I’d needed a few stitches, not nearly as many as Ian, and my scar wasn’t quite as straight or neat as his. But we were identical again.
But now things would never be okay. Killing Mandy had been bad. It was something I was never going to get over, never going to forgive myself for. I would never be free of this guilt. Ian might have forgiven me eventually, because we were brothers and it was an accident. But taking Jenna was deliberate, and there would be no forgiveness now. For either of us.
Time passed slowly when things were broken. I worked and ran more than ever, but nothing helped. As hard as I ran, I couldn’t escape. No matter what I did, I still felt empty. I didn’t need someone else to make me happy. I cared about Luke, but I didn’t need him to live. My life was going to go on without him. I was going to go to college and pick a career. I didn’t need Luke to do those things with me. I could do them by myself.
But I wanted him here. I wanted to stop waking up with a pain in my stomach and an ache in my chest. I longed to talk with him, because he listened and didn’t judge. Because he understood. With Luke, I was free to be me. I was going to get over him. I was going to move on. I just didn’t know how. And Ian wasn’t helping.
For the past three days, I’d woken up to roses. The first morning, it was one rose lying on the hood of my car with a note that simply said, “Ian.” The next morning, there had been two roses on the doorstep. I didn’t call Ian. I’d made too many mistakes already—I was going to do things right. He just needed some time. I hoped we could go back to being friends eventually. But he wasn’t being very patient.
Because when I got up on Friday, there were two dozen roses lying just outside my bedroom door. Each one had his name tied to it. My skin was cold. Ian had somehow gotten into the house without my mom or me knowing. I was furious. My house—especially my room—was my safe place, and I hated that Ian had made it feel unsafe. I was angry he’d violated that privacy. I thought I knew him better than that.
I dug my keys out of the bottom of Mom’s sock drawer. She was at work and wouldn’t even know I’d taken them. I threw the flowers in the passenger seat of the Bronco and headed over to Ian’s. We needed to talk. I pulled out of the driveway and prayed Luke wouldn’t be there. I didn’t know if I could keep it together if he was. Just thinking about him made me hurt.
I drove too fast. I hoped Solitude’s police force (all two of them) were eating breakfast somewhere and wouldn’t see me speeding through town. My knuckles were white as I gripped the steering wheel and bumped off the asphalt and onto gravel.
I tried to direct some of my anger toward Luke. Maybe if I hated him just a little, I could forget how it felt when he kissed me, the way his touch made my blood sing. But I couldn’t do either.
I slid to a stop in the McAlisters’ driveway and scooped the roses into my arms, ignoring the scratches from the thorns. The yard looked much better. Someone had cleaned out the flowerbeds that bordered the porch, and Pops’s roses were blooming again. I climbed the steps and banged on the door.
I expected Ian to answer. I found myself hoping that Luke might. I got Mrs. McAlister instead.
“Yes?” she asked. She looked tired. Not “it’s been a long day,” but more of an “it’s been a hard life.” I was just beginning to understand that kind of tired.
“Hi, Mrs. McAlister. It’s Jenna Oliver.” When she didn’t say anything, I added, “I met you the day you moved in. I brought a basket.” I didn’t think admitting to being the reason Ian and Luke weren’t speaking would be the best way to begin.
“Of course.” She gave me a faint smile.
“Um, is Ian here?”
Her eyes hardened, and she stared at the roses I was holding. I blushed. She pursed her lips and opened the door wider, stepping back to let me in.
I followed her to the kitchen, stopping as soon as I stepped through the doorway. It was absolutely amazing. Luke had completely transformed the room, turning it from broken to beautiful. It was warm and comfortable and smelled brand new. He had somehow managed to capture sunlight; it made me miss him even more.
“Are you Ian’s girlfriend?” Mrs. McAlister asked.
I blushed again. “No, we’re just friends.” She glanced at the flowers. She knew that was a lie. I felt stupid for bringing them. “Well,” I hurried to explain, “Ian and I hung out a while, and he’s very sweet, a good friend, but, um, Luke and I…” I couldn’t finish. Luke and I weren’t anything. And I was not going to tell this woman that I was in love with her son.
Mrs. McAlister made a noise like a trapped animal and went completely pale. She gripped the counter behind her.
“Are you okay?” She was scaring me. I dropped the roses on the kitchen table and went to her. “Mrs. McAlister?”
“I’m fine,” she said. She sat down at the table. When she didn’t say anything, I asked again if Ian was around. I just wanted to talk to him for a minute, and then I wanted out of there. Mrs. McAlister made me uncomfortable.
“Ian isn’t here,” she said finally.
“What about Luke?” It hurt to say his name. I knew he didn’t want to see me, but maybe, if I talked to him, he could try explaining things to Ian.
Mrs. McAlister’s lips were thin and white, and she lifted a shaking hand to her forehead. “Luke is dead.” Her voice was jagged and raw, and her words lacerated me.
There was a moment when I felt I was drowning. It was hard to breathe, and my ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton. Then I realized I must have heard her wrong. Because for a second, I thought she’d said Luke was dead. That was impossible.
“I’m sorry?” I asked.
“Luke’s dead,” she repeated. She sounded like she was trying to convince herself.
I realized I was shaking my head. People like Luke didn’t just die. It wasn’t possible. I mean, this was Solitude. If there’d been an accident or something, the whole town would have known. Luke couldn’t be dead. I’d just seen him a few days ago. Why would she tell me that? It wasn’t funny.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Most days it’s hard for me to believe, too,” she said.
“When?” I whispered. My throat felt like it was closing up, and there was a rushing in my ears. It couldn’t be true. Ian would have called me.
“A year ago.”
Why was she lying? I started to back out of the kitchen. She was crazy. “That’s not possible,” I argued. “I saw him a week ago.”
I kissed him underneath the fireworks
.
I kissed him by the lake as we watched the sun come up
.
She shook her head. She wasn’t crying, but that almost made it worse. She wouldn’t look at me, and her hands continued to shake. “You saw Ian pretending to be Luke. Luke died in a car crash last year.”
No. No no no no no no no no no no no. I knew Luke. He wasn’t Ian. He couldn’t be. He was Luke. She was all kinds of crazy, and I wasn’t going to believe her. I couldn’t believe her.
“The doctors say Ian has survivor’s guilt,” she said. Why was she still talking? “The crash—he hit his head. He hasn’t been the same. They call it a fugue state. They say he might get better.” Then she did look at me, and her eyes were so full of pain that I was the one who couldn’t look at her. “He just has to bury Luke.” Her last two words came out as a whisper—but they were a physical blow.
BuryLukeburyLukeburyLukeburyLuke
. It felt like the top of my head was peeling off. I couldn’t stand to be in that house one moment longer.
I turned to go, but Mrs. McAlister grabbed my arm. Her fingers dug in. “Ian doesn’t remember the accident. He doesn’t know Luke is gone.” Her voice cracked. “They were so close.”
I didn’t know what to say. How could Ian not know he was pretending to be his dead brother? The idea was absolutely absurd. I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t form any words.
“Ian has to remember the truth on his own. It’s one of the reasons we came here. There’s a doctor, Benson, who thinks he can help him. He’s going to try hypnosis next. But if we just come out and tell Ian, he could become even more damaged. He might never recover.”
She was pleading with me, like my silence could somehow save him. Or help him. Or my slipping up and telling him could ruin him forever. That was too much pressure. That was a secret too big for me to keep. I wished I could go back and unhear everything. I didn’t want to know this. It was better when Luke had just dumped me.
I nodded, agreeing to participate in a charade I couldn’t understand, then mumbled a weak apology as I stumbled out the door. I didn’t even remember the drive home. Five minutes after pulling into my driveway, I had on my running shoes and was sprinting into the trees. There was no way I was going to be able to outrun this, but I was sure as hell going to try.
But running wouldn’t save me. Nothing could. I was going crazy. I had to be. It was like someone had shoved thousands of bees into my head, all buzzing and stinging. I couldn’t focus. That was the good thing about running—I didn’t have to. I let my body take over, and I tried to shut down all competing thoughts. The way he smiled. The way his hands felt on my waist. His lips. It couldn’t be true. It wasn’t possible. Kissing Luke wasn’t anything like kissing Ian. Being with Luke didn’t resemble being with Ian in the least little bit. There was no way that Luke and Ian were the same person. There was no way that Luke was dead.
I stopped and screamed. I didn’t care who heard me—it was doubtful anyone did. I hit my fist against the closest thing, which happened to be a pecan tree. I was crying, but I didn’t even care. It wasn’t possible that the happiest moments in my life had been lies. There was no way Luke could be dead. That the boy who understood me so well didn’t even exist. How in the hell could Ian not know? This was so much bigger than I was capable of handling. I felt utterly destroyed.
I was screamed out. I gasped for air, wishing that I could hurt something. Tear something else apart besides myself. I wouldn’t have minded a little company here in hell.
I would have to be strong enough to deal with this. But I kept thinking of Luke as a separate person—it couldn’t be any other way. I still couldn’t make any sense out of it. Because there wasn’t really any sense to make.
I already missed him. I knew it was stupid. He didn’t exist. He was a figment of Ian’s imagination. The real Luke was dead. But it didn’t feel that way. It didn’t feel that way at all.
Pressure built behind my eyes, and my head and heart both ached. Jenna was still grounded, so I couldn’t call her or see her. I waited. I left flowers and hoped she was missing me at least half as much as I missed her. I was going to be late for my appointment with Dr.
Benson, but I didn’t care. He couldn’t help me anyway. I was too furious with Luke. He was the one person I’d always been able to go to when things fell apart. We’d weathered Dad’s storms together. He’d bloodied Brandon Hampton’s nose after Brandon had knocked me down on the playground. But Luke had separated me from everything that had ever meant something to me—Mandy, my family, and now Jenna. Luke was no longer something I wanted to fix.
I drove past the school. It was still early, and the football team, wearing shorts and helmets, was stretching in the wet grass. Dad wanted me on that team so badly. I must have loved football once, but somewhere in the loss of my memories, I’d lost the desire to play the game. Now it was only about making my dad proud and smoothing over the cracks that Luke’s irresponsibility had caused.
I should have taken a right and gone to Middleton. I shouldn’t have skipped the appointment. But I did. I was getting sick of trying to piece everything together when no one else even seemed to care. It was exhausting trying to be good enough to compensate for Luke’s bad. For once, I was going to be the irresponsible one.
I took a left and drove through town, ending up in an abandoned train yard I didn’t even know was there. The buildings were falling apart. I knew what that felt like.
I parked the truck and walked through the labyrinth of buildings and debris. This place was almost as big as Solitude itself. The door to one of the buildings had been wrenched off, and I stepped inside. It was dim, the light filtered through broken and grimy windows. A rusted lunchbox sat on a dusty table, like someone had just stepped away. I looked around, half expecting footsteps. But I was alone.
I sat in the shadows and tried to pull together everything I could about Mandy. I remembered her blonde hair and the way her laugh went up at the end. But I couldn’t remember how I’d felt about her. Had I loved her? Had I loved her before Luke ripped her away? I resented that he’d not only taken her from me, but that he’d stolen those memories of her as well.
But I could recall everything about Jenna. The way the sunlight caught her hair. The way her voice softened when she told stories. And maybe I didn’t love her—yet. But I cared about her, and Luke had taken her too. If piecing together my family included forgiving him, then I was pretty sure I was going to fail. Because I wasn’t ready to forgive. I didn’t know if I ever would be.
I sat in the damp building in the train yard and watched time pass. I didn’t want Mom to know I’d skipped my session with Dr. Benson. He’d tell her eventually, but for now there was freedom in making my own choices. I didn’t get to do that very often.
It felt like I was standing on the platform watching as, one by one, everything I cared about boarded a train out of my life. Dad, Jenna, Luke, even my memories. But I wasn’t giving up. I just had to figure out how to catch the next train.
Mom’s car was still in the driveway when I got home. She should’ve been at work. I parked next to the shop and headed in the house. I heard her before I even opened the door.
“Don’t talk to me like that, Scott. I’m doing the best I can. Things were going fine. Good, even. Dr. Benson said he was making progress.”
I stopped in the hall. She was talking to Dad. About me.
“I know you don’t believe it,” Mom snapped, “but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. Look, I panicked. She came by here, talking about Luke, and I told her the truth.”
Mom’s voice was shaking, and I could tell she was close to tears.