having an affair? Fuck.”
Charlotte, looking reluctant and regretful, squeezed his arm. “I don’t know for sure, Wesley. Mom was whispering and speaking as vaguely as possible whenever I was within a few feet of her. Aunt Syl seemed upset. I don’t know.”
“Forget it. This shouldn’t be your problem…”
“Maybe it shouldn’t be yours either…” she whispered.
Wes sighed. “So, how did school go this year for you?”
“Good. I got around to declaring my major. I had thought about rushing one of the sororities once, but I decided to focus on being as involved on campus as possible so I can run for one of the student government positions in the fall. Grades are good. Three point four average for the year.”
Wes hugged her close to him. “Proud of you, Char.”
“The girls on my hall were hoping to see you before—”
They were both startled when the front door suddenly swung open, and Abel stepped outside, maneuvering aggressively to sit between them. “You guys are loud as fuck, especially when my window is right there,” he said, pointing. “Where’d y’all go tonight? Why do you smell like a night of regret, Char?”
“You’re an asshole. I’m going to bed,” she announced before she hopped up and ruffled both their heads as she slipped into the house.
“I hate that she’s old enough for us not to be able to boss around anymore. I just hope some dude wasn’t banging her on a wall or something,” Abel whispered after she shut the door.
Wes cleared his throat to mask his laughter. “Yeah…”
“Hey, baby bro, I got distracted with getting ready for mom and dad’s arrival, but how ya been? I’ve been meaning to ask. I know in a few weeks—”
“It’s the fifth anniversary of Erin’s death,” Wes said, sighing. “I’m fine. Truth is, Abel, she’s no more or less dead than she’s ever been.” He saw the quick snap of Abel’s gaze toward him in his periphery. Dead ex-girlfriends weren’t just gone on the anniversaries of their deaths; they were still not living the other three hundred and sixty-four days, too.
“Her mom says she’s been having trouble reaching you, so she called me.”
“I’ll give her a call.”
“They’re planning something…to honor her. It’s the same day as Ribsy’s bachelor party. Marcus called me, too. Wanted to know if I thought you’d answer the phone this year.”
“I hope you told him absolutely the fuck not. He has nothing to say that I want to hear, Abel. He was fucking my girl behind my back. To me, he’s as dead as she is.”
But once he was back on the couch to catch a few hours of sleep, he couldn’t think of anything other than Erin, like he always did around this time, and with her, it was never just a superficial passing thought.
Five years ago, Wes had been a milder version of himself. Indulging in his party lifestyle but considering what it would be like to share it with someone else. Erin Cartwright. Beautiful. Bright. His. Waiting after the competitions and appearances. Posing on the red carpets. The late night phone calls. Video messages when he was away. She had made him believe in a possibility that love could be something far better than his parents. So he let himself give in, opened his soul up to the vulnerability that came with loving someone else, and allowing them to matter in a way that could break you, even if you hoped they never would. Wes was so drunk on her, so high on everything she was, the very knowledge of her existence left him with a perpetual burn in the bones.
And all of it had been a lie.
He hadn’t seen her in the weeks before she died because he was on a surfing trip, getting barreled all over South America for Lava. They were supposed to meet up that day he got back, and when she hadn’t shown up, he had driven to her house, passing a gruesome car accident really close by there. Shiny car parts were scattered like metal breadcrumbs across the pavement.
Charlotte, looking reluctant and regretful, squeezed his arm. “I don’t know for sure, Wesley. Mom was whispering and speaking as vaguely as possible whenever I was within a few feet of her. Aunt Syl seemed upset. I don’t know.”
“Forget it. This shouldn’t be your problem…”
“Maybe it shouldn’t be yours either…” she whispered.
Wes sighed. “So, how did school go this year for you?”
“Good. I got around to declaring my major. I had thought about rushing one of the sororities once, but I decided to focus on being as involved on campus as possible so I can run for one of the student government positions in the fall. Grades are good. Three point four average for the year.”
Wes hugged her close to him. “Proud of you, Char.”
“The girls on my hall were hoping to see you before—”
They were both startled when the front door suddenly swung open, and Abel stepped outside, maneuvering aggressively to sit between them. “You guys are loud as fuck, especially when my window is right there,” he said, pointing. “Where’d y’all go tonight? Why do you smell like a night of regret, Char?”
“You’re an asshole. I’m going to bed,” she announced before she hopped up and ruffled both their heads as she slipped into the house.
“I hate that she’s old enough for us not to be able to boss around anymore. I just hope some dude wasn’t banging her on a wall or something,” Abel whispered after she shut the door.
Wes cleared his throat to mask his laughter. “Yeah…”
“Hey, baby bro, I got distracted with getting ready for mom and dad’s arrival, but how ya been? I’ve been meaning to ask. I know in a few weeks—”
“It’s the fifth anniversary of Erin’s death,” Wes said, sighing. “I’m fine. Truth is, Abel, she’s no more or less dead than she’s ever been.” He saw the quick snap of Abel’s gaze toward him in his periphery. Dead ex-girlfriends weren’t just gone on the anniversaries of their deaths; they were still not living the other three hundred and sixty-four days, too.
“Her mom says she’s been having trouble reaching you, so she called me.”
“I’ll give her a call.”
“They’re planning something…to honor her. It’s the same day as Ribsy’s bachelor party. Marcus called me, too. Wanted to know if I thought you’d answer the phone this year.”
“I hope you told him absolutely the fuck not. He has nothing to say that I want to hear, Abel. He was fucking my girl behind my back. To me, he’s as dead as she is.”
But once he was back on the couch to catch a few hours of sleep, he couldn’t think of anything other than Erin, like he always did around this time, and with her, it was never just a superficial passing thought.
Five years ago, Wes had been a milder version of himself. Indulging in his party lifestyle but considering what it would be like to share it with someone else. Erin Cartwright. Beautiful. Bright. His. Waiting after the competitions and appearances. Posing on the red carpets. The late night phone calls. Video messages when he was away. She had made him believe in a possibility that love could be something far better than his parents. So he let himself give in, opened his soul up to the vulnerability that came with loving someone else, and allowing them to matter in a way that could break you, even if you hoped they never would. Wes was so drunk on her, so high on everything she was, the very knowledge of her existence left him with a perpetual burn in the bones.
And all of it had been a lie.
He hadn’t seen her in the weeks before she died because he was on a surfing trip, getting barreled all over South America for Lava. They were supposed to meet up that day he got back, and when she hadn’t shown up, he had driven to her house, passing a gruesome car accident really close by there. Shiny car parts were scattered like metal breadcrumbs across the pavement.
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