Chapter 13 The Almost Kiss #2
The soft glow of the TV flickers across the walls, an old sitcom rerun playing quietly in the background and laugh tracks filling the silence.
There’s a half-empty pizza box on the coffee table and cushions scattered across the carpet.
The faint scent of pepperoni mingles with the sharp tang of cola.
I glance at Rafael, sprawled on the couch with his eyes closed, his breathing even. He’s been so good, keeping the atmosphere light during dinner, getting my brother to talk about video games, sports, and Formula 1, and somehow involving me in the conversation.
“Why did you say you weren’t together?” Ethan asks.
I glance back at him. He’s perched on the armchair, one socked foot tucked beneath him, a slice of pizza halfway to his mouth.
“Uh, we weren’t when you asked.” My gaze flicks back to Rafael’s sleeping form.
“But you are now?”
“No, I…” I hesitate. “It’s complicated, I guess.”
“Did you DTR yet?”
“What does that mean?”
“Wow, you really are a hundred years old.”
“Hey.”
“Define the relationship. Like whether you’re in a situationship or dating exclusively or—”
Dating exclusively? “Is there another type of dating?”
Ethan laughs, a sharp burst of sound that seems too loud for the quiet room. “So how’s it complicated? Either you’re boyfriend and girlfriend or you’re not.”
I glance at Rafael again. His chest rises and falls steadily, his lashes unmoving. “I guess. But I’ve had… difficulties letting people in. Since Mom and Dad.”
Ethan chews slowly, his gaze fixed on the TV but clearly not watching. “Oh.”
“Did you?” When he just shrugs, I focus on the TV, too. “It’s just, after everything, it’s been really difficult to get attached.”
Ethan finally turns to look at me.
“But Rafael…” I glance at him again, sleeping on the couch.
“I don’t know how he does it—he has this way of sneaking past every wall I’ve built.
Like he sees them, acknowledges them, and then just goes around them.
He doesn’t push. Doesn’t demand. Doesn’t come in with bulldozers and demolish them.
But somehow, piece by piece, he’s tearing them down.
” I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head.
“It’s terrifying, honestly. And amazing. ”
Quiet joy lights up his expression. “Sounds like he’s good for you.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
There’s a beat of silence, then, “People kind of expect you to get over it after a while, don’t they?” he says tentatively. “Grief? You get a pass for a few weeks, or months, but then you have to move on. Even if you don’t know how to.”
I draw my knees to my chest, hugging them tightly. The familiar ache of loss spreads through me, settling like an old, unwelcome friend. “People like teachers? Friends?”
He gestures with his pizza slice. “Everyone.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t think we’ll ever get over it. I guess we’ve learned to live without them, but some part of us will always be mourning.”
His eyes drop to the floor, his head nodding almost imperceptibly.
We’ve never really talked about this, have we?
About Mom and Dad. For a while after their deaths, I didn’t speak about them at all.
But having this elephant in the room that everyone always tried to tiptoe around was almost worse.
At some point, I realized I hadn’t talked about them in so long it almost felt as if I was trying to write them out of my life.
“You know,” I say, my voice softer, “for the longest time, I couldn’t sleep with my phone on. I did at first, but I kept jumping at every notification. I was sure something had happened to you or Paige.”
Ethan rubs his face, his shoulders slumping. “I have troubles with… cars.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He glances at me briefly before looking away again. “I get anxious. My therapist gave me these exercises—exposure therapy, she calls it. But I still have trouble even sitting in a parked car.” He laughs, a hollow sound. “I can take the bus, though. It’s weird.”
“It’s not weird at all. I didn’t drive my car for almost two years after they died.” His eyebrows lift in surprise. “When I did, I only went up to twenty miles an hour. Got cursed out loads of times.”
He sits back, chewing on the inside of his cheek. After a moment, he asks, “Are you ever mad at them? Mom and Dad?”
The air freezes between us. I gape at him, unable to respond.
Grabbing another slice of pizza, he grumbles, “Forget about it.”
“No, I… I get it, Ethan. But they did nothing wrong.”
“I know that. I’m not stupid,” he snaps. “But if it wasn’t for their death, everything would be different.” His voice rises. “They ruined my life, Scarlett. They died, then you were gone, and I had to move with Grandma and Grandpa, change schools, change friends.”
Behind him, Rafael’s eyes flicker open.
“I’m not gone. I’m right here,” I say. Sherlock jumps off the couch and rushes up the stairs as he feels the rise of tension. “I know we’ve been apart for the last five years, but—”
“Oh, give me a fucking break!” He stands, his finger jabbing toward me like a deadly weapon. “You let them take me. Why didn’t you come? If I had to move, why didn’t you follow me? I was a kid, for fuck’s sake. I needed my sister.”
I open my mouth, but no words come out.
What can I say? I can’t tell him Grandma and Grandpa didn’t want me there. Throwing them under the bus won’t fix the relationship between Ethan and me, and he’s lost enough already.
“Now they’re shipping me off to Virginia. Because they want nothing to do with me, and you don’t want to deal with me. So quit acting like you give a fuck.” He swipes at his cheeks angrily. “You’re worse than them.”
Rafael stands and clears his throat, his hand gripping Ethan’s shoulder in a silent warning.
“V-Virginia?” I stammer, rising to my feet.
Without a word, my brother wrenches himself free, a fire burning in his gaze as he storms toward the door.
“What are you talking about?” My vision blurs with tears. “Virginia? Wait, Ethan—”
Rafael’s hand finds my arm, holding me back as my brother yanks the door open and walks out.
I want to follow him, to tell him how much I care about him. That I’ve missed him, and I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for him, and I’ll do anything to make amends, but the door has slammed shut, and Ethan is gone.
The silence that follows is deafening.
I break free of Rafael’s hold and run outside, but Ethan’s already biking away.
I blink rapidly, tears streaking my face as my breath comes in ragged gasps. I walk back in and sink down onto the couch, cradling my head in my hands.
Rafael sits beside me, his hand resting on my back.
“No!” I shout, pulling away. “Why did you stop me? You had no right to do that. He feels abandoned, and the least I could do was follow him. But you held me back! Why did you hold me back?”
“Scarlett, breathe—”
“Why did you do that?” I insist, my voice turning even more hysterical.
He watches me, lips parted. “Because I didn’t like how angry he was. It… it scared me.”
I sniffle, my anger deflating as I watch something flash through his eyes. Scared? Why was he scared?
“I’m sorry,” he says.
I grab a tissue, weakly shaking my head. He was just trying to protect me, as misplaced as his worry was. “It’s okay.”
“In that case, I’m not actually sorry.”
I roll my eyes. I’m not at the stage of joking about this yet. “What… what was he talking about? Virginia? I don’t understand.”
A deep sigh. “I don’t know, but we’ll find out.”
“I need to— I have to…” My voice cracks, and I look around helplessly.
His hand rests on my knee and squeezes. “Water?”
“No.” I know Ethan’s not the same eleven-year-old who was taken away from me, but the thought of him riding his bike alone, at night, when he’s that upset… I need to do something.
“Want to drive around and see if we find him?” Rafael asks.
“Would you really?” I ask, sniffling.
“You call him, I drive,” he says with an encouraging smile. “Let’s go.”