Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Jasper, Age Sixteen
As soon as I cross over from Smith to Jennings land, unease fills my gut. I shouldn’t be here. It’s risky and foolish. Yet, here I am anyway, willingly trespassing at nearly ten o’clock at night.
I’ve spent three days staring at my bedroom ceiling, replaying every second and hearing the whispers around town spoken in hushed voices downstairs.
It’s the same conversation every time. The accident.
Lyle. The funeral. Nobody’s seen Chesney.
Nobody’s heard from him either. He hasn’t been at school—understandably so—or the creek, and every time I text or call him, I’m met with silence.
I can’t take it anymore. I’ve cried more times in the last seventy-two hours than I have in my entire life.
Every time I’ve tried to ask Dad if he’s heard anything new, he scoffs, like my concern for a family going through great loss is annoying, and tells me the same thing: Leave that family alone.
Regardless of how he feels about the Jennings family, a ten-year-old kid lost his life.
How could I possibly leave that alone? How can he?
The night is cool and still. It almost feels like the wind, the bugs, the cattle—nature—are taking a moment of silence to grieve the loss felt around town.
My boots know exactly where to go. I’ve walked this path dozens of times.
They carry me across the creek, through the trees, and around the old fence line.
I may not have ever been inside Chesney’s house, but I know this land like the back of my hand.
Every step carries a memory. Chesney laughing because I fell in the creek.
The two of us racing horses through the pasture. Our first kiss beneath the stars.
And now, all of it feels impossibly far away.
The Jennings house is shrouded in darkness except for one light upstairs.
His room. Relief floods my system because that means he’s awake.
It feels like it takes an eternity to finally get there.
This property is freaking huge. My heart sits uncomfortably in my throat.
This is probably riskier than simply being on their land.
Yeah, it’s late, but the front door is right there, and anybody could walk outside and see me.
Not to mention, there’s a possibility someone’s window might be open and they could hear me.
But it’s too late to leave now.
I need to see Chesney. Need to hug him and comfort him and make sure he knows I’m here for him. I’ve been a wreck since hearing about the accident; I can’t even begin to imagine how much pain he’s in.
Standing under his window, I bend down and pick up a couple of pebbles. The first one taps lightly against his window. I wait a minute, but there’s nothing. The second one lands with a louder click. A few seconds pass, and I think he must not be in his room like I thought.
But then the curtain moves, and my heart nearly leaps out of my chest. The window slides open, and a second later, Chesney appears. He stares down at me, like he’s not sure if he’s really seeing me, and for one brief moment, I think he might actually smile.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, his face falls. “What are you doing here?” His voice is flat. Empty. But it makes sense, given what he’s going through. My heart aches for him.
“I needed to see you,” I say, whispering as loud as I can.
It’s impossible to miss the twitch in his jaw, even from down here. “You shouldn’t have come.”
“I know.” I swallow hard. “But I couldn’t—”
Chesney doesn’t give me a chance to finish. “You need to leave.”
My throat tightens, and it’s like I can do nothing but stare at him for a minute. He’s never spoken to me like this.
“Chesney…”
He disappears from the window without another word, and a minute later, the front door opens quietly.
Walking toward me across the yard, I barely recognize him.
His hands are shoved into the pocket of his old Zeppelin hoodie.
His shoulders are slumped forward. And his eyes…
Jesus. They’re nearly swollen shut, and dark circles bleed through the skin beneath them, like he hasn’t slept in days.
Like grief has gutted any life left inside him.
When Chesney stops a few feet away, neither of us speaks.
I don’t even know where to begin, but I start with, “Chesney, I’m so sorry.” It’s all I’ve wanted to say for three days.
His jaw tightens. “Don’t.”
“I mean it. I can’t imag—”
“I said don’t,” he grits out.
The sharpness in his voice makes me flinch, but I step closer anyway. “I’ve been worried about you.”
Chesney laughs. But not his usual laugh. This one… It’s the ugliest sound I’ve ever heard. “Worried,” he echoes, the word dripping with bitterness.
“Of course I was worried. I’ve been trying to call. And I get why you haven’t picked up, but I’ve—”
He cuts me off again, his face twisted into a sneer. “You don’t get to worry.”
My heart drops, and suddenly, I can’t feel my legs. “What?”
When Chesney’s eyes finally meet mine, they’re red-rimmed and bloodshot. They’re completely void of any emotion. At least not one I’m used to seeing. “I said you don’t get to worry.”
I take another careful step, this time reaching for his arm. He rips it away before I get the chance. Pressure builds behind my eyes and my throat aches. I clench my jaw, doing everything I can not to cry. This isn’t about me. He’s hurting. If anybody gets to cry, it’s Chesney.
“I just…” Pausing for a second, I take a deep breath, wanting my voice to come out strong. “I want to be here for you.”
“Why?”
“So you’re not alone.”
“But I am alone.” The certainty in those four words steals my breath.
“Chesney—”
“Jasper, my brother is dead.”
The sentence sits between us, the pain in his voice raw and unbearable.
“I know. That’s why I’m here.”
“No.” His voice cracks. “You don’t…” A tear slides down his cheek, but he doesn’t wipe it away. “You have no idea.”
Everything I rehearsed on the walk over here disappears. Nothing feels big enough. Nothing feels right. “I wish I could fix it.” I regret it the second it leaves my mouth. What a stupid thing to say.
“Yeah, well, you can’t.”
“I know that,” I reply meekly.
“I said you can’t,” he repeats, nearly shouting it this time. The words echo across the quiet yard.
My vision blurs, and for a second, I can’t breathe or move or do anything other than stand in front of him helplessly. “I know.”
I’m met with silence. Tense, heartbreaking silence.
But then Chesney laughs humorlessly once more. “You know what I keep thinking?” His voice drops so low I nearly miss it. “If I’d just stayed home…”
My stomach twists. “Chesney.”
“I would’ve heard him.”
“No.”
“I would’ve been there. He never would’ve been trampled.”
“No! Stop.”
The pain in his voice guts me. “If I’d just stayed home, I could’ve—”
“You don’t know that,” I say, louder than I intended. The tears I’ve been trying to hold back spill over, cascading down my face as Chesney angrily wipes his cheek with the sleeve of his hoodie.
“I do know that,” he growls.
“No.” I take another step, closing the distance between us. This time, he doesn’t react. “You don’t.”
Chesney’s breath is uneven and shallow, like he can’t seem to get enough air. “I left.” His voice breaks completely. “I left him.”
“You were gone for an hour,” I say softly, wanting to calm him down.
“I shouldn’t have gone at all,” he booms. “I left and he died, Jasper. Lyle fucking died.”
His legs give out and he collapses to his knees.
Hanging his head in his hands, Chesney sobs.
His shoulders shake, and he completely folds in on himself.
There’s nothing I can say to make it right, and there’s nothing I can do that will bring Lyle back.
I kneel in the grass in front of him, cautiously placing my arm on his shoulder.
Tears stream hot down my face as he falls apart.
And I fall apart with him. For the agony he’s feeling.
For the life taken from this earth way too soon.
For the devastating realization that Chesney will never get to watch his brother grow up.
None of this feels real.
None of it is fair.
“Chesney, you couldn’t have known,” I say after a few minutes.
“But I did.” He lifts his head, finally looking directly at me. The guilt in his eyes is almost unbearable. “I chose you.” Another sob escapes him as he shoves a finger into my chest. “I chose you over being home. And n-now Lyle’s gone. He’s gone forever because I. Chose. You.”
The realization of what he’s saying physically hurts. I can’t breathe. “No.” Reaching for him instinctively, I say, “No. You don’t get to carry that.”
Chesney’s expression changes from grief to anger in the blink of an eye. “I don’t?” He shoves my hand away and gets to his feet, taking a step back. Away from me.
My legs nearly give out when I stand, but this time, I don’t move closer. Shaking my head desperately, I say, “It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was, though.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“It was!” The shout tears through the night. “If I hadn’t come to meet you—”
“Stop,” I whisper, my chin quivering.
“He’d still be alive. He’d still be alive.”
“Chesney!” His name rips from my throat, but he doesn’t hear it. Or maybe he does. Maybe he just doesn’t care.
His breathing comes in ragged bursts now. “I keep replaying it,” he says, pressing the heel of his hand into his eye. “Over and over and over and fucking over again.”
I reach for him again. I can’t stand watching him unravel.
But he shoves me away. “No.”
Confusion twists inside me. “What?”
“I can’t,” he grits out.
His eyes find mine again. There’s so much pain in them I almost look away, but I force myself to stay.
“I’m here for you.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
“I want—”
“I don’t care what you want, Jasper!” The words explode from him, making me physically take a step back without realizing it. ‘If I’d never gone to see you”—Chesney’s voice drops—“my brother would be alive.”
I shake my head, unable to say anything as tears slide down my already wet face.
“You asked me to stay,” he goes on. I freeze. “You kissed me.” Every word lands like another blow. “And I stayed.” His shoulders tremble. “I should’ve gone home.”
“I…” I don’t know what to say because Chesney’s right. I didn’t want him to go. I kissed him. Held on to him. I remember it all. “I never would’ve—”
“I know.” His expression is hollow. “You didn’t mean for it to happen. But it did. It did happen, Jasper.” He pauses, his breathing hard. His hands hang by his sides, curled into tight fists, and his nostrils flare with each heavy exhale. “I hate you.”
It’s barely above a whisper, but it hurts more than when he shouted.
“I hate that I ever met you.”
My heart stops as he shoves the knife through my chest even deeper.
“I hate that I snuck around with you. I hate every kiss you gave me. I hate every lie I told because of you. I wish…” Chesney’s voice cracks again, and he shakes his head. “I wish none of it had ever happened.”
My lungs seize. I gasp for air, desperately needing to take a breath. It doesn’t help. The world goes eerily quiet; even the crickets stop singing. I know he doesn’t mean it. He’s hurting. He’s angry. He doesn’t mean what he said.
Or maybe he does. Grief makes people do impossible things. Say impossible things.
It feels like my chest has been split open.
I step toward Chesney one last time, slowly, carefully. “I don’t believe you.”
Fresh tears spill down his face. “I don’t care.” His voice is empty now. “I never want to see you again.”
It’s another punch to the gut.
The sentence echoes in my head, over and over. Because, surely, I heard him wrong. “Chesney…”
“Leave.” He won’t even look at me anymore.
“I can’t just—”
“I said, leave! What part of that don’t you fucking understand? I don’t want you here, Jasper. You look pathetic still standing here. I don’t want you. I never want to see your fucking face again. Do you hear me?”
A light flicks on inside the house, and someone moves behind a curtain.
Chesney doesn’t notice. Or maybe he doesn’t care.
“Please.” His voice is smaller now. Broken. “Just go.”
Foolishly, I stand here for another moment, hoping he’ll take it back. Hoping he’ll run toward me instead of away. But he doesn’t. He turns around and walks back toward the house without looking back. The front door closes softly behind him… And then he’s gone.
Chesney’s gone.
It doesn’t feel real.
Eventually, I head home, back to a life that suddenly feels unrecognizable. As I cross the creek by myself, one thought follows me all the way back to my family’s property.
Chesney didn’t just lose his little brother this week.
I lost my best friend too.