Episode 196
I’M STILL STANDING
Sebastian
My glass slips from my fingers and clatters onto the redwood deck, shattering. A cube of ice skates across the floor and lands at Heather’s feet. She drops her gorgeous lips into an O and stares at me.
Jake?
The name still conjures up images of summer days and shared secrets, of midnight adventures and laughter that echoed through our youth. Jake was—to all of us—a brother in all ways but blood. That’s what we all were to each other.
Of course, whoever is here isn’t the Jake from our past. He’s been dead and gone for twenty years.
Yet in the last six months, since Brett came up with the idea for this event, Jake’s phantom has hovered over us all, casting a shadow across our collective memories. We’ve talked about him more in these last months than we have in all the years he’s been gone.
June’s smile has faded, replaced by a look of concern. Emily’s gaze is fixed on me, her blue eyes full of curiosity and surprise. Sienna’s eyes seem to have a wisp of sadness in them.
And me?
My throat feels dry.
A staff member rushes to clean up the broken glass and spilled bourbon.
“Sorry,” I mumble to her.
“Not a problem, Mr. Tate. It’s my job.” She—I don’t know her name—gives me a smile.
Emily lightly touches my arm. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just I knew a guy named Jake. A long time ago.”
“Right,” she says. “And he was supposed to be dead. That’s what Brett said when he saw him. But this Jake is very much alive, and—”
I can’t breathe.
I know longer hear Emily.
The words sit in my head, heavy and impossible. They don’t make sense. They don’t belong in reality.
Jake is alive?
I run the sentence through my mind again, but it still refuses to land. It clatters around, crashing against everything I know, everything I’ve believed for years.
Jake is alive.
I feel dizzy, like the ground isn’t solid anymore, like my entire world just tilted on its axis.
My pulse pounds in my ears, my fingers numb as I press them against my temples.
My body feels disconnected, like I’m outside of myself, floating in the space between shock and something worse—something raw and ragged that I don’t have a name for.
Because this isn’t possible.
I grieved him. I carried his death like a weight strapped to my chest, like a scar that never fully healed.
I replayed my last moments with him in my head so many times, they’re burned into me.
The what-ifs, the guilt, the unbearable absence of him—it became part of who I am. Part of every song I sang.
And now, just like that, it was all a lie?
I exhale sharply and press a hand to my ribs to ease the pressure building there. My thoughts are racing too fast, slamming into each other, colliding in a mess of disbelief and anger and something I’m afraid to call hope.
Where has he been? Why now? Why did I have to hear it like this, secondhand, like some casual piece of news?
I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t help. The past collides with the present, the version of Jake I buried colliding with the possibility of him still out there, still breathing.
And if he’s alive…then everything I thought I knew about the past is a lie.
“Sebastian?” Emily’s voice.
I ignore her and brush past through the French doors to the front of the mansion.
The door stands open. My heart is racing. “Brett! Riv!” I yell as I run outside.
In the distance, near the concrete walkway to the beach, I see them.
River, standing, running his fingers through his disheveled hair.
And two blond men.
They’re embracing.
Oh my God…
I run toward them.
My mind is spinning, but my body acts on instinct alone. I reach them in the blink of an eye, standing only feet away from them, my breaths coming in harsh gasps.
“Jake!” My voice is a hoarse whisper.
I stumble forward, my heart pounding with each step. The world seems both incredibly large and incredibly small in this moment, as if time itself is warped.
The two men break apart.
Brett’s eyes are glazed over. His face is drained of color.
River is trembling visibly, his hands clenched into tight fists.
And the third…
He’s taller than I remember, broad-shouldered and tanned, his once-boyish features now etched with the wisdom and weariness of a man who’s seen too much. His hair is still blonder than Brett’s, though it’s darkened since we last saw him.
But it’s Jake.
Same blue eyes, same unruly hair, same slim build.
And God…he does look like Misty. How did I not see it before?
I simply stare at him. Gape at him, my heart still pounding.
“Jake?” I finally choke out.
Jake’s face goes through a series of emotions—shock, disbelief, and finally, an understanding so profound it nearly knocks me off my feet.
“Sebastian,” he says, his voice hoarse and filled with a mixture of pain and longing.
The sound of my name in his voice is like a punch to the gut, a ghost from the past springing back to life.
I try to say something, anything, but no words come out. I just gawk at him, trying to reconcile the man standing in front of me with the boy who died—or who we thought had died—all those years ago.
Finally, I speak, my voice as shaky and raw as I feel inside. “You’re alive.”
He nods slowly. “I am. Still standing. I’m so sorry, Seb.”
Sorry? He’s sorry?
I grab him into a bear hug. “Damn, Jake. God damn.”
“We have to tell Alex,” I hear River tell Brett.
“Yeah,” Brett agrees, “and you two have a fucking lot of explaining to do.”