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“I haven’t.”

He pulled out the single item in the rubbish bin. “You’ve thrown away one T-shirt with a hole under the arm.” He nodded to the empty bag on the floor. “So far we don’t need to argue about which charity to donate to.”

“Well that’s good then. No arguing.”

“What are you going to do with the things you’re keeping?” He asked softly.

“I don’t know. Wear them. Hold them.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Know that part of him is still here, in his wardrobe.”

“And you think he’d be happier knowing his favorite jumper was sitting on a shelf in his wardrobe, waiting to be eaten by moths, instead of being enjoyed by someone who’d bought it from a thrift store, the donation going towards doing some good?”

“Logic.” She spat out the word. “I don’t care about logic.” She hugged the shirt to her. “He wore this shirt when he was happy, when he was vital and strong and laughing about all the girls he was going to score with it.”

Luke exhaled heavily. “But do you need the shirt to remember that moment?” He tugged it from her hands, but as she was about to protest, he slipped it into the keep bag.

On one level she knew Luke was right but by God, it didn’t make this any easier.

“How about you limit yourself to keeping clothes you know you’ll wear?”

She couldn’t argue with the reasonableness of his suggestion.

They worked in silence as she made her way through the rest of Colin’s clothes. And the charity bag began to fill up.

After finishing the wardrobe, she walked over to the ensuite. And faltered as she reached for his shaver sitting on the shelf by the sink. Luke gently pried it out of her hands. “Go and check his bedside drawers,” he said quietly. “I’ll do the bathroom.”

She could only nod woodenly. Seeing Colin’s shower gel, toothbrush, the towels he’d last used to dry himself. Fuck, this was Hard.

It was only when she pulled a dogeared book out of the bottom drawer by Colin’s bed that she managed her first smile. His senior yearbook.

Settling on the bed, she began to turn the pages.

* * *

Luke’s hand tightened into a fist and he thumped at the wall of the shower. It wasn’t anywhere like as hard as he wanted to hit something, but the pain helped push back his grief for long enough for him to get his shit together.

When he’d opened the medicine cabinet and been hit with all Colin’s pills . . . at least he’d spared Anna seeing that.

“Why the fuck did you have enough shower gel to fill a swimming pool, buddy?” He muttered as he picked up the vast array of bottles littering the shower tray and threw them into the rubbish bag.

He knew Anna thought he was callous, but he’d done this before, kept boxes and boxes of his mum’s stuff, as if storing her clutter in the garage could possibly fill even a tiny part of the aching chasm she’d left. He’d not looked at it again till he’d moved out. How much harder that had been to throw out her clothes when they’d been musty and unloved. Too moth eaten to go to charity.

And yeah, he could use the opened bottles of Colin’s aftershave, the gallons of shower gel. But then he’d smell like her dead brother.

Neither of them could cope with that.

When he’d cleared the ensuite of everything, he stepped back into the bedroom. Anna looked so small, sat cross legged on the vast king-sized bed, flicking through . . . “What have you got there?” Alarm raced through him. “If it’s his porn collection, I can only apologize.” Damn it, why hadn’t he thought to go through the bedside drawers first? “He bought them for me.” Another one you owe me, buddy.

She glanced up at him, and he didn’t know what he expected to see on her expression, but it wasn’t this soft amusement. “It’s good to see you still sticking up for him but don’t worry, Colin isn’t the one who’s about to get embarrassed. I found his yearbook.” Her mouth twitched. “I guess I should say your yearbook, too.”

“Ah.” Heat crept up his neck. He definitely didn’t want a trip down that memory lane.

“You have hair. Like, quite a lot of it.”

He remembered. Not a conscious effort on his part to grow it long. Between caring for his mum and keeping up with his schoolwork, his appearance had been the last thing on his mind. “The wild look was in.”

She spluttered with laughter. “You and Colin couldn’t look more different.”

“No.” Colin had been the blond, blue-eyed, clean-cut angel to his dark haired, green eyed, ragged looking rebel.