Page 150 of Bring You Back

Julian

I adjust my shirt as I leave Camille to get dressed, shutting the door behind me. It’s still a little soon for my mom to be home, but that doesn’t mean Banks isn’t here. Or that he hasn’t been here, listening to me and Camille like a pervert.

I see his head first. His spikes sticking straight up over the couch. Yeah, he no doubt heard every single sound Camille just finished making for me. I chuckle despite myself and brace for the hounding, the brow waggling, the elbow jabbing. The inevitable remarks about my trading ingoldforplastic.

My steps halt right before I reach the kitchen at the sight of a second blonde head sticking up over the couch. Her laugh keeps me here, rooted to this spot as my head tries to put together the pieces of the day, none of them fitting with Reyna being here right now. Not so casually. So normal. Talking with Banks like we hadn’t fought in the street this morning. Like we didn’t break.

She looks over her shoulder and meets my eyes, unblinking, unwavering. Her face is almost void of feeling, and I can’t read her. I can’t recall her ever looking at me this way. Looking at anyone this way. Reyna isn’t a blank face. She’s lines, shapes, color. I don’t like this. I don’t like the way this unsettles me.

I see it then—the flash of color, the hurt I’ve caused as her eyes dip down from mine, then back to Banks. While I’m relieved she’s still in there, this is definitely not normal. She’s here for a reason. One I know is going to rattle us even more.

I don’t get the chance to ask, to nip this before Camille comes out here, because when I step around the corner, I see my mom and my steps halt again.

What the fuck is going on? Two out of the four people in this room shouldn’t be here right now.

“Hey, sweetie,” Mom greets me, too nonchalant for what she heard coming from the guest room. Whateveryoneheard. “Did you have a good day?” She sips the drink in her hands around a slight smile, and I tilt my head, my eyes and brows narrowing. My mother’s actually teasing me and trying to hide it.

I laugh despite myself, despite the flush making its way to my neck. “Why do I get the feeling you already know the answer?” She sets down her drink, but otherwise says nothing. “When’d you get home?”

“About an hour ago,” she says with a knowing look, and I grimace. She heard a lot more than I thought she did. Have I lost time? “I got off early,” she answers my silent question, gives me a pointed look to say,It’s a good thing I did.

But she didn’t try to stop us. She knew I was having sex under her roof and she let me do it, anyway. She let me be … happy, for lack of a sexual word I’m not even going to think around my mother.

My brief humiliation fades to guilt. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Yes, well,” she starts, and I know what’s coming. She might not have stopped us, but we’re still not in the clear. “To set an example forthis one”—she motions her head toward Banks who’s now approaching to meet us—"I’ll have to punish you two.” I nod, trying to keep a serious face as I know this punishment isn’t going to be a real punishment. “You’ll cook dinner every night for a week, and she’ll do the dishes.”

I can’t stop my smile. Before Camille left, before my father left, we were known to do occasional dinner and dishes around here.

Off my look, Mom adds, “Yes, but now youhaveto.” She winks at me and I laugh.

“That’sit?” Banks complains, now at the island, across from me. Movement drags my stare over his shoulder, and I see Reyna come to a stop at the back of the couch.

My mom ignores Banks and walks over to me. “I’m happy for you,” she says low enough for me to hear, then loud enough for Banks, she adds with a stern look, “But keep it out of here.”

I nod with another serious face as she moves past me for her room.

Banks points at me. “Look who got caught.” He points at himself, a smug smile now on his face. “And look who never does.”Not lately.He does a little dance that makes me chuckle until my eyes land back on Reyna who’s watching me with that blank face.

Not blank. Closer now, I see the color. It hasn’t left. It’s morphed, reshaped by resolve. I’ve worn the same look. She’s tired. Done. Has a plan for this. Her head has shifted, and I’m now reminded that she’s here for a reason.

Camille

Things happen for a reason.Part of me wants to believe the phrase again, reapply it to my life. But what possible reason could there be for my brother’s death?

I will never believe Caleb wasmeantto die. But his death canmeansomething.

I can believe that I was meant to be in Bellsby. That I’m meant to be here, with Julian.

I can believe that I hadn’t died with Caleb that night. That maybe that night, in its own twisted way, made me more alive. Brought me back to the life I wanted. Back to the life I needed. Back to living.

I can understand that if my brother hadn’t died, my friends, my life here would still be a memory, growing more distant with passing time.

I can understand that if I hadn’t followed my brother to Ohio, Julian and I wouldn’t be who we are today. The friends, the couple we are now. Weareaffected. We’re a new us. A better us.

The sting builds, and I squeeze my eyes shut, letting the tears fall for Caleb. The calm, the happiness I’ve been seeking has finally reached me, but it’s going to take more time before I can find peace for Caleb’s absence. Time I still have. Time my brother wouldn’t want me to waste.

I rub at my face, compose myself with a few deep breaths, fling off the covers I’ve settled back under to get dressed to meet Julian.

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