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I dropped into a cross-legged seat, ignoring the damp grass soaking through my pants, and ran my fingers along the cool marble inlay.
“Hi, brother.” I whispered, even though there was no one around to hear me.
I had always thought whispers traveled to the other side better than shouting.
My phone buzzed and I jumped. “It’s only Sebastian,” I assured the headstone. Part of me imagined my older brother was just as protective of me in the afterlife as he had been while he was alive.
Sebastian: How good was the promotion??
My fingers hesitated over the screen until I slid my phone away. Out of sight, out of mind.
My brother’s headstone shone up at me, and my stomach flipped. “I’ll tell him tonight, okay Rob?”
Sebastian Bardot. The world’s best friend. He had been Rob’s best friend from kindergarten until the date chiseled in front of me. Exactly three years ago, today.
Growing up, I had always dreamed of having Sebastian all to myself. He was the only one of Rob’s friends that paid any attention to me when he came over and I hated it when Rob would drag him to the backyard to shoot hoops.
Now I would give anything to sit inside, stewing about my brother stealing Sebastian. I had Sebastian all to myself, along with a hefty dose of grief and a burning side of guilt.
Rob’s death had rocked my entire family. It was sudden and unexpected. His heart had failed him, something that I thought only happened to older people or people who let their bodies fall apart. Not young, healthy guys who ran every morning and played every sport imaginable.
It had nothing to do with his lifestyle and everything to do with the heart he had been given for this life. It was inevitable and happened in an instant.
Sometimes I hated that he left without even knowing. He didn’t have to deal with our parents’ shutdown. He didn’t have to know what this world felt like without someone he loved in it.
For all he knew, he had a fun night playing disc golf with Sebastian and a few other guys, followed by a gourmet meal from Sebastian and a round of cards between the three of us.
Then he went to bed and didn’t wake up.
A little over three years ago—not long before Rob died—I had moved in with him and Sebastian, citing its closer proximity to the college as my reason. In reality, it only saved me about two minutes in each direction. The real reason was named Sebastian. I had a chance to live with my biggest crush and I took it.
And then Rob died.
But Sebastian didn’t kick me out.
Instead, we became each other’s support system. My parents weren’t there for me. I couldn’t blame them. They were wrapped up in their own grief. Sebastian was as close to Rob as any brother. He was the only person who understood my pain.
My crush on him was shelved as we pieced ourselves back together and found a new normal without Rob.
Life moved on, despite our desire to stay in the past where Rob still existed. I got the job at Blue Visor, and Sebastian became the personal chef and nutritionist for the Vancouver Evergreens—Southwest Washington State’s premier hockey team.
While they had an incredible roster of talented players and had made it to the playoffs almost every year since they formed, they were most known for the number of times they had to say “No, not that Vancouver” and “No, not that Washington”.
Our jobs kept us busy, but whenever we weren’t working, we were together. And as we healed, Sebastian and I developed an airtight friendship. Things changed and evolved between us, and I never had the nerve to tell him how I felt.
And then I met Bryce.
I choked on a sob and apologized to Rob’s headstone. “You would have hated Bryce.”
I should never have given him the time of day, but I had met him when I was late for work one morning. I actually convinced myself that fate had brought us together and that divine intervention had made me sleep through my alarm.
Divine intervention.
I scoffed and picked at a weed that was trying to take root around the concrete that framed the marble.
“Where was divine intervention this morning?”
I lost my job and found my boyfriend in bed with another woman all before eight on the anniversary of the worst day of my life.
