Crazy Stupid Love (Crazy Love #1)(62)
“I’ll text him in the car, it’s fine. No way I’m gonna let you go alone.”
“She’s not alone.” Gavin waits until we are both in the hall before pulling the door closed.
Ignoring his comment, Harlee links her arm through mine, clearly seeing that I need the additional support right now. I’m already a mess from the last couple of weeks, now to have Gavin show up so out of the blue and tell me Decklan is in some kind of trouble, my poor mind is having trouble keeping up.
We reach Gavin’s truck that’s parked just outside the dorm building in no time. Harlee insists that I ride in the middle so she doesn’t have to sit next to him. The tension between these two is off the charts. Even in my fog-like state, I can see it plain as day.
I wait until Gavin has pulled out of the parking lot and is speeding down the road before finally pinning my eyes on the side of his face.
“Now are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?” I ask, feeling like I might split apart from the anticipation of not knowing what he’s going to say or how it may or may not change the way I feel about Decklan.
It’s clear that whatever it is, it’s bad. Otherwise, Gavin wouldn’t be so hesitant to tell me, and Decklan wouldn’t have chosen to keep it from me for that matter.
My stomach flutters with nerves as Gavin opens his mouth and starts to speak. He gets only five words out before I stop hearing him. A rush of emotion hits me like a tidal wave, pulling me under its crippling weight, inhibiting my ability to hear, to breathe, to process the information I’m being presented with.
I never knew heartbreak until Decklan forced me out of his life. But now...now I know heartbreak beyond my own. Because right now my heart is breaking all over again, only this time, it’s breaking for Decklan, not because of him.
****
By the time we reach the cemetery the sun has almost set, a low orange glow now filling the evening sky. Gavin tells me where I can find Conner’s grave but says he thinks it’s best if he and Harlee hang back.
My heart is beating so loudly against my rib cage as I make my way through the cemetery, I swear even the dead can hear it.
I finally spot Decklan along the back row of grave sites, my feet faltering the moment I see him. He’s sitting on the ground, his knees pulled into his chest, his head down. It takes everything I have to force my legs to work, to make my body move towards him.
“Decklan?” I stop just a couple feet behind where’s he sitting in front of his brother’s headstone; Conner Roderick Taylor January, 3 1994-November 29, 2008 scrawled across the front in the perfect font.
Today’s date... November 29.
His shoulders tense the moment my weak voice registers, but he doesn’t turn to face me. Several long silent moments pass between us; him unable to speak, me too afraid to move any closer.
“What are you doing here?” When his voice finally filters through the silence, it’s broken and riddled with emotion. It would be enough to break my heart again if it wasn’t already splintered into a million different pieces.
“Gavin.” I know he doesn’t need any additional explanation. “He’s worried about you.”
“He doesn’t need to be.” His response is cold, distant.
“I’m worried about you,” I add.
“Please don’t.” I can hear the emotion clog his throat, and it takes everything I have to remain at a distance.
“Tell me what happened. Tell me about Conner.” I take a couple steps forward, stopping just a foot behind him.
“Tell me, Decklan,” I request softly when he makes no attempt to answer me.
“He was a great kid.” His voice breaks in the middle. “He was three years younger than me, only fourteen.” He stops abruptly, his shoulders trembling slightly.
“Keep going.” I slide down next to him, my eyes focused on the stone in front of us.
“He used to follow me everywhere.” He finally continues after a long moment. “He always had to tag along no matter what I was doing. I used to hate it.” He lets out an emotion filled laugh. “I remember just wishing he would leave me the hell alone.”
“Tell me what happened to him, Decklan.” I finally chance a peek in his direction, my stomach bottoming out the moment I register his flushed tear-stained face.
It’s one thing to see a man cry, it’s something else entirely to see a man like Decklan cry. Tears immediately form at the back of my eyes, and I blink rapidly trying to will them away.
He wipes at his cheeks with the back of his hands, his gaze remaining firmly in front of him. Every fiber of my being wants to wrap him in my arms and comfort him, but I refrain, knowing right now it would likely make things worse.
“I tried to get him to stay home. I told him he was too young for the type of shit that went on at Paxton’s parties, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. I could never hold my ground with that kid.” He smiles, but it’s a painfully gut-wrenching combination of happiness over the memory of his brother and devastation over what he knows comes next.
“I was f*cking with the radio. I should have seen the stop sign. I’d driven that road hundreds of times before, I knew it was there, yet somehow on that night, I ran straight through it. A truck approaching from the right hit the passenger side of my car going around fifty miles an hour according to the police report. I don’t remember it. I don’t remember anything. Just the crack of my head on the driver’s side window and the sound of shattering glass and crunching metal.” He takes a deep shaky breath, clearly trying to hold himself together.