Kris studies me, mouth open slightly. The whole world seems to move in slow motion now, and if there’s anyone left on the beach, I don’t notice. He takes a step closer to me, lowering his head as he points a finger in my direction. “You wrote me that horrible letter and you left it under my windshield wiper in my parent’s driveway. It said you hated me—” His voice breaks and he swallows before continuing, “—you hated me for what I did and you never wanted to see me again. Don’t tell me you don’t remember that, Delaney because I sure as hell do.”
I shake my head, feeling the world swirl into nothingness as my vision focuses solely on a button on his shirt. “I never sent you a letter. Why the hell would I do that?” My hand presses against his chest, flattening my fingers into the smoothness of his sternum. I don’t know why I do it, but I don’t really care. Tears trail down my cheeks and I don’t care about that either. “I loved you, Kris. I came home from the hospital expecting you to be waiting for me on the front porch. You weren’t. You didn’t call and you didn’t come over and you didn’t say hi to me at school. You left. I needed you and you left.”
I suck in a deep breath and swallow the lump in my throat as more tears burst from my eyes. “I loved you and I needed you and it wasn’t your fault that Tyler died—”
Strong arms pull me into his chest, clenching me so tightly it shoves the air out of my lungs. I suck it back in a moment later when another burst of tears pour out of me. Kris’s hands wrap around my back, tangling in my hair as his fingers hold onto me for dear life. I press my face into his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin and taking comfort in the beating of his heart. I hadn’t realized how much I needed this hug from him, this resolution that things were going to be okay. Closure from that horrible day ten years ago.
“You should hate me,” he whispers. “It’s all my fault.”
I squeeze him tightly and lift my head to place a kiss on the side of his hair. “No, it’s not,” I whisper back. “It’s not your fault.”
Hours later, the sun has set but the ocean hasn’t fallen silent. I sit between Kris’s legs on a beach towel he swears was only coincidentally in his truck, leaning my back against his chest as I look out into the water that glows under a nearly full moon. We haven’t stopped talking.
He tells me about the inheritance he received from his late grandfather that allowed him to buy the gym, and how he only bought a new truck after driving his old one until the wheels fell off. He worked as firefighter after college and quit recently to run the gym. Yes, he’s saved people’s lives and, sadly lost some. He doesn’t talk about that ex-girlfriend, but I guess I don’t want him to.
Somehow it’s easier to talk like this—bodies touching in a familiar and long overdue way, but in a position that makes us not have to look at each other. Kris may be gorgeous, but the ocean is a more beautiful sight when you’re talking about your dead brother and digging up skeletons that have long since been buried.
“Tell me again what the letter said.” I lay my head back against his shoulder and he presses his cheek to my forehead. He draws in a deep breath and slowly lets it out.
“It called me a murderer…an asshole…It said you never want to see me again and if I ever talk to you, you will call the police for harassment.” Kris sucks in another deep breath. “I really don’t like reliving all of this.”
I glance back at him. “I know, I’m sorry. I was hoping there would be some kind of hint that would tell me who sent you that letter. I just don’t know why anyone would do that to us. They had to know where you lived,” I say, pointing to my finger as I try to come up with ways to narrow down the vast list of people who could have done that all those years ago. “But, your brother was crazy popular so everyone knew where you lived.”
Kris thinks for a moment. His warm breaths tickle my hair. “It was written with a quickly scribbled handwriting that looked a lot like yours. The second I saw the note I knew it was from you. I mean, no offense Del, but your handwriting sucks.”
I don’t bother getting offended because he’s right—I have the penmanship of a thirteen-year-old boy. “You have no idea how badly it hurt me,” I say. “Whoever wrote that letter should die.”
Kris runs a hand through my hair. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you. It took me years to get over Tyler’s death, and even longer to get over the hurt of knowing you hated me.”
“Years?” I ask incredulously, before feeling a little guilty for thinking that way. Of course he was just as affected by Ty’s passing as I was. Tyler may have been my brother, but Kris accidently killed him. That’s a level of guilt I will never understand.
Kris nods. “When I went to college I had two roommates, so of course I had to be the big man in front of them every day. I waited until they were gone so I could get in the shower and cry. It was the only place I could deal with my guilt and pain—somewhere private where the water would drown out my tears.”
“Wow,” I breathe, remembering how many times the shower has been my crying sanctum.
“I’ve thought about it a million times over the years…wondered if I should look you up and apologize. I wanted to call you and beg for forgiveness, but I’m a coward and I never did. That day at the gym orientation, I seriously thought I was going to drop dead when I saw you.”
“Yeah that day sucked,” I interject, feeling a stab of anxiety as I recall that memory.
“Luckily you dashed out of there and I had time to gather my composure before seeing you again. I really thought you were going to quit.”
“I thought I was too,” I say with a smile as I glance back at him.
“I’m glad you didn’t,” he says. His lips press lightly to my forehead, sending a chill down my spine before I turn back toward the ocean.
“I wanted to run after you that day at the gym, but…” My body lifts and falls with his deep breathing. “Like I said…I’m a coward.”
As we sit in the middle of a now-empty beach, I feel my body relax as the salty air brushes across my face. A piece of my heart aches as it breaks free from the painful shackles held together by years of brokenness. I’ll never be whole without my brother, but I can finally begin to heal.
I have no sure way of knowing that Kris is telling the truth about receiving a letter that I know I didn’t send, but I can feel his honesty in my gut and I trust him. For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel pain from the black hole in my chest. I am at peace. I am happy with Kris.
So when he asks me a moment later if I would like to go back to his house, I answer without hesitation.
“I would love to.”
Chapter 17
Despite our catching up chat earlier tonight, Kris never mentioned where he lives. So when he passes the turn to leave the island and head back to the mainland via the only bridge that connects them, I lift an eyebrow. “Where are we going?” I ask.