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Michael was dead.
Waves of sorrow crashed over me as Kaleb leaned forward in the chair, reaching out his hand. “This has to stop. Come here.”
“Why?”
“Just … Just come over here.”
I sat up on the edge of the bed to argue with him, my muscles aching and tense with anxiety. He caught me off guard, taking my hand and maneuvering me onto his lap.
“What are you doing?” Surely he wasn’t making a move on me. A hysterical bubble of laughter threatened to escape from my throat. Everything that had happened in the past few hours was ridiculously surreal.
“Not what you think.” He slid me away from his chest toward his knees so that I stayed on his lap, but barely. Leaning his head toward mine, he said, “Look at me. Emerson, look in my eyes.”
I gave in.
The second I did, the pain began to disappear in a vacuum, both the physical and the emotional. A roaring sound filled my ears, and I couldn’t see anything but the deep blue of Kaleb’s eyes. I unconsciously leaned in, pressing my face to his, our mouths so close we were breathing the same air.
The relief was enough to make oxygen bearable. I took the comfort from him for a moment before I realized what was happening. Once I did, I jerked away, pushing myself off his lap to land on the floor in front of him, my muscles bunching in spasms. The room went eerily silent.
“What did you just do?” I said, gasping for breath.
His eyes were full of agony, his voice bleak. He sounded like he was in physical pain. “Tried to help you. Taking some of your emotions.”
“How long have you been able to do that?”
He shook his head. “As long as I can remember. Sometimes it doesn’t work, though. It didn’t with my mom, when I tried to help her. But I can help you.”
I wanted to lean on him, find comfort in his embrace. Kaleb would do his dead level best to give me whatever I wanted. I knew it. All I had to do was ask.
The ache that had disappeared reformed in my chest and moved up to my throat. “I can’t let you take on my hurt when you have more than enough of your own. The two of you fought like brothers. I know you loved each other like brothers, too.”
Kaleb stood, and once again I was taken aback by the sheer size of him. “I know you did this—at least in part—for me. To keep me from going through everything you went through when you lost your parents. Now here you are, hurting more than you were before. I know, because I couldn’t block out your emotions if I tried.”
I bit down on my bottom lip. I would not cry. Crying could wait until I was alone. I would not cry. The tears formed and I fought not to blink, knowing if one tiny wet drop escaped, the battle would be over.
I lost.
My world, which I was struggling to hold up on my own, crashed down around me into so many pieces. I had to lean on a chair leg to keep myself upright. I watched my pain flash across Kaleb’s face, finally hiding mine in my hands so I wouldn’t have to see any more.
He dropped down beside me, pulling me into his arms and rocking me back and forth as I let the tears come, keeping my eyes closed, refusing to watch him share my grief. I remembered the way it felt to be in Michael’s arms the night I told him about losing my parents. He’d rocked me to comfort me, too. The memory only made me cry harder. Kaleb stroked my hair and pressed his lips to my temple.
“It can’t be true. Michael has to come back. This has to be a mistake.” My tears had a mind of their own. No matter how hard I fought against them, they kept forming and slipping down my cheeks.
“I could make it better if you would just let me.”
“I won’t,” I said. “Not that way. I’m not putting you through more pain just to spare myself.”
“Even if I want to?” he asked softly.
I shook my head.
“He cared about you. It felt a lot like he loved you.”
My sobs caught in my chest. “He never said it.”
“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t true.”
“Maybe.”
