Eyes just like Lily’s.
“You selfish bitch,” I mutter and make myself look away. “You’ve wrecked everything.”
On the way to the funeral home, none of us say a word to each other. The closer we get, the more I don’t mind the silence. Maybe quietness, solitude, is what I need to make it through today.
I sit on the front row with my parents, unable to cry or breathe or think clearly as, one-by-one, people who knew my sister—who adored her—tell us how sorry they are for our loss.
There’s her overachieving snob of a best friend, Kendra. Tyler, the boy who broke Lily’s heart a year ago; the same one who tried, unsuccessfully, for the last eight months to win her back. There are teachers and teammates and her closest friends and those who knew her in passing. There’s my own boyfriend, James. When he walks past, he stops for a moment to give my hand a reassuring squeeze, but I don’t say anything to him.
I don’t trust my words.
So I watch in stunned silence. There are so many people I don’t personally know that I barely notice the tall man who stops to talk to my parents. He’s speaking in a hushed voice, but the moment, “Rhys. Owen Delane is my brother,” tumbles from his lips, my horrified gaze snaps up. I don’t see very much of him through the sudden haze of tears, but I listen to every word, each one catching my breath.
“...so sorry for what happened. For what this has done to your—”
Before he can finish, my mother—who’s never physically disciplined me a day in my life, the same woman who hasn’t been able to look me in the eye since we received the news about Lily—is on her feet, her eyes meeting his as she swings her hand roughly across his face.
The slap sends a jolt through my body. Like everyone else, I’m frozen in my seat, shocked at the harsh exchange playing out before my eyes.
“What gives you the right to think you can come here?” Mom demands, shrugging off my dad who stands and tries to take her by the shoulders. “Will it help you sleep better at night? Do you think I give a shit if you or your brother is sorry?” With every word, her volume rises, until she’s practically screaming.
Every emotion that Delane is feeling passes over his tan face, and I can’t help but feel for him, the brother of the man who killed my sister. Driving my eyes down long enough for me to catch my breath, I dig my fingers into the pew beneath me. What happened to Lily wasn’t this man’s fault. Mom must know that. But the more I try to reason with myself, the more bitter I feel , the more tightly the knots threading through my ribcage pull.
It’s not his fault, I silently yell at myself.
When I look back up, Delane’s back is straight, and his expression is unreadable. His eyes sweep over me for a brief moment, just long enough for him to give me an earnest nod, and then he turns on his heel and walks away. I know every head inside the funeral home is turned on him, so I look at my mother instead.
Dad has pulled her back down on the bench beside him, and she buries her face in the crook of his neck, sobbing uncontrollably. He looks ahead—quiet and tearless—his gaze zeroed in on the white casket that’s not even ten feet away. Behind us, I know there’s more crying and hushed whispers because my mom just decked a guy, but there’s a blaring in my ears that tunes it all out.
And then I’m on my feet, looking down at my parents with wide eyes that burn at the corners. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, finally breaking my silence.
I don’t fully realize that I’ve left the building until the brisk fall air hits my face. It, combined with the tears that have begun to fall, stings my cheeks. As soon as my foot touches the bottom step, a hand clamps down on my shoulder. I half-expect it to be my father, but when I spin around, I’m staring in to Kendra’s dark brown eyes.
In spite of everything she must be going through herself, her jet-black eyebrows are pulled together in concern for me. I’ve been nothing but a bitch to this girl since she and my sister became friends, but now she’s looking at me like I’ll break at any moment.
Kendra presses her lips together for a moment and then releases a breath. “Evie ... where are you going?”
The sad reality is, I don’t know.
“Oh God,” I whisper. “I’ve fucked everything up.” Before I can murmur another word, her arms are around me, drawing a gasp and a guttural sob from the back of my throat. I drop my head against her shoulder. “I don’t even have the—”
“Shut up,” she orders in a calm voice as she holds me even tighter. “Shut up and stop trying to do this on your own. You shouldn’t.” She releases me, takes a step back, and braces herself. “I don’t want to do it on my own either, okay? If you want to walk, I’ll go with you. If you want to talk, I’ll do that too. But it’s better if you go back inside. Here—” She sits on the bottom step—“I’ll stay with you until you’re ready.”
For the next ten minutes, she and I sit together on that bottom step. We say nothing—I’m almost certain neither of us manages more than a few breaths—but she doesn’t leave and neither do I. Finally, at the sound of Lily’s favorite Regina Spektor song that I’d suggested we use for the slideshow, Kendra stands and jerks her head to the front door.
“Hey, Evie?” she whispers tearfully. “We can help each other, okay?”
Nodding, I stumble to my feet, brushing my palms over my black skirt to dust off any dirt. But as I go back inside and take my spot beside my parents, letting a song about not saying goodbye blaze through my brain, I can’t help but wonder what Owen Delane’s brother would have said if he’d been able to finish speaking.
Chapter Three
Now
“Rhys Delane is my academic advisor’s assistant,” I gasp into the phone the second Kendra returns my call. The moment I broke free of Professor Cameron’s office five minutes ago, I made a hasty beeline to the exit to avoid coming in contact with Rhys again. I’d dialed Kendra’s number as I raced out of the building. The call went straight to her voicemail, but she quickly called back as I was leaving her a message.
“Kendra,” I hiss frantically, “Rhys Delane is at this college!”
“Um—” she starts, but I rush on.
“Professor Cameron wants him to give me extra lessons this semester, but I can’t.” Taking in a shallow breath, I stop in the courtyard and sink down on the short brick wall surrounding it. “I don’t know if I can be around him after everything that happened.”
“Wait—back up just a little and calm down, okay?” she sighs. “Who are we talking about?”
Taking her advice, I give myself a few seconds to catch my breath. “Rhys Delane, Owen Delane’s brother. The guy who ... the reason why Lily’s gone.”
She’s quiet for a long pause until she finally asks, “Are you sure it’s him?”
“Yes.” I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.
“Oh, Evie,” she whispers. Now, it’s her turn to drag in a few breaths. “I’m so sorry. Did you ... did you tell him who you are? Or did he figure it out, or—?”
“No. I didn’t tell him. He didn’t figure it out. I mean, Miller’s such a common last name.” Not like Delane, a surname name that I’ve only heard twice—once with Owen and now with his brother. My hand trembles when I switch the phone to my other ear, nearly dropping it on the hard ground below because my palms are sweaty.
“What do I do?” I ask.
Kendra is momentarily silent, as if she’s going over all the possible solutions in her head. Finally, she evenly tells me, “Go back to your advisor and tell her you don’t think private lessons with him are going to work out. Just be honest. Trust me, it’s better that you are.” She sucks in a breath. “Unless you think you can handle being around him. And if that’s something you want to do, you need to come right out and tell him who you are. Again, it’s—”