Chapter Twenty
Atlas
One Year Ago
"Hey, Silas, give me a call."
I have to clamp down the frustration in my voice. This is the fourth voicemail I've left for him today. I'm trying to be understanding—the man just lost his wife, and had to put her in the ground only days ago.
I would be...
Fuck, I don't even want to think about that now. It was bad enough to witness my brother at the funeral. I can't think about Wendy being in that box.
"The girls can stay over again, they're more than welcome. We're about to eat dinner, so... just... give me a call, man. I need to know you're okay."
Sighing, I tap the end button and squeeze my phone, resisting the urge to throw it at the wall.
Irritation threatens to consume me—the lack of sleep, the addition of two children in our house, trying to support my brother, while my parents support Carrie's parents, who are completely wrecked, obviously.
"Any luck?"
And just like that, the tension in my shoulders bleeds away just from the sound of her voice behind me. I turn, feeling peace wash over me at the sight of her.
My Wendy, still so beautiful, even with the dark circles under her eyes, the lines of exhaustion in her face.
Fuck, I don't think any of us would be able to function without her. She took in Molly and Jem without a second thought, adding two more children—grieving children—into our circus without batting an eye.
The girls have always been close to us; whenever they visit, they run right into our arms, then dash away to play with their cousins. But they especially love their Aunt Wendy.
Molly's been especially clingy with Wendy, especially since she's the one who found her mother...
"Come here, baby..." I gesture for her to come toward me. Wendy tilts her head in question, but still walks into my arms. "I just want to hold you."
She smiles and melts right into my arms. Burying my face into her hair, I inhale deeply, obsessively. Her warm vanilla scent is the only thing anchoring me.
She wraps her arms tightly around my waist, and I place my hand on the back of her head, the other full around her back, locking her into place.
I press kisses to her hair and just rock her side to side, my eyes squeezed shut against the tears that threaten to fall.
I need to go check on my brother. I need to make sure that he's okay, but for a couple of seconds, I just need to exist in heaven, my wife in my arms, my children giggling in the next room while they watch a silly movie with their cousins.
When I hear the girl's soft laughter, it warms my heart even more.
"I'm going to go check on him. Mom said he was sleeping when they left, I'm sure he still is, but..."
"Go. We'll order in tonight. The kids were hinting at Chinese," she pulls back to grin at me, and I reach my hands up, thumb dusting over the freckles on her cheeks.
So damn beautiful, and mine.
But one day, she won't be...
She'll be gone...
Just like Carrie...
My jaw tightens at those thoughts, more frequent ever since we got the call from my parents that morning telling us that Carrie died.
Cupping her face, I press my lips to hers, lingering and just... feeling her against me. "I love you."
"I love you, Atlas," she grins. "Always have."
"Always will," I respond, before we walk to the foyer to grab my keys.
When I peek into the living room, I see Molly and Jem on the big couch in front of the TV.
Liam dragged his bean bag chairs down from his room for him and his brother, allowing the girls to stretch out on our couches.
My boys, I think with pride. They don't look up from the screen, completely enraptured in their movie.
I press another kiss to my wife's smiling lips.
"I'll be back in a bit."
◆◆◆
The bad feeling in my gut only gets worse when I get to my parents' house, and it's completely dark.
My parents responded to my text on the way over, saying that Silas was sleeping when they left earlier this afternoon.
They're dropping off Silas' and the girls' things at Carrie's parents' house. That's where the girls will be staying, while they figure out their next steps. My parents are staying at Carrie's parents' house tonight before they drive back tomorrow morning.
The girls didn't want to go back to living in the house their mother died in. Molly hyperventilated when they discussed it and Silas had to leave the room.
Wendy and my mom had to talk her through her panic, while my dad and I got the boys and Jem out of there to distract them.
I walk into the house, and the energy already feels off.
Wrong.
"Si?" I call out into the quiet house, but get no response.
Turning on the lights as I go, I walk upstairs to his bedroom. Taking a deep breath, I push open the door.
His bedroom is dark, and when my eyes adjust, my mind doesn't comprehend what I'm seeing at first.
"Silas... what are you doing?"
My brother sits on his bed, an open bottle of whiskey on the table next to him. He's been at it for a while, the bottle near empty.
My brother has been almost catatonic since he came home after Carrie died. He's always been the more taciturn of us, barely showing any emotion unless he's around Carrie and his girls, but this is something I've never seen.
He's crying. Tears trail down his cheeks to the two-week-old scruff he hasn't shaved. His hair is in disarray, the short dark strands sticking up every which way. I can smell the alcohol on him from here.
And in his hand is one of my dad's pistols, taken from his gun safe.
"I can't do this anymore, Atlas," Silas says, not looking at me. His voice is slurred. "I can't do it without her."
I don't know what to do.
Fear is a tight coil in my gut as my mind goes blank.
I expected to find my brother depressed and grieving, not suicidal.
"Silas, give me the gun."
"No," Silas slurs, taking the safety off, the click sending my blood cold.
He raises it to his temple.
"Si..." I gasp out desperately, holding out my hands but not willing to move in case I spook him. "No, no, no—put it down. Put it down. What about—what about the girls? You have to take care of the girls."
"I can't do it without Carrie. She... she handled everything. She did everything. She was everything," he cries, eyes squeezed shut and snarling. "It all means nothing without her. My life means nothing without her!"
"What about Molly and Jem, huh? What about them? They need you—"
"They need their Mama, and she's fucking dead!"
He screams, his voice cracking on the last word. His finger flexes almost imperceptibly, and my heart skips a beat. "I need to go be with her. Please, you and Wendy, take care of them... I have to go be with their Mama."
I move. In any other situation, he'd dodge and shoot before I reacted. But he's shitfaced, so he's slow and sloppy.
I grab his arm and twist it, wrestling it away from his head. It clatters to the bedroom floor, skittering across the floor and mercifully doesn't go off.
My brother’s not as big as me, but he’s trained and he’s strong, but the combination of the liquor and grief lets me subdue him. He tries to break free, weakly hitting me, kicking, trying to twist himself out of my hold.
We roll around on the floor until he finally just... breaks.
"Just let me fucking die," Silas begs, anger and fire gone. He's all agony now. "Please, just let me die, let me die..."
"Si, it's okay, it's okay..." I repeat over and over, holding him tightly and pleading with him to just stop.
Meanwhile, all I can think of is putting myself in his shoes, and the horrifying realization that if I had put Wendy in the ground days ago, then Silas would be the one holding me.
I think of Wendy, of my sweet, wonderful wife, dead, and hot tears fall from my eyes as I hold my brother through his grief.
I don't know how long we stay like that, but Silas eventually passes out. I carry him to his bed, lay him down, and turn him on his side so he doesn't choke.
I stay, back propped up against the bed, next to a trash bin I grab in case Silas pukes.
I only leave for five minutes to place the gun back in my dad's safe, and then I change the combination to the lock.
My dad barely hunts anymore; he probably won't even notice the change for a while. That's the only reason Silas still knew the combo: it’s Mom's birthday.
The adrenaline is making its way out of my body, but fear still runs through my veins as I sit next to my snoring brother.
I can recognize that I'm in shock, that the full extent of the fucking mess that just happened hasn't hit me yet.
And I know it will.
Wendy texted me an hour ago.
Everything okay?
With shaky hands, I respond.
Yeah, baby.
Silas is drunk.
Gonna stay with him a bit.
Okay, the kids are asleep.
Dinner is in the fridge for you.
I revel in the wonderfully normal text message, and the next one that comes through makes me choke back a sob.
You're a wonderful brother.
I love you so much.
I smile, despite myself, despite it all.
My wife, I think with immense pride and love, though there's a new tinge to the love I have for her.
It feels cold and desperate.
I love you, baby.
It's nearing two in the morning when Silas wakes up, groaning no doubt from how miserable he's feeling.
I guide his head to the trash so he can empty his guts, and then lay him back on the bed. In the bathroom, I grab him a cold compress, a glass of water and some Tylenol, which he silently takes from me.
The tension is thick, building as he struggles to say what he wants but doesn't know how. I don't even know how to unpack what the hell just happened. I think it might be better just to pretend it didn't.
Maybe not better, but I need to.
So I shove it down. Deep down.
And I just focus on the now.
"I'm sorry, Atlas," Silas whispers after a couple of minutes. He's still lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "I'm so sorry—"
"It's alright, man," I cut him off, patting his arm. "It's okay."
"It's not..." he shakes his head, tears sliding out of the corners of his eyes to the pillow. "I... I need... help."
"We'll get you help," I promise, nodding and feeling relieved for him. I'm confident he won't do it again, at least not now. "We're here for you. For the girls. Always."
He nods. I stay another hour with him, before the itch of needing to go home, to my wife, to my sons, becomes too much to ignore.
I feel shaky and restless. I need to make sure my sons are okay. I need to hold my wife. I need to be home. Now.
Silas seems to be sleeping peacefully, so I make sure that he's turned on his side before I stand from the floor.
Silas' eyes pop open, and I ask him, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he nods, before he grimaces, the movement disturbing his hangover. I gesture to the side table, a fresh bottle of water for him, and he nods, grabbing it and taking slow sips.
Silas peers at me, matching dark brown eyes boring into mine. I give him an easy smile, while inwardly feeling like a caged animal, slamming against my cage.
"I'm sorry, Atlas," he whispers, ashamed. "I'm so fucking sorry, man. I didn't... I shouldn't have..."
"Stop, it's okay," I lie, because it's not, but I can't hear my brother apologize any more for struggling.
I can't be reminded that I just had to wrestle a gun away from my brother's head because he wanted to kill himself.
He nods after a moment's hesitation. "Can you... can you guys bring the girls today? I... need to see them. I need them close."
"Of course, we'll bring them over later."
"Tell Wendy thank you," Silas whispers.
"Thank you, Atlas," he says, and I know he doesn't just mean thank you for watching his kids.
He means thank you for stopping me from...
I nod. "Of course. I love you, Silas."
"I love you too."
◆◆◆
The roads are completely clear at this time of night, the ride home is quick and silent. I can't even stand to have the radio on.
I pull into the garage, next to Wendy's SUV, and give myself a minute to make sure I've pulled myself together.
The house is completely quiet when I walk in, Wendy left the lamps in the foyer and living room dimmed for me.
I walk upstairs, keeping my footsteps light, and I peek into the rooms.
The girls are in our guest room, sleeping peacefully on the bed.
I walk to Liam's room and crack the door open, seeing him sprawled facedown across his bed, like a starfish, Wendy always says.
His back rises and falls, and the sight brings me relief, the same relief I get when I walk into Noah's room, my baby boy, Wendy's mini, snoring his little head off.
Finally, I walk into my bedroom and feel myself exhale.
Wendy's form is under the covers, sleeping, and I go to her, powerless not to. I crouch next to her side of the bed, her beautiful face completely relaxed in sleep.
My hand moves without my mind's permission first, and I press my fingers to her neck lightly, feeling her pulse, strong and steady.
Her eyes open slowly, and I move my hand to her cheek, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. She smiles when she sees me, and the sight makes me want to weep after the night I just had.
"Is Silas okay?" She asks, her voice scratchy.
"Yeah, baby," I force a smile. "Sleeping off his hangover now. He asked to bring the girls back today."
"Hmmkay..." she hums sleepily, pressing a kiss to my hand on her cheek. My heart thumps in my chest. "Come to bed."
Stripping off my clothes, I climb into bed behind her and press myself right against her back, wrapping both arms around her.
She wiggles back even more, and I squeeze her tight, I know almost too tight but I can't help it. I press a long kiss to the back of her neck, squeezing my eyes shut at the influx of tears that sprout from her scent.
"...I missed you," she says, half-asleep.
"I missed you, too, baby."
I won't survive when you're gone...