Page 62 of Every Thought Taken

Before I darted from the house yesterday, Dad caught me. Asked me, practically begged, that I be home to say farewell to Ales when she leaves for college in the morning. Much as I want to dodge Helena, I can’t not say goodbye to my sister, the one person who’s never actually let me down. Sure, she is busy. But she’d stop everything if I reached out.

Without Ales at home, nothing and no one will stop Mom from unloading her frustrations. And I don’t think I’ll be able to stand strong against her long. Not alone.

“Anderson,” Dad bellows across the house. “Get out here and help see your sister off.”

Begrudgingly, I push off my bed and shuffle out of the room. Ales’s bossy words load the air as she directs Dad to grab the last box. Another thing I will miss, her need to direct the room.

I follow everyone outside, where Dad crams the box in the back of Ales’s car, her SUV packed to the brim.

“Don’t think you girls can fit anything else,” Dad huffs out as he whips his arm out and slams the hatch. He winces as the box shifts and presses the rear window.

Ales jogs over to him, wraps her arms around his middle, and hugs him tight enough to crack a rib. “Thanks, Daddy. I love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

I take a step forward, ready to go to Ales and wish her luck at college, when a voice locks me in place.

“You almost forgot your—”

I peer over my shoulder and see Helena with a hair curler in her hand, her mouth stuck open and words lost. Her brows twitch for a split second before she swallows and walks past me to my sister.

“You almost forgot your curling wand.” She opens the passenger door and tosses it into the back seat.

Her eyes find mine, but I look away and start for Ales on the driver’s side. I wrap her in my arms and squeeze her with undeniable strength.

“I’ll miss you,” I say only loud enough for her to hear, the backs of my eyes burning. “A lot.”

She tightens her hold around my middle, a sniffle hitting my ear. “I’ll miss you too, Baby A.” Releasing the hug, she inches back and holds my gaze. “Call or text. I don’t care what time it is. If you need me, I’m here.”

I swallow down her words. Swallow down that my biggest ally is leaving. “I’ll be fine.” My vision blurs as the lie rolls easily off my tongue. “Promise.”

Her eyes dart to the side then back to me as she whispers, “It’s okay to not be okay.” She squeezes my biceps in her hands. “Just because I’m notheredoesn’t mean I’m not here for you.”

I nod before pulling her into another fierce hug. “Love you, Ales.”

“Love you too, Baby A.”

Mom and Dad give Ales another round of hugs as I back away, moving to the front porch. I lean against one of the posts and watch as goodbyes are exchanged. I peek over at Helena as she wrings her fingers.

I heard Mr. and Mrs. Williams here hours ago, but I assumed Helena left with them. That she’d be with her own family until it was time to leave. Being out of the loop, I didn’t know Helena was leaving from our house with Ales. I also didn’t know why her parents were gone now.

As if she hears me thinking about her, she takes a few tentative steps in my direction. With each step forward, I erect the walls around my heart. Shut down the part of my heart dedicated to her.

“Hey,” she says as she reaches the bottom of the steps.

“Hey,” I mutter.

She takes a deep breath. “Ander, I…” Her eyes drop to the ground, her expression scrunched in confusion. “I miss you,” she says, a breath above a whisper before lifting her gaze to mine.

I want to return the words. Want to tell her how much I’ve missed her, how shitty life has been without her, how I still love her.

But I won’t. I can’t.

For her, I will gladly fall apart, be less of a person, be nothing, so she has all the happiness life has to offer. For her, I will be nothing more than her best friend’s little brother.

I nod, my only show of agreement. “Have a great time at college.” The generic words sound all wrong. “Do amazing things.”

Green eyes hold my blues, tears rimming her lids. I see everything left unsaid in the breaths that pass between us. I see every ounce of sadness she won’t admit, a way to shield her own heart.

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