Beautifully Broken 3: Before We Fall
Page 47Sin swallows, then nods. “I figured. But I take no for an answer as well as you do. Dom, this shit happened six years ago. Think of everything that happened over the past six years. Now think of who has been with you that whole time. Me. I swear on my life that I will never f**k up like that again.”
Dom sighs, rubbing his face, then looking up at his brother. “I know. I know, Sin.”
I exhale the breath I’d been holding, and Sin stares at him.
“You know?”
Dom nods. “Yeah. I know. I’m still pissed at you, but I know.”
Sin stares at him hesitantly. “When you say you know, what do you mean?”
Dominic sighs. “I know that it was one night. You were both drunk and she wasn’t thinking clearly. You were nineteen and you were thinking with your cock. You didn’t know she got pregnant. You didn’t know that I made her get an abortion. You didn’t know any of it. It was a huge, f**ked-up mess, but I can’t dwell on it any longer. I’ll get over it. I’m not over it yet, but I’ll get over it.”
“You will?” Sin sounds hopeful, yet nervous. Dom nods.
“Yeah. Eventually. I can’t believe you f**king did it, but I’ll try to get over it. We’re brothers, and I know you’d never do it now. Right?”
Sin immediately shakes his head. “Fuck no. I’ve grown up, Dom. I would never try to take what’s yours. I didn’t try to take what was yours then, I was just too young and stupid to rein in my hormones. I won’t make that same mistake twice.”
Sin lifts Dom to his feet and pulls him into a hug. He practically clings to Dom as he murmurs into Dom’s hair.
“I didn’t know, dude. I swear to Christ I didn’t know that I was to blame for f**king you up. I swear to Christ. If I knew, I would’ve told you long ago.”
Dom doesn’t respond for a minute, but then wraps his arms around his brother, hugging him back. He’s reluctant, but it’s still a hug. It’s something.
“I’m sorry, man,” Sin tells him again, and I can honestly hear the sadness in his voice. “You know I loved Emma… but not like that. That night was just a mistake. Neither of us meant it.”
“I know,” Dominic nods. “I know.”
I can see from his face that he means it. He does know. And that’s a far cry from the Dominic that I saw two days ago. As we wind our way out to the veranda, I turn to him.
“That must’ve been some sleep you had.”
He smiles ever so slightly. “I don’t think I’ve slept a full night since Emma died. So, yeah. It was pretty good. I’m thinking more clearly now.”
Sin stops and turns to Dom, his dark blue eyes unsure. “Dom. I didn’t come alone. Cris is in the car. He’s in a bad way. Can you talk to him?”
I freeze, watching Dom. He knows that Cris was trying to protect his relationship with Sin, but knowing it and knowing it are two different things, because he also knows that Cris could’ve spoken up years ago.
“Fine,” Dom sighs. “I’m going to have to someday. It might as well be now.”
“Do you think they’re okay?” I ask Sin nervously. He eyes them, glancing at the way they’re angled toward each other, still talking.
“Well, there’s no blood yet, so that’s a good sign.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, that’s helpful.”
They’re in there for what seems like forever, and when they come out, they’re both quiet.
“We have to do something,” Dom says to me, his voice serious and dark. “We all have to do something so that we get closure. But to do it, we need to go home.”
We’re on the jet within an hour.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Dominic
The faces staring back at me from around my parents’ dining room table are covered in a myriad of emotions. Sadness, anger, confusion, grief, guilt.
My parents, Fiona, Duncan, Cris, Emma’s parents, and, of course, Sin and Jacey are all here so we can discuss what happened to Emma. What I did, what Emma did, what Emma and Sin did. It’s not an easy conversation, but it’s one that needs to be had.
What Jacey said once about Emma’s parents’ needing closure was true. While they hated to hear what happened with Sin, with me, with their daughter getting an abortion, they at least know now.
They have a reason for the suicide, something that makes sense.
“So you can blame me,” I finally tell them quietly. “Emma and Sin slipped up, but they were kids. I’m the one who pushed her to get an abortion. The blame rests on my shoulders.”
Mr. Brandt grips his own hands tightly, so tight that his fingers turn white. But he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at the table.
Mrs. Brandt looks at me with Emma’s bright blue eyes, and they’re filled with tears. I fight the urge to look away, but I don’t. I expect to see hate in them, but I don’t.
“Dominic, it’s not your fault. It’s a tragedy and you just have to let it go. You do.”
A lump forms in my throat for the millionth time this month, and I swallow hard against it. “We just thought you should know,” I tell her quietly. “The truth is always necessary for real closure. A smart person told me that once.”
I squeeze Jacey’s hand under the table.
Everyone talks to each other quietly, and while it’s uncomfortable, a part of me is relieved. Jacey was right. Getting things into the light makes it easier to deal with them. I tune out everyone’s low voices and stare out the window.
Down by the pond the tree house hangs, faded and old. My heart constricts just looking at it, thinking of all the time Emma and I spent in it. And of what she and Sin had done in it. I swallow hard and glance up to find my father looking at me.
I follow him out of the house, out to the barn, and stare at him in confusion as he hands me a large mallet.
“You want to show me a mallet?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Did you say that Sin and Emma… that they were together in the old tree house?” my dad asks quietly. I nod.
“It’s all well and good that Sin apologized. And you and I both know that he never meant to hurt you like he did. That’s well and good too. But as long as it’s standing, it’s gonna remind you of what happened. It’s gonna remind you of all kinds of ugliness. Go tear it down, son. Tear it all down and you’ll never have to look at it again.”
He hands me the mallet. I stare at him, the heavy mallet in my hands, and I know he’s right. Tearing that old thing down is going to feel good.
I head down to the pond and climb the old rickety ladder on the side of the tree. With my first swing, I smash a hole in the roof. After three more swings, the roof caves completely in. The walls follow. Then the floor.
By this time, my shoulders are on fire, my biceps ache. But I don’t stop swinging. Because my dad was right. I’m not just tearing down a tree house. I’m tearing a memory down. I don’t stop until it’s splintered into a million pieces and I’ve even torn the ladder off the tree trunk.
When I’m done, it’s all gone.
Every board, every bad memory is lying in a splintered pile in front of me. I’ll never have to look at it again.
I don’t know how it makes me feel better, but it does. With the tree house gone, the memory can start to fade too. I won’t pretend that it didn’t happen, but at least it won’t be so potent, so vivid. It won’t have the same power over me.
I turn to head back to the house and find Jacey sitting on the edge of the pond, her legs tucked under her. She’s watching me, concerned.
“Are you okay?” she asks when I draw nearer. I nod.
“Yeah. For the first time in a long time, I can say that I am… after I do one more thing.” I pull her up and drag her with me to the barn.
The old Nova is in the back corner, covered with a tarp. I pull off the tarp and stare at it. It’s got a few more scratches now than it used to, and there’s a crack in the windshield, but just looking at it brings back a thousand memories.
“I lost my virginity in this car,” I tell Jacey. “And Emma and I had our first kiss in it. Is that too much information?”
Jacey looks slightly pained, but shakes her head.
“She and I went on a million dates in this thing. It’s what I rode to her house in that night… that last night. My dad had to replace the floor mats because my shoes tracked so much blood into it. To be honest, I can’t look at it anymore. Come with me?”
Jacey doesn’t even ask where, she just nods and climbs into the dusty passenger seat.
I turn the key, and miraculously the battery is charged enough to start. “Brown Eyed Girl” floats from the radio, the familiar words filling my ears.
“I must’ve heard this song a million times,” I tell Jacey as I steer the old car down to the pond. “To tell you the truth, I’m sick of it.”
Closing my eyes, I picture her wearing it, how it used to lay just right on her chest. How it was the exact shade of her eyes.
I open my eyes and hang it on the rearview mirror.
And then I shift the car into neutral.
“Can you help me push?” I look at Jacey and her eyes widen in surprise, but she nods.
Together we push the old car filled with my memories into the lake.
It seems fitting. We stand and watch as the car sinks, bubbles erupting around it until it’s no longer visible. In my head, I imagine it sinking to the very bottom, where it will stay forever.
Jacey looks at me. “Will your dad be mad? That was a classic.”
I smile, just a little. “Nah. I’ll buy him another one. One that has a working tape deck.”
Even though the old car is gone, sunken in the water, I swear I can still hear that song. Do you remember when, we used to sing… sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-te-da…
Glancing over my shoulder, the pond seems quietly eerie, the last of the bubbles forming in the middle, the only evidence that it is the watery grave for my memories.
“Good-bye, Emma,” I murmur.
Jacey squeezes my hand and we walk for the house. As we wind along the old path, I pause, staring into Jacey’s brown eyes, eyes that contain such warmth and goodness.
“I love you,” I murmur to her, finally able to say the words. “I think I’ve known that for a while. I’m sorry that it’s taken so long for me to say it. I love you so f**king much.”
She smiles, a radiant white smile.
“All that matters is that you’re saying it now,” she says gently. “I love you too. I love you to the moon and back. You know that, right?”
I do.
“I want you to know that even though Emma was such a big part of my past, you are my future. You are my present. You’re everything, Jacey. I need you to know that. I love you more than anything, more than life itself.”