Chapter 40
Forty
The first rays of morning breaks through dark clouds and catch on scattered stones.
My body aches, but I keep my shoulders square, spine straight, and walk one foot in front of the other without faltering. Twigs snap underfoot, the only sign of life in a place so still.
It’s only when I arrive at her plot that my facade splinters. A tremble, so slight, running down from my fingertips.
Three things are responsible. The lavender bouquet against the cold granite, her favourite scent. The four butterflies engraved into the stone, one for each of us. The name gazing back from the headstone, carved too early.
Bryce Jameson.
Beloved daughter. Cherished friend. Twin, forever.
The first tear slips without permission. I blink hard, swallowing, but it only makes more spill. Slow at first. Then faster. Until the dam gives and I’m drowning in everything I’ve kept back too long.
When my knees buckle I don’t fight it. I fold, sinking into the earth as grass whispers up my arms and mud stains my knees. I don’t care. I let myself fall deeper, collapsing into the weight of loss.
Nothing but silence touches me for a moment that stretches lifetimes. I just stare and stare at the grave I’ve avoided for so long. Until a sob slips free, piercing the early morning air. It’s the perfect storm of defeat. The first domino tumbling down.
I collapse around it, my body curling tight as if I can hold the ache in. Fingers twist tight together, knotting in a pleading grip I don’t even understand.
“Why?” The question rasps out, torn raw. “Why did you do it to me, Bryce?”
A delicate breeze moves through the trees, kissing my cheeks as if to console me. It only makes the grief keener, the tears heavier.
My voice splinters into hysteria, sputtering out between hiccups.
“I’ll never forgive you for it. I swear.
” Her name blurs, her headstone dissolving into a slab of wet stone.
“You were supposed to be here. With me. I was never the bright one, you were. You had enough joy in you to survive this. I don’t, Bryce.
” A vice constricts my airways, but I push the truth out anyway.
“I don’t. I can’t make it out of this alone.
You knew better than to get behind that wheel. Why didn’t you just call me? Why?”
That thought festers, the cruelest of all. I would’ve picked up. I would’ve answered. In another life, you dial, I save you, and you’re still here.
“Contrary to what you thought, Bryce, you weren’t invincible.” My laugh is jagged. “All the hikes. The cliff-jumps. The skydives you loved and I couldn’t stomach. You were fearless. You were everything.” I bow until soil presses cold against my skin. “And now you’re here.”
My insides rip apart as I remember her. Adrenaline junkie. Thrill-chaser. Always living life at full tilt. And me? The quiet one. Too afraid to leap, too afraid to live. Never fell in love. Never made my own friends.
The pitch of my sob is different as it spills into the grass; anger shifting to guilt.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe into the dirt, praying it carries. Praying she forgives me, because her heart was always bigger than mine. “I’m sorry for hiding you. For letting your memory fade. For staying away. For falling in love—” my throat locks “—and not telling him about my better half.”
I release a painful sound. “I fell in love, Bryce. Can you believe it? Me.”
Each teardrop feels like glass down my cheeks. This, living through milestones without her, is the cruelest part of it all. She should be here. By my side. Teasing me. Testing him. She’d never think any guy was good enough for me, but…
“You’d love him, B.” This one’s quieter now. “He’s everything I’m not. Probably more than I deserve. But when he’s near, the emptiness doesn’t feel so vast, you know? Do you feel betrayed?”
I laugh again, and it doesn’t wound as much coming up this time. “You should. You should.” I rise, wiping at my face. “He’ll see me graduate. He’ll see me heal.” It hurts like hell to admit, but I smile through it.
Then I lower myself beside her headstone, hug my legs to my chest, and speak into the quiet.
I tell her everything. Learning to swim, and actually sticking with it. Getting stung by a sea-urchin. My first night in Grove. Seeing Arc One live.
“You always said Camden Lane was so hot. You were right. He’s even better in person.”
Then I confess the darker parts. The vices I’ve leaned on.
“I’m not going to do that anymore,” I promise. “Not for the wrong reasons.”
I tell her about Mom. How I’m scared. How I miss the way we used to be whole. How silence has become our new normal, and distance doesn’t even feel strange anymore.
And when I have nothing else to give, I just sit here in the hush of the breeze, hoping she’s sending something back.
“You probably noticed something different about me,” I say after a while.
“I cut and dyed it. I hope you’re not mad.
” My fingers brush the shorter, darker ends.
“That’s not what you’d be mad about, though.
Not really.” I tilt my face toward the sky, tear-streaks slowly drying.
“It wasn’t to erase you. I swear it wasn’t.
This is me now, Bryce. And for the first time…
I think I can actually look at pictures and remember you. ”
Eventually, I stand. My hand drifts first across her name, second down the carved butterflies.
“I promise I won’t hide anymore.”
I came empty-handed, but this vow is something I can leave with her.
Six little pieces of me drop onto the soil with a muted thud. Six small parts of me, laid to rest with her.
By the time I reach the car, I feel both lighter and heavier all at once. Changed.
My phone sits dead on the passenger seat, oblivious to what I’ve just done. I plug it in, start the engine, roll forward.
For maybe five miles, it’s just me, the road, and the ghost of my twin still pressed against my ribs. Then—
Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping.
Notifications pour in like rain on glass: 26 missed calls. 13 texts. Voicemails stacked.
Mom. Dad. Carson. Reese.
My heart lurches. I swerve onto the shoulder, fumbling.
Carson’s name glows.
You at yours yet?
An hour later.
Reese says he hasn’t seen you.
Where are you??
Brielle answer or I’m coming over
baby please pick up
Missed call. Missed call. Missed call.
I can’t breathe. My thumb hovers over my parents’ thread—then the screen lights up.
Incoming call: Mom.
I hit answer.
“Brielle?” Her pitch comes high. “Honey, where have you been—why didn’t you—”
“I’m okay.”
“You took the car and didn’t say anything—”
My father’s in the background. “Is it her? Let me talk—”
“—we’ve been calling all night—”
“I went to see Bryce.”
That halts her. Of course it does.
“I’m driving home now. Don’t worry. Just… sleep, okay?”
I hang up before she can reply.
My hands don’t feel like mine when they hover over the screen. Still, I type it out.
I’m okay. My phone died. Sorry.
The second it sends, his name flashes. The sound slices through me.
I flinch. Don’t answer. Can’t.
Pick up, please. I need to hear you.
I shake my head, throat tight. If I hear his voice, I’ll break open all over again.
I type: I’m sorry. I just can’t—
Pause. Backspace. Rewrite.
I can’t. We’ll talk tomorrow.
Brielle, please.
But I let it ring into nothing.