In Her Wake (Ten Tiny Breaths 0.5)(5)

Jesus. We plowed into a car with that beast of a truck? “What happened to the other driver?”

Fresh tears spill out from my mom’s eyes and that unyielding heaviness against my lungs only grows.

“The police aren’t saying too much just yet. All I know is that there were five passengers in the car. Two adults and three teenagers,” my dad explains slowly. “They took a sixteen-year-old girl over to Sparrow. She needed a level-one trauma center.”

My stomach drops. “Did she make it?”

“Haven’t heard.”

“And the others?”

Dark blue eyes—the ones I inherited—lift to meet mine for a moment. So many emotions swirl within them—grief, pity, fear. He shakes his head once.

Five people . . . one survivor . . . That means . . .

Six people now dead.

All because I didn’t hold up my end of the deal.

I close my eyes against the rush of emotion.

■ ■ ■

Something silky tickles my fingertips. I don’t need to look to recognize the feel of Madison’s hair.

A night sky stretches out beyond the vertical blinds. It’s nine thirty, according to the wall clock. My parents are gone—hopefully to get some sleep. Madison has taken over for my mom in the chair next to my bed. She’s asleep, her head propped in the crook of one arm that rests next to my hip, facing me, her long, poker-straight black hair fanned across my hand. Her face splotchy from crying.

I simply lie there and study her pretty features as she sleeps.

Growing up, I never thought I’d fall in love with Madison. She was always just Sasha’s baby sister, hovering in the shadows and blushing whenever she caught our attention. But then that stick-figured, shy kid went away to camp the summer before her freshman year and came back with curves and an impish sparkle in her eye.

No one at our high school recognized her at first, but the guys sure as hell noticed her. I was one of them. But, metamorphosis or not, she was still Sasha’s sister.

The night that Sasha caught me kissing her in my backyard was the only time he ever took a swing at me with the intention to do some damage. I got the cold shoulder from him for a week after that and I was sure our friendship was over.

He came around eventually, though. After an hour-long speech about how he’d punch me if he ever heard me talking about rounding the bases with her and he’d outright kill me if I hurt her.

I wish he were here to make good on that promise.

Parched, I reach for the cup of water sitting on my bedside table. Except for a few quick, assisted walks around my room, I haven’t moved from this bed in two days and I’m beginning to get restless. The nurses have reduced the painkiller dosage and, though my body still hurts, the physical ache isn’t nearly as crippling.

When I turn back, Madison’s awake, her whiskey-colored eyes on me. I suck in a breath, earning a sharp stab in my chest. I never really noticed just how similar her eyes are to Sasha’s.

In fact, they’re almost identical.

“Were you guys drunk?” Drops spill down her cheeks. “Did Sasha drive home drunk?”

All I can hear is, “Did you let Sasha drive home drunk?”

And the simple answer is yes . . . I did.

■ ■ ■

The wood boards creak under my feet as I walk down the front hall of our apartment. Sasha and I moved in here almost two years ago, at the beginning of our sophomore year. Rent’s a bit high, but the pub downstairs and the rooftop deck off the kitchen were huge selling features.

I stall in front of Sasha’s bedroom, my gaze roaming the vacant space. Everything is gone. Even the thumbtacks that held his posters up. “You guys have been busy.” My voice echoes through the space, only amplifying the hollowness in my chest.

“My parents wanted to haul it all back now. You know, get it over with.” Madison tucks a strand of her long hair behind her ear. She hesitates for two seconds before closing the distance between us with faltering steps. At five-foot-one and barely tipping the scale at a hundred pounds, she’s tiny next to me. “I’ve packed most of your clothes up for you. Your mom said to leave the rest over the summer, so it’s here for you when you come back in the fall.”

Come back. Here.

I scan the room again, testing that notion out. Time stalled when my eyes cracked open in the hospital. Though I feel Sasha’s absence like a missing limb, I’m still drifting in a fog. None of this truly feels real yet. Maybe it would be sinking in by now, had I gone to Derek’s funeral. I wasn’t cleared for release, though. We sent flowers. It hardly seems adequate.

Madison runs her fingertips up and down my good arm in a soothing manner. “Do you think you can handle the drive?” That’s my girlfriend. She just lost her only brother and besides one all-out hysterical sobbing episode at the hospital, she has been focused on me the rest of the time.

“No, but it’s better than cramming into a plane.” And being stared at because of my green-and-yellow mottled face. The six-hour drive from Lansing to Rochester is guaranteed to be unpleasant, but at least I can stretch out in the backseat. Maybe with the long, drawn-out approach, I can mentally prepare myself for what’s to come.

Tomorrow, I will have to see my best friend in a coffin. The day after, I’ll have to watch him lowered into the ground.

Heavy steps approach from the doorway. “How many more boxes?”