Page 89 of Thorns from the Fall

ROMAN

The sun isn’t even up yeton the morning after my brother killed himself, and I already have a large, heavy box full of his remains in my hands. I don’t know why I expected it to take longer than a few hours, but I suppose it’s just a body.

Margot handled all of this shit, and I’m sure there was coercion involved, but she did exactly what I needed. I wouldn’t even know where to start when it comes to this. I haven’t slept, and I’ve been moving as if through molasses all night long. I’m useless, and I’ve never been more thankful for Margot.

Nico’s sitting in his car at the entrance to the cemetery, giving me some privacy. I’m grateful he didn’t bring Hale along to witness this, dropping him off at the compound instead. In the meantime, Margot is dealing with the mess in my living room that Remy left behind.

I haven’t gone back inside since it happened.

I don’t think I’ll ever set foot inside again.

The scent of Remy’s blood had followed Gwyn when she came out onto the deck, and it’s lingered in my nostrils ever since.

Just like some of his last words have repeated like a mantra in my mind.

Roman, you can’t fix us. Sometimes life is just too goddamn hard. She’ll do it one way or another eventually if she really wants to.

He’d spelled it out for me, right there, clear as day. He found a way, and he did what he wanted. I don’t even know how he knew her gun was there.

It’s my fault for not inspecting the gun further. All of this is my fault. Remy’s safety hadn’t even crossed my mind.

He’d been okay, or so I thought. Sad, sure, but in recent days he’d turned it around. Somehow, I’d mistaken his shift in demeanor for hope. But now I know the truth. Still, though, he hadn’t seemed as if he’d take the first opportunity to kill himself.

And yet.

I tear up, thinking about his motive. I know it wasn’t just one thing, especially after conversations I had with Gwyn about her own ideation. But I’m sure he feels responsible for Kayla’s death.

Felt, I correct myself. It won’t be the last time I have to remind myself that he’s gone.

I’m sick to my stomach when I think about the fact that Kayla might be alive, and he’ll never know.

This hurts a hell of a lot worse than the first time I was informed of his death. Is it because I know who is to blame this time? There is no mystery now. I don’t suspect Bill Parsons or someone acting on his behalf. I don’t have Gwyn to question or vengeance to push me forward.

It’s only me or Remy.

I can’t blame Gwyn. I’m glad she left because I can’t handle looking at her and thinking this could have just as easily been her. I certainly can’t blame her though. I’m the one who took her gun. I left it unattended. This isn’t her fault.

Remy had done what he wanted to do.

It’s not fucking fair. Because I want to be angry. I want to kill someone for this, but there is no one deserving of my fury.

“Je suis désolé, Maman,” I say, head leaning back against the tree I planted as a child. After she died, my uncle would bring me as often as I wanted—for a while. Eventually, he refused, citing my need to move on. But I figured out public transit pretty fucking quick, and I tended to her gravesite with care. It’s the only place that I feel close to her.

She’d probably be upset with me for not watching him closely enough.

Carefully, I open the small pine box holding a velvet bag filled with my brother’s remains. I know there are other places he enjoyed in life that he probably would have preferred to be his final resting place, but he sacrificed that choice. I know it’s selfish to think that, but I don’t care. I’m the one who has to go on without him. I’m the one who has to find a place that makes me feel close to him.

I love him, and this loss will echo throughout my life, but fuck if I’m not angry with my baby brother.

I stand, opening up the velvet bag wide. Nico had told me to watch out for the wind, but other than that, had offered no guidance. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing as I dump out my brother’s ashes over my mother’s grave, but I didn’t expect it to have such a physical effect on me. It feels as if the bag weighs a thousand pounds, and I struggle to pour it out. For a second, I consider that I should have put him in an urn like Margot suggested, but the thought of my brother sitting on a shelf in a pretty ceramic vase makes me irrationally angry.

He’s only been dead for a few hours, and the grief is fucking heavy. But knowing he’s here, with our mother, helps lighten the load.

The last time I was here, Gwyn was with me. She’d tried to get me to be honest with her. To admit that I wanted what had been inevitable between us. If I’d told her the truth then, would things have been different? Would we have worked together totake over the coven and give her the vengeance she desired? Would we have been a team when it came to caring for Remy?

As the winter sun rises, sallow like a corpse, I walk back to the entrance of the cemetery.

“Okay, yeah. Bye,” Nico says as I get into the car, setting his phone in his lap. “Which hotel did you put Gwyn up at?”

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