Page 77 of Let the Light Shine Through

“Unscathed?”

“Didn’t you?” If Roz was injured in the accident, he never told me about it.

“Physically, sure.” He scoffs, then he does that thing where his eyes shift left to right and back again. “I wish this was physical. Physical damage is visible. It’s comprehensible. It’s treatable. This shit has no form, no sound, no cure. It’s fucking killing me.”

“Do you want it to?”

“I—” His gulp echoes throughout the truck. “I did.”

I knew Roz was struggling to recover from his friend’s death, but I didn’t know to what extent. Not really. I had my theories but not facts. His appearance, his voice, his room—the signs were all there. I just didn’t know he was on the verge of…I don’t even know. Suicide? Would Roz really do that? Could he? It sounds like he absolutely could’ve.

I look down to find myself mindlessly ripping the stitching from my sweatshirt’s cuff. Companion Parrot. Domesticated Parrots can sometimes develop separation anxiety and will pick their own feathers when they’re separated from the person they’re most attached to.

“There may not be a cure,” I tell Roz, yanking my sleeves down over both hands until all my fingers are hidden inside. “Grief doesn’t just disappear, but relief is possible and it starts with a choice. A choice only you can make.”

Climbing over the center console, I straddle Roz’s lap, taking his unshaven jaw in my cotton-blend-covered palms.

“Please don’t go yet. I need you here still.”

His arms encase me, holding my body to his like a lifeline, but after a while, he whispers, “I don’t think that’s true.”

“I do,” I say just as softly before pulling back and looking him in the eye. “You’ve still got my Raptor.”

He cracks a smile, shaking his head. “Don’t forget I got the snacks, too.”

“I could never forget,” I mouth, my gaze locked on Roz’s lips.

“Gia—”

“Choose to stay. Choose to try. Choose to live, Roz. Your friend would’ve wanted you to.” I bring my eyes up to his. “I want you to.”

Roz should stay. This place, this mountain, is bringing up a lot of emotions for him, but if he doesn’t face them now, he might never try to again. If I have to compromise for that to happen, then so be it. There’s no growth without sacrifice and Roz has already sacrificed enough.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” I ask, and he nods.

As soon as we’re out of his truck, there’s a swarm of people gathering around to talk shop. Roz refuses to get farther than a few inches away from me, except to remove his shirt again when he decides he’s done with keeping up appearances—exactly five minutes into them.

Rowdy joins us sometime later, eyeballing the shirtless man glued to my side, but I shake my head, inconspicuously telling him to drop it. He does but only because he loves me as much as I love him. At the end of the day, this is my mistake to make, even if spending time with Roz doesn’t always feel like the mistake I know it is.

“G.” He grins.

“Rowdy, you remember Roz,” I say with the same grin.

“Hey, man, how’s it going?” Roz says to Rowdy, stepping forward to take my best friend’s hand.

Rowdy shakes it, telling him, “Welcome to Dysfunction Junction.”

Roz forces a chuckle. “Thanks for having me.”

“Need a hand unloading?”

Roz glances at me and I give him a nod before shooting a grateful look to Rowdy for not saying anything. Prolonging this charade might hurt Roz in the long run, but what if I can help him before then? What if the good outweighs the bad, only if just for a little while longer?

Lost in thought as I watch the guys work together, my fingers find my collarbone first, causally slipping over my shoulder to feel for the scab that seems to be taking forever to heal.

Rowdy’s eyes pierce mine, and I drop my hand, pasting on a wide smile as I approach the back end of Roz’s truck.