Page 178 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
His eyes flickered—stunned, almost—as if he hadn’t expected me to look happy.
“I have about a million questions, Lis,” he said, leaning back and watching me carefully. “When Mom told me what you were doing, I couldn’t believe it. I mean, driving across the country with some girl you just met?”
A soft laugh escaped me, and I shook my head. “I shocked myself, to be honest. But it’s been one of the best experiences of my life.”
I left out the part where a ghost had forced me into it.
“I’ll bet,” Thomas said, a spark in his eyes. “I felt that way the first time I flew overseas. I mean, I was flying into a war zone, but it was just…being so far away from home, far from the life I knew and the pressure I felt. It was liberating and terrifying all at once. And I’d do it all over again.”
I nodded quickly, my heart tugging toward his words. “Exactly. I mean, I’ve had my fair share of meltdowns, but Dove, the girl I’m traveling with… she’s been amazing.”
Thomas’s eyes sharpened at the name, and he tilted his head. “So, does this Dove mean something to you?”
Heat rushed to my face immediately, and I heard Liv cough behind me in the other booth. I nearly scoffed. Ghosts don’t cough.
Before I had to stammer out an answer, the waitress approached, topping off Thomas’s empty coffee mug and setting down a pitcher of water. I thanked her a little too robustly and fumbled for my pill case like it was a lifeline. I didn’t miss the way Thomas’s eyes flicked to it, softening slightly, though he made no comment.
Instead, we ordered food. I took a lunch special while Thomas asked for a burger and a milkshake.
As soon as the waitress left and I had downed my pills and tucked my case away, Thomas leaned back in, relentless.
“So,” he said, raising a brow. “Does she?”
I swallowed, my thumb worrying the edge of the table, and shrugged. “I mean, yeah. She does.”
Thomas grinned widely. “Good. You look good, Lis. Alive. Far better than you looked at your party. You even have a bit of a tan, I think.”
His words hit me like a bullet.
Alive.
For so long I had been defined as sick. Frail. Dying. And here was my brother, staring at me across the table, telling me I looked alive.
My throat ached as I studied him, taking in the older face of my brother, though I could still see the boy. The boy who grew up pushed to the side because of me. I bit my lip and sighed.
“Thomas, I need to say something.”
He looked at me across the table.
“I… I feel like I stole so much from you growing up. Like my sickness just swallowed the entire family, you know? And you—you just seemed to disappear into the background. I knew it. Even when I was young, I knew. I saw you so many times just standing in the hospital doorway when you thought I was asleep, watching me, and I hated it because I knew what you were seeing. But you weren’t being seen at all. Because everything was about me—my meds, my pain, my treatment—and you were just there. I hate myself for it. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I stole your childhood from you. I’m sorry you felt like you had to leave.”
Thomas’s hands tightened around his mug ever so slightly, and he sighed, his green eyes burning into mine.
“Look, I was angry. I was just a stupid kid, and I felt like no one cared or had any space left for me. But I never hated you. Not once. I mean, I sure as shit resented the situation—resented Mom and Dad for not seeing me when I needed them most. But you? You were fighting for your life—for nearly all your life,Ellis. There was no competing with it. It just fucking sucked. Sometimes I wanted to scream at you.” He shook his head and ran a hand through his cropped hair. “Only because I wanted you back, and I felt so helpless. I couldn’t help you.”
I swallowed my tears, though my eyes burned. “I—I thought you hated me.”
Thomas grimaced and sighed. “I never hated you, Ellis. I—I mean, I definitely pulled back as we got older and I understood more and more. I thought the more I pulled away from you, the less it would hurt. If you died.”
My chest tightened at his words, and instead of seeing my adult brother across from me, I saw the boy hidden deep inside him.
“I spent so long just waiting,” he murmured, his face thoughtful.
“Waiting?” I echoed.
He nodded, swallowing. “Yeah. I mean, waiting for the call. Waiting for the moment the doctors said,‘She didn’t make it.’Waiting for Mom to wake me up in the middle of the night, or for Dad to pick me up from school and tell me you were gone. I lived with it every single day, and I hated myself, because sometimes I almost wished it would just happen already.”
He met my eyes across the table, regret in them, and I breathed shakily.
