Page 161 of Resurrection
"I knew what I was doing," he insists. "You forgot? I'm good at this stuff."
"I'm still mad," I repeat, softer this time. "Mad at you for more than tonight, Adri."
His expression shifts, a subtle tension settling across his face. He knows what I mean. I can see it in the way he suddenly avoids my gaze.
"Seventeen years, Adri. How could you?" I push, my voice breaking to a whisper. "How could you hit on my boyfriend?" I should be screaming. I should be furious. But all I feel is the small, shaky sadness of wasted time.
"Sis." He meets my eyes, a lifetime of regret in his. "I was a dumb, confused kid who was freaking out about his sexuality. And he wasn’t your boyfriend yet."
"You never tried again after he started seeing me?" I ask, a strange tenderness creeping into my question.
"No," he says, a bitter laugh escaping him. "You made sure of that." There’s a moment of silence, then he goes on, "I screwed up both your lives when I asked Ty to leave you behind. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret. It’s just…no matter how hard I try I can’t get my heart to settle, so I drown it."
Something clicks into place. Something I never understood. Something I never saw. "It’s not PTSD, is it? You've been drinking because of me," I say, the words slow, deliberate.
He flinches.
"All this time, I thought it was?—"
"You're right, Shrimp." He looks away again, his eyes fixed on some distant, painful memory. "That's why I do it. Why I—" His voice is thick, and he stops before he finishes the sentence.
I'm breathless, stunned by the realization. "You really think you ruined my life?"
"Didn't I? You said it earlier."
I see him in a way I never have before. My brother. My family. Broken and ashamed. The boy he was and the man he's become, all of it tangled together, all of it catching up to him at once. He's scared. He’s as scared as I am. He's afraid that this will never be okay. Afraid that I'll hate him forever. Seventeen years of distance and regret are a canyon between us, but I see him, and I see the fragile hope that he can be forgiven.
I wipe my eyes, letting the tears fall. "You didn't know," I say, the words catching in my throat. "You didn't know it would be like this. And I obviously exaggerated a little because I was shocked."
His voice is rough and uneven. "No, I didn’t. I thought— I thought you’d be happy. I thought you’d never look back after leaving this stupid town."
"You could have told me, though."
He laughs, a sound that's not quite laughter. "How do you tell someone you did that to them? How do you tell your sister you kissed the boy she liked?"
"You just do," I say. "You don’t wait two decades."
"I didn't want to hurt you all over again."
I blink, a fresh wave of tears spilling down my cheeks. He's lived with this guilt for so long. He's lived with it like it's a part of him, like it's something he can't ever let go of. "Why didn't you just say something? Why did you let it get like this?"
"You know how I am." He shrugs, a humorless, bitter motion. "Too damn proud. Too damn stupid."
"And you thought you'd get away with it, huh?"
"I hoped."
I wipe my eyes. He doesn't know how to fix it, but he's trying. He's really trying. "I think we can start over," I say. "I think—" The words catch in my throat.
"Don't," he says. "Don't say that unless you mean it."
My answer is a broken sob, the sound of seventeen years, the sound of everything. "I do… But, Adri? It’s not Ty’s fault. Don’t hate him. He just did what you told him to do."
He takes a deep breath and studies my face for a few seconds. "Okay, Shrimp. I’ll give him a chance, and if he breaks your heart again, it won’t be because of me, so I’ll cut his balls off like I promised."
He reaches for me, careful of his shoulder. I fold into him, my arms around his neck, my heart full of too much to say. He holds me, his touch hesitant, unsure, as if I'm something he can't believe he's allowed to have.
We stay like that for a long time, the past slowly unspooling, the future tentatively finding its way in. I draw back to wipe my eyes again, and I know we’re okay. I know we’ll be okay.
