Page 11

It’s not my place to tell him.

Instead, I text.

Me: Faye is safe. Give her some time. I’ll get her to call you.

Holt replies instantly.

Holt: What is that supposed to mean?

I don’t even read the message completely before his name lights my screen with an incoming call.

“Fuck,” I curse aloud. Then I answer. “Hey.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“Shouldn’t you be in practice?” I ask. “Mom said you’re in the thick of it now.”

“Tate, I’m not talking about hockey right now. What the fuck is going on with Faye?”

“Look—” I pause. His breathing comes through the line rough. “I don’t know what’s going on with Faye. I can’t get that out of her, okay. I just know she’s fine.”

“She’s obviously not fine.”

“Look, I gotta go.”

“Tate…” I pause, because my little brother has never sounded so desperate. So worried. “Please get her to call me. Tell her—tell her I love her. Please.”

I stab my thumb and finger into my brow, rubbing at the tension that builds there. I’m not sure I’ve ever hated myself more than I hate myself in this moment.

I’m a shit brother.

“I’ll get her to call you.”

“Don’t forget to tell her⁠—”

“I’ll tell her you love her, man,” I vow. I always tell her he loves her.

I’ve always told her he loves her.

I’ll never stop telling her he loves her.

“Thank you.”

I don’t respond before I disconnect, and I don’t look at myself in the mirror before I exit. I’m afraid that if I look, I’ll see the ugly monster that lurks under my flesh—the monster in love with my brother’s girl.

5

CONVINCE ME

AUGUST 2009 – 17 YEARS OLD

Irelease the straw with a moan. “You were right, this is the best milkshake I’ve ever had.”

Tate points into his half-finished strawberry milkshake. “This is the best milkshake.”

“Sorry, but no.”

He narrows his eyes on me as he teases, “You vanilla people don’t know what you’re missing.”