Right here and now, there’s only Kole, me, and a whole mountain of baggage I can’t let anyone else see. If Kole wasn’t so … Kole, he wouldn’t see it either.
Minutes pass, but I can’t tell how many. Ten, twenty, forty-five. Every time I think I’m getting the gut-wrenching crying under control, it starts again.
“Come here,” Kole says. I let him pull back and lead me toward a park bench. He sits with his arm running along the back and gestures for me to sit next to him..
When he pulls me in close, I can finally let some of the fight I’m holding on to go. He makes me feel warm even though I’m near frozen.
Being in his arms is the safest place I’ve felt in a really long time. As long as he keeps touching me, I think I’ll be okay.
Here with him, I don’t have to worry about what my siblings will think. I won’t have to worry about their future or mine. I don’t have to be strong for them.
I don’t have to pretend I’m not struggling.
Because I am struggling.
“I wished it was me,” I mumble.
“What?”
“When Dad and June died, I wished it was me.”
Kole’s arms tighten around me. “Oh, Asher.”
I realize how it sounded now. “No, no, don’t think I’m suicidal or anything like that. When they died, I couldn’t help feeling guilty that they were gone. They were really good people and put up with a lot of shit from West and me. Nothing too serious—typical angsty teenager crap—but they dealt with it, you know? And raised their own five kids. Why did they have to die? It seemed like such a waste when we all know it’s me who’s a waste. I don’t take anything seriously, I hate everyone—”
Kole nudges me. “Hey.”
I roll my eyes. “I hate almost everyone. I’m not … I’m not a good person. They were. I just … don’t understand.”
“It sounds like you’re suffering from a very complicated and rare disorder.”
I turn my head. “What?”
His lips turn up at the edges. “Grief.”
“For a moment there, I thought you might actually have an answer for me.”
“I hate to say it, but the only treatment for grief is time. Eventually it will get easier and easier to get through the day without being an asshole.”
“I hate that my brothers and sisters have to grow up without them. I hate that they’re stuck with me and West.”
Kole shifts, and I get the feeling he wants to say something but is holding back. He could ask me anything right now. I don’t have the strength to fight it anymore. I’ll also give anything to stop my train of thought and rambling musings about how life is so unfair and why I can’t seem to be a half-decent person when I know how privileged I am.
“Ask it,” I say.
“Ask what?”
“What you want to ask but are worried it’ll piss me off.”
Kole’s fingers link through mine on my thigh. “What’s the deal with you and West? Your relationship is confusing. Sometimes it feels like you hate him, sometimes it sounds like you think he hates you when I know for a fact he loves you and wants to protect you, and then other times …”
“Other times, what?”
“It seems like you’re two sides of the same coin.”
“Where to start with that mess?” I sigh. “When Mom passed away, Dad depended on West to look after me a lot. They had him when they were eighteen. Me when they were twenty-four, and then Mom died when she was twenty-six. I don’t even remember her, but West was eight.”
“How did she die?”
“Pulmonary embolism. They didn’t know something had happened until she didn’t pick West up from school. I was with her, but I don’t remember.”
“You were two. That’s understandable.”
“Dad looked to West a lot to help with me. At least until June came along.”
“He was a kid.”
“I know, and it’s why sometimes I feel like he resents me.” I flip Kole’s hand over and draw circles against his palm to avoid thinking too much about what I’m saying. “Even though I was little back then, I felt it. I thought it was ‘Oh, my annoying little brother wants to be like me, and I’m the best’ which is why I fought playing hockey for so long. Then when I found out hey, I’m actually really good at hockey, possibly even better than—” I mock gasp “—Westly fucking Dalton, it suddenly became a competition I don’t think either of us wanted to play. Constant comparisons, all the questions about if I’d hoped Boston would draft me so I could play with my big brother. And when I was drafted to Buffalo, then there was speculation of which brother would come out on top. It’s like the world of hockey has been trying to pit us against each other from the beginning, and we played into it.”