Page 91 of My Brother's Forbidden Friend

I knock on his door, thankful he called reinforcements.

Allie opens the door. “Hey, Cam.”

Hank sits on the couch, playing peekaboo with Axel between his legs. “Cam,” he says with a nod.

Fisher runs down the stairs, freshly showered and putting on a shirt. “Hey, man.”

He fist-bumps me but then encases me in a hug. I’ve seen Fisher already since the accident, but everyone keeps hugging me as though I was near death. But I know where it’s coming from. I’ve lived in this town my whole life, and we’ve all seen tragic nights like that one. That’s why I don’t blame Chevelle. The open water is a wicked mistress, and she does what she wants when she wants.

“Have a seat. Axel and Laurie are going to enjoy their new basement.” Allie acts excited, and the two little ones run over to the basement door.

“Thanks, babe.” Fisher sits on the couch, and Allie nods at him.

I take a seat next to Fisher and don’t say anything at first, trying to figure out where to start, but Hank saves me the trouble.

“So…” he says. “She’s drowning in guilt?”

I nod. “I’ve tried everything. Nothing works. Every day I feel her pulling farther away. I tried to get her out on my dad’s boat just for a ride on the water, and she said no.”

Hank frowns. “We all know she’s never been ice-skating or even come close to a frozen pond since Laurie’s accident.” He blows out a breath. “I’d hate for her to lose her livelihood because of a near miss. When I was sick last year, at first she refused to even talk to me about it, and then when she did, she acted like she was gonna be my savior.”

We sit quietly for a second, each of us in our thoughts.

“I could give her more time, but I don’t think that’s the answer,” I confess.

“What about therapy?” Fisher says, picking up from beside the couch that old safe that he had a couple weeks ago and examining it again as though it will just spring open in his hands.

“Still can’t get that thing open?” I ask.

Fisher shakes his head.

Hank looks at it and stills. “Where did you find that?”

Fisher gives me a mischievous grin. Just like he used to when Hank caught us doing something we shouldn’t and got us in trouble. “The basement.”

“Let me see it.” Hank holds out his hands and takes it, giving it a good once-over. “This was your mother’s.”

“Yeah?” Fisher’s eyebrows rise into his hairline.

“Where in the basement?”

“It was behind a cinder block, way back in the crawl space.”

Hank huffs and tries the lock.

“So you recognize it?” Fisher asks.

He nods. “Your mother put it together. There are things inside… I’m not sure what. She wouldn’t tell me.” He looks at it longingly. “I completely forgot about this.”

“What was it for?” Fisher asks.

“Two years before she died, she felt a lump in her breast.” He continues to study the safe as if he’s remembering little by little. “Your mom convinced herself she had cancer and asked me to get her one of these small safes. She didn’t want any of you kids to be able to get into it. I obliged because I loved her, but I kept saying we should just wait until she’d gone in for the ultrasound. Whatever is in here”—he jiggles it—“she put in there because she thought she was dying.”

“Why would she do that and not give you the key?” Fisher asks.

“I think she did. Maybe. I don’t know. Why didn’t she destroy it after we found out it was just a fatty deposit? Why keep it?”

Answers they’ll never get since Mrs. Greene died.

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