Page 80 of The Voice We Find

“Norma baked me cookies as a thank you for blowing off her driveway. I didn’t see the Mercedes SUV until I came back out.”

I want to tell him it’s okay. But it’s not. There is nothing okay about my brother.

“Don’t let him in your head,” August says firmly, pulling back enough to look me in the eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“I know his type of manipulation.”

Curiosity burdens my brow. “How?”

“I knew someone just like him. My ex-boss and girlfriend of nearly two years in LA.” His lips pull into something like a grimace. “Vanessa. She was a real piece of work. At first, I didn’t see it. Or maybe I just didn’t want to see it, but eventually, her narcissism became too obvious to ignore. I regret not walking away sooner.” He pulls me close again, and it feels as if he needs me as much as I need him in this moment. “I regret a lot of things about that time.”

We stay that way for several minutes, hugging in a contented, comforting silence. There will be plenty of time for me to ask more about Vanessa, just like there will be plenty of time for him to ask more about my brother. But for now, I have more pressing issues to address.

“After this, my transportation privileges will be over,” I say with certainty. “Which means I’ll need to find another way to get here.” I ponder the little savings I’ve been able to put away after paying Dana back what I owed her for past rent and incidentals. And then I try not to think about what I will owe my brother if the van is totaled. If the majority of my trust payout is wiped, then my dependence on my audio contract has drastically increased.

“You can use my car.”

“What? No.” Immediately, I break our embrace. “That’s not happening.”

“Yes, it is. I have my dad’s Bronco in the garage. It just had a tune-up. Your weekly commute is ten times what mine is.”

“What about when Gabby drives? I know she loves that Bronco. She’s mentioned it to me several times. Isn’t she going to be learning soon?” I’d wondered this before, as Gabby is technically six months past the legal driving age in the state of California.

But August gives a single shake of his head. “It’s not an option.”

I want to ask him why not, but this is neither the time nor place for this conversation. Despite the start of a new relationship, the aftermath of a storm, a little sister who is hiding her hearing aids, and a bully brother who just threatened my entire financial future, we still have an audiobook to finish the raw recording of by the end of the week. From there, August will still have all the sound effects and original intros and outros to add and polish.

I take his hand and point us in the direction of the studio. I need to get my head in the game. I also need to put this conversation about my future transportation to rest. “I’ll figure out a plan later.”

He tugs me to a stop outside his studio door. “Sophie, I want you to take my car for however long you need it. Last night you agreed to adjust your future plans for my sake, so please, allow me this.”

I glance up at him, remembering the first day we met on this little stoop outside his studio, never knowing all that would come. How can I deny him anything when he’s looking at me like that? So I don’t deny him; I simply rise up on my toes and accept his generosity.

Voice Memo

Gabby Tate

12 months, 1 day after the accident

August went surfing without me again.

I know it’s probably not fair of me to be so angry about this, but I am angry. First of all, August knows how much I miss surfing, and second of all, the doctor never said I shouldn’t surf, he just said it might not be the best thing for me considering my ears. It’s the same reason he wants me to wait on my driver’s permit. But you know what? I’m tired of considering my ears. Sometimes it feels like my ears are the only thing anybody wants to consider about me anymore. Except for Tyler.

How is it my deaf friend is the one person in my life who treats me like there’s nothing wrong with me?

Okay, fine. None of this is the real reason I’m so angry with August.

The online grief therapist Aunt Judy set me up with suggested I try to talk to my brother again about the events I remember about the accident, and since yesterday was the one-year anniversary of their deaths, I figured a little hope might do us both some good. But every time I even hint at what happened to me after the crash, August finds a way to change the subject. He must think I’m too dumb to notice when he does this, but I notice a whole lot more than he realizes. Tyler says observation can be a superpower. I think he’s right.

Finally, I straight up asked August why he always changes the subject whenever I talk about the day of the accident. And you know what he said? He said it’s because he doesn’t want to encourage my belief in something that never happened. Something he calls “a figment of my imagination.”

I was so furious I went to bed without dinner.

21

August

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