Chapter 14
Ashia
‘Can We Kiss Forever’ – Kina, Adriana Proenza
We pull into the garage, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to be home.
Well, that’s an exaggeration. But after today?
A night home cuddling in bed is exactly what I need.
Zeke has been silent the entire ride over, and I know he’s upset with me.
I don’t want to make him angry, but he needs to understand how serious this is.
This is his damn life we’re talking about, and while he may not care, the ones that love him do.
I don’t know how to make him see that—how to make him give a sliver of a shit about himself.
After I cut the car off, I turn to look at him before he has the chance to burst out of the car.
“Zeke?”
As if my voice alone angers him, he flings his seatbelt off and turns to face me. His lips are tight, and I can tell by the dark look in his eyes that he’s fed up with all of this.
“I know you’re sick of being treated like a kid,” I say flatly because honestly, I’m bothered by all of this as well.
“But you need to understand that we’re just trying to do what’s best for you.
You’re my older brother, and you almost left me.
I know that’s selfish as hell, especially after the way I’ve treated you, but I don’t care.
I’ve been stubborn, and annoying, and not knowing you more is completely my fault, but I’m going to do better now.
” I pause to try and get a gauge on his feelings—if anything I’m saying means anything to him.
“I know you miss Taylor… and I can’t even begin to imagine the pain that you’re in, but you’re not alone.
We care about you so much, and we want to help you, but we can’t if you don’t let us. ”
“I’m not taking those fucking meds, Ash. And you’re right. I’m sick of being constantly watched over like I’m a danger to everyone around me.” He sticks his hand out in the air and jerks it with every word, showing his aggravation.
“We’re not looking at you like that. We’re looking at you like you’re a danger to yourself!
Because you are! What if we let you go back to work, and you decide to run into a gun fight?
Or what if I give you a normal knife for dinner and not some flimsy piece of plastic and you decide to slit your wrists open?
What if I leave you alone for too long, and when I come back, I find you hanging from the ceiling again?
What then?!” I shout, and immediately regret it.
We sit in silence for what feels like eternity, just staring at each other through a veil of sorrow.
I look deeply into his eyes, ones that I've tried like hell to avoid, and I don't understand why anymore.
There isn't anyone I see in them anymore, other than my brother.
My father's image doesn't linger there any longer, and it doesn't hurt to examine his features.
I have to bite my lip and turn away as the feelings of despair consume me again.
All I can think of is him at the end of that rope.
The moment his eyes fluttered closed. How I stared desperately at his chest and begged for movement.
“I do miss Taylor…” he finally says softly, pulling me from the memory. “Every breath I take feels like I stole it. It was supposed to be me. It should’ve been me…”
“Zeke, you can’t think like that.” I turn and look back at him. He shakes his head in tiny movements and clenches his jaw.
“I was supposed to get up that morning and make breakfast. It was my turn… I promised her that I would,” he continues, speaking so softly that it’s like he’s afraid of his own words.
“I was just so tired that night, and because Taylor was too fucking sweet, and too fucking good for me, she let me sleep in. If I would’ve just gotten the fuck up, and done what I promised… it would’ve been me…”
I reach over and grab his hand, then squeeze him so tightly that my knuckles turn white. Surprisingly, he squeezes my hand back, and while he isn’t letting any tears fall yet, I see them welling in his eyes.
“This is not your fault, Zeke. You didn’t poison the water supply. This never should’ve happened.”
“But it did,” he continues. “And now I have to find a way to live with it. I didn’t want to.
It hurt too fucking much. But then I saw your face when you walked in, and it was like that whole damn building collapsed on top of me…
” He squeezes my hand a little tighter, so I do the same, just as firmly.
“Then I thought of my parents. My mom, especially. D, Carter, Alex, and everyone else, and all I remember thinking when everything went black was that I fucked up…”
I reach across the middle console and drape my arm around his shoulders—much like he did for me last night.
He accepts it by wrapping one of his around my back, and we just hug each other.
We stay like that for a few moments, and relief courses through me.
I know how selfish that sounds too, but at least he’s talking.
He’s opening up, and I’ll take his feelings of regret as a small win.
“I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to live either. I feel like I don't deserve it,” he confesses softly. “I don’t know how to navigate in limbo.”
I pull back and grip his hand again.
“We’ll travel through it with you. Okay?
I may not know exactly how you feel, but I do know that.
” I pat his hand once and then wipe my eyes with the pad of my thumb to stop myself from crying.
He gently pulls his hand away and runs the bottom of his shirt over his face—seemingly doing the same.
Then, after a deep breath, he looks back at me.
“I’m still not taking those pills,” he says with a tiny, sly smirk, and opens the car door. I just shake my head and get out, too.
My gaze drifts to the other side of the garage, and a strange, tingly feeling trails down my back when I don’t see the bike. If the Charger wasn’t sitting where it normally does, I would start questioning myself about what he drove this morning. Didn’t he say he’d beat me home?
“What’d you say, Ash?” Zeke asks, and I realize I must’ve said that out loud.
“Oh. Um, nothing. Damien said he’d get home before we did, but the bike isn’t here.” I turn and step in his direction as I shake the unnerving feeling coursing through my limbs.
“He could’ve gotten held up,” he suggests, and I just shrug, knowing there’s a good possibility of that. He normally calls me to tell me, though, and that thought doesn’t make me feel any better.
Zeke and I walk through the door, and something immediately feels off.
The house feels eerie, like no one has stepped foot in here all day.
He should’ve been home by now, by at least thirty minutes, but instead of instantly freaking out, I take a deep breath.
He could’ve very easily gotten caught up in a conversation with Carter, or Satori could’ve fought him over something else.
My first instinct leads me to pull out my phone and call him.
I’m sure it’s some small thing that he’s going to feel horrible over.
It’s either that, or he’s already on his way home, and he’s speeding to get here because he’s late.
I press the call button, but my stomach sinks when it goes straight to voicemail.
That tingly feeling only intensifies, but I force it down.
He could be on the other line, or it could have died for the first time since I’ve known him.
He could’ve thrown and smashed it, and that’s more plausible than anything else. So, I decide to call Carter instead.
His phone only rings once before he picks up, and that only makes my paranoia even worse.
“Hey, Ash. What’s up?” he says in a warm, friendly tone, like he’s in a good mood. Okay, so nothing big popped up. That’s a good sign.
“Hey, when is Damien heading home?” I manage to ask as calmly as possible, not at all like the freaked-out mess I’m feeling like.
I mean, how crazy do I sound? My husband is late coming home from work, and immediately, my anxiety goes haywire?
It’s not a small freak-out, either. It’s one of those ‘if I don’t hear his voice soon, I’ll explode’ kind of levels.
Carter hesitates to respond, and the silence is deafening.
“What are you talking about? He should be there.” He says it so surely, like he thinks I’m overreacting.
“Well, he’s not. Is he not at the Attic?” I look over to Zeke, and the look on his face is grim. The worry etched onto his features probably mimics mine with his furrowed brows and guarded stance. He immediately marches towards the stairs, obviously growing just as concerned as I am.
“D? Are you home, man?” he shouts as he walks up the stairs.
“No, he left a couple of hours ago,” Carter says plainly, like that was common knowledge. “You’re sure he’s not there? It’s a pretty big house.”
“When have I ever walked inside, and he wasn’t waiting for me like a lost puppy?”
All I hear back is a soft ‘humph’ before he replies.
“Okay, that’s a good point. Let me look up his location.”
“His phone’s off.”
“It’s what?” he asks a little louder, like he’s suddenly way more concerned.
“Okay, see? That’s the reaction I was looking for.” I roll my eyes and look over to the stairs as Zeke makes his way back down, shaking his head. He looks around the main space, almost like he's avoiding me, and my stomach drops. His eyes finally meet mine once he reaches the last step.
“He’s not upstairs, but you need to see this,” he says with an ominous tone.
I sprint towards the stairs, letting him lead me upward, and the moment we barge into the bedroom, my throat tightens.
The closet door is wide open, and most of our dresser drawers are pulled ajar.
His clothes are thrown around the room, but some of them appear to be missing, like most of his T-shirts and his good jeans.
The black duffle bag he likes to use is gone too, and my heart stops.