover, right?”
“What happened?”
She still couldn’t imagine what had gone so wrong with that beautiful girl. “She was with a boy she’d met here. They were both from Houston. A lot of our campers come from big cities. That’s part of the mission of the camp, exposing the kids to things they wouldn’t see in their daily life. Whitney and Brandon were sixteen. They each came from difficult backgrounds. Whitney’s mom killed her father during an argument, and she’s been living with her grandma the past seven years.” She took another breath as the words poured out of her. “The grandma had a stroke just before that and I think the caregiving was a lot to take on for a young girl. Brandon is the youngest of six siblings, a mix of full, half, and step. Two of his older brothers are in jail for gang-related crimes, and we were working with social services in the Houston area to try to make sure he didn’t follow that path.”
“But he did?” Trevor prompted when she paused.
“A little here and there. I thought we had a breakthrough last summer.” She let out a humorless laugh. “I thought Whitney was part of the breakthrough. They were inseparable. We monitored it, counseled both of them to take things slow.”
“Teenagers love to take things slow,” Trevor said dryly.
“It seemed almost innocent. They were such good friends. Whitney smoothed out his rough edges and he was a support for her, someone she could have fun with when so much of her life was serious.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I should have forced them to put the brakes on it. I didn’t realize...”
“Was there an accident?”
She drew in another breath and forced herself to meet his gaze. “She overdosed at a party she went to with Brandon. According to the social worker that called me, it was ecstasy but I don’t have any details. I called Whitney’s grandma but she’s not answering. I can’t get a hold of Brandon. I’m flying down to Houston for the funeral. This never should have happened. Kids like Whitney are the reason I created Bryce Hollow, to give them the tools to make the right choices and—”
She bolted out of the chair, knocking Trevor back, and moved to the edge of the room. She couldn’t sit still a moment longer with the guilt and frustration clawing at her insides. She lifted her fingers to touch one of the framed photos hanging on the wall. At the end of each session, she took a picture of the campers and staff in front of the lake. She searched the photo until she found Whitney’s smiling face, Brandon standing next to her, his arm draped casually around her shoulders.
Sam was devoted to all the kids who attended Bryce Hollow, but there were certain ones who were special to her. Whitney had been one of those.
Had been.
She yanked the frame from the wall and hurled it against the door. Glass shattered as the picture crashed to the floor. When Trevor’s arms snaked around her, she fought him, refusing to take any comfort in the face of her failure. Her continual failure.
He didn’t let go, stayed with her as she thrashed and flailed. Eventually the fight drained out of her. Her anger faded as grief engulfed her. She would have slumped to the rug if he wasn’t holding her.
“You need to leave,” she whispered, her throat raw and scratchy.
“You can’t be alone right now,” he said against her ear.
“I mean for good.” Her head dropped forward, resting against his arm, her blond hair shielding her face from his view. “I’ll find someone else to finish the work here. You have to keep Grace away from me.”
His arms tightened. “Don’t say that.”
