Boyfriend Material (Hawthorne University, #2)(65)

Eric’s hand tightens on mine. “Mother. Where are you—”

“I’m taking her on a tour of the house. Of course.”

“Of course,” I whisper back as his eyes meet mine for a beat.

She sweeps me out of the giant ballroom, waving to people on the way as she bends her head to mine and tells me who the various people are. I barely remember any of their names.

She leads me to a beautiful, paneled library, then an elegant parlor where she receives her appointments. Apparently, she works for three separate charities.

At the base of a giant double staircase, her eyes glint. “Let’s take a peek upstairs. I bet you’d like to see his bedroom, wouldn’t you, Janis?”

“Julia and, uh, sure.”

“Great.” She doesn’t acknowledge the name correction but lifts the hem of her gown and goes up the stairs. I follow.

We reach an arched hallway that leads to several doors. She opens the first one. “This is my son’s room.”

I peer inside.

Odd.

First, it looks frozen in time, yet super clean. Second, this can’t be Eric’s room.

My childhood bedroom had trinkets and posters on the walls. I expected Eric’s to be filled with sporty stuff. Hockey sticks. Trophies. Photos of him.

His king-sized bed has a crimson and black comforter and the walls are navy. Over the bed is a red flag with Latin on it like a college flag. It’s not Hawthorne’s.

“This was his bedroom?”

She smiles, her expression as blank as a piece of paper. “He loved to read in front of that window, the one that overlooks the gardens.”

Read? I mean, sure, he’s a smart guy, but he isn’t the type to sit and read. He’d be out playing basketball or skating on the lake. “He must have been happy here,” I murmur.

“Very neat, yes? That’s our Kurt. You get one bit of lint on the floor and he’ll notice. He likes everything organized and clean. I’m so proud he got into law school.”

Was Harvard Law the collegiate flag over the bed?

I’m so confused.

“You mean Eric?”

She shakes her head adamantly. “I mean Kurt. He’s your boyfriend. Keep up, darling.”

My bones chill.

She thinks Eric is Kurt? Or pretends?

Eric mentioned she stayed in a psych ward while he was in high school.

We all have ways of coping with loss. I get that. But this is . . .

I put it aside as we walk down the hallway. I catch family photos on the wall. Mom. Dad. A young Eric, smiling like he has a secret. He looks different with his buzz-cut and baby fat. I want to pinch his chubby cheeks.

I see the other boy, Kurt. He resembles Eric, but his eyes are blue, and his hair is blond. He looks like his mother.

“Are you moving to Boston after you graduate?”

“No,” I say gently. “My mom is in a rehabilitation center after a stroke incident. I’m not sure where I’ll end up.”

“Oh no, that’s terrible. It must be hard with Kurt at school and you in Sparrow Lake.”

I’m not sure what to say. Tell the truth? Play along?

“Eric is also in Sparrow Lake.”

“Tell me, how serious are you and Kurt?”

I give in.

“Um, we’re dating. It’s kind of new.”

She hooks her arm through mine and we leave. When we get back to the ballroom, she drifts off to talk to some guests while I search for Eric.

I wave at him across the room, and he downs his champagne and breaks away from his father. He takes my hand and leads me through the crowd and outside to a covered patio with twinkling lights everywhere. Gas heaters line the perimeter. A few people mill around, but it’s mostly empty. In the distance, I can make out a lake covered in a white swath of snow.

He squeezes my hand. “What did Mom say?”

I wince, straining for tactful, but . . . “She called me Janis and referred to you as your brother. She showed me his room.”

He shuts his eyes and goes to the railing and gazes off into the distance. His hands clench the ornamental iron. “I’m sorry. She isn’t always like that. It’s the time of year. He died in December and she’s delicate.”

He pauses a moment, then continues.

“She wishes it were true, you know,” he murmurs. “She loved him more than me.”

I keep my face impassive even as his words make me want to gasp.

He sighs. “He dated this girl named Janis. And then your name is similar. She calls me on the phone sometimes and pretends I’m Kurt. I just go along.”

“I did the same. I didn’t know what else to do.”

He scrubs his face. “Kurt ticked all the boxes for them. Even in death, I can’t compete.”

“You’re pretty awesome too.”

He glances up at the stars. “Maybe.”

“No, you are,” I insist. “Do you want to be him? Is that what law school is about?”

Tormented topaz eyes catch mine. “I’m trying to be what my parents want.”

I shake my head, trying to make sense of it. “Because you feel guilty that you were there when your brother died?”

“I’m the one who walked in that trailer. If I hadn’t, he’d still be here.”