Dominic


The faces staring back at me from around my parents’ dining room table are covered in a myriad of emotions. Sadness, anger, confusion, grief, guilt.

My parents, Fiona, Duncan, Cris, Emma’s parents, and, of course, Sin and Jacey are all here so we can discuss what happened to Emma. What I did, what Emma did, what Emma and Sin did. It’s not an easy conversation, but it’s one that needs to be had.

What Jacey said once about Emma’s parents’ needing closure was true. While they hated to hear what happened with Sin, with me, with their daughter getting an abortion, they at least know now.

They have a reason for the suicide, something that makes sense.

“So you can blame me,” I finally tell them quietly. “Emma and Sin slipped up, but they were kids. I’m the one who pushed her to get an abortion. The blame rests on my shoulders.”

Mr. Brandt grips his own hands tightly, so tight that his fingers turn white. But he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at the table.

Mrs. Brandt looks at me with Emma’s bright blue eyes, and they’re filled with tears. I fight the urge to look away, but I don’t. I expect to see hate in them, but I don’t.

“Dominic, it’s not your fault. It’s a tragedy and you just have to let it go. You do.”

A lump forms in my throat for the millionth time this month, and I swallow hard against it. “We just thought you should know,” I tell her quietly. “The truth is always necessary for real closure. A smart person told me that once.”

I squeeze Jacey’s hand under the table.

Everyone talks to each other quietly, and while it’s uncomfortable, a part of me is relieved. Jacey was right. Getting things into the light makes it easier to deal with them. I tune out everyone’s low voices and stare out the window.

Down by the pond the tree house hangs, faded and old. My heart constricts just looking at it, thinking of all the time Emma and I spent in it. And of what she and Sin had done in it. I swallow hard and glance up to find my father looking at me.

“Dom, come with me for a minute. I want to show you something.”

I follow him out of the house, out to the barn, and stare at him in confusion as he hands me a large mallet.

“You want to show me a mallet?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Did you say that Sin and Emma… that they were together in the old tree house?” my dad asks quietly. I nod.

“It’s all well and good that Sin apologized. And you and I both know that he never meant to hurt you like he did. That’s well and good too. But as long as it’s standing, it’s gonna remind you of what happened. It’s gonna remind you of all kinds of ugliness. Go tear it down, son. Tear it all down and you’ll never have to look at it again.”

He hands me the mallet. I stare at him, the heavy mallet in my hands, and I know he’s right. Tearing that old thing down is going to feel good.

I head down to the pond and climb the old rickety ladder on the side of the tree. With my first swing, I smash a hole in the roof. After three more swings, the roof caves completely in. The walls follow. Then the floor.

By this time, my shoulders are on fire, my biceps ache. But I don’t stop swinging. Because my dad was right. I’m not just tearing down a tree house. I’m tearing a memory down. I don’t stop until it’s splintered into a million pieces and I’ve even torn the ladder off the tree trunk.

When I’m done, it’s all gone.

Every board, every bad memory is lying in a splintered pile in front of me. I’ll never have to look at it again.

I don’t know how it makes me feel better, but it does. With the tree house gone, the memory can start to fade too. I won’t pretend that it didn’t happen, but at least it won’t be so potent, so vivid. It won’t have the same power over me.

I turn to head back to the house and find Jacey sitting on the edge of the pond, her legs tucked under her. She’s watching me, concerned.

“Are you okay?” she asks when I draw nearer. I nod.

“Yeah. For the first time in a long time, I can say that I am… after I do one more thing.” I pull her up and drag her with me to the barn.

The old Nova is in the back corner, covered with a tarp. I pull off the tarp and stare at it. It’s got a few more scratches now than it used to, and there’s a crack in the windshield, but just looking at it brings back a thousand memories.

“I lost my virginity in this car,” I tell Jacey. “And Emma and I had our first kiss in it. Is that too much information?”

Jacey looks slightly pained, but shakes her head.

“She and I went on a million dates in this thing. It’s what I rode to her house in that night… that last night. My dad had to replace the floor mats because my shoes tracked so much blood into it. To be honest, I can’t look at it anymore. Come with me?”

Jacey doesn’t even ask where, she just nods and climbs into the dusty passenger seat.

I turn the key, and miraculously the battery is charged enough to start. “Brown Eyed Girl” floats from the radio, the familiar words filling my ears.

“I must’ve heard this song a million times,” I tell Jacey as I steer the old car down to the pond. “To tell you the truth, I’m sick of it.”

When we reach the edge of the water, I pull Emma’s pendant from my pocket, the stone cool between my fingers.

Closing my eyes, I picture her wearing it, how it used to lay just right on her chest. How it was the exact shade of her eyes.

I open my eyes and hang it on the rearview mirror.

And then I shift the car into neutral.

“Can you help me push?” I look at Jacey and her eyes widen in surprise, but she nods.

Together we push the old car filled with my memories into the lake.

It seems fitting. We stand and watch as the car sinks, bubbles erupting around it until it’s no longer visible. In my head, I imagine it sinking to the very bottom, where it will stay forever.

Jacey looks at me. “Will your dad be mad? That was a classic.”

I smile, just a little. “Nah. I’ll buy him another one. One that has a working tape deck.”

Even though the old car is gone, sunken in the water, I swear I can still hear that song. Do you remember when, we used to sing… sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-te-da…

Glancing over my shoulder, the pond seems quietly eerie, the last of the bubbles forming in the middle, the only evidence that it is the watery grave for my memories.

“Good-bye, Emma,” I murmur.

Jacey squeezes my hand and we walk for the house. As we wind along the old path, I pause, staring into Jacey’s brown eyes, eyes that contain such warmth and goodness.

“I love you,” I murmur to her, finally able to say the words. “I think I’ve known that for a while. I’m sorry that it’s taken so long for me to say it. I love you so fucking much.”

She smiles, a radiant white smile.

“All that matters is that you’re saying it now,” she says gently. “I love you too. I love you to the moon and back. You know that, right?”

I do.

“I want you to know that even though Emma was such a big part of my past, you are my future. You are my present. You’re everything, Jacey. I need you to know that. I love you more than anything, more than life itself.”

“I know,” she whispers softly, and I can see from her gentle expression that she does.

I pull her to me and kiss her, thorough and sweet and with just a hint of wild. It’s the way she deserves to be kissed… it’s everything she is. Sweet, with just a hint of wild.

There’s no ugliness here.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Jacey


One Month Later


My brother’s excited voice echoes into my ear loudly, and I hold the phone just a little bit away from my head.

“Elijah Gabriel Vincent. He’s eight pounds and three ounces and he’s beautiful, Jacey. He’s so fucking beautiful.”

I smile and congratulate my big brother, so happy to hear him so happy. There was a time when I didn’t think I’d see the day. But here it is. And he so deserves it.

“Brand just happened to be here for a meeting when Maddy’s water broke. You should’ve seen his face,” Gabe crows. “Oh my god. It was priceless. I thought he might pass out.”

I laugh. “I can imagine. Please tell him hello for me. I miss him. I haven’t seen him in a few weeks.”

Gabe sobers up. “You can tell him yourself. He’s right here.”

Before I can say anything, Gabe hands the phone to Brand and Brand sighs into it.

“Hey, Jacey.”

My heart squeezes. I hurt him. I hurt the most amazingly gentle badass on the planet.

“Hey, Brand,” I say brightly, forcing enthusiasm. “How are you?”

“Well, I’ve now seen amniotic fluid on the floor. I can cross that off my bucket list. And after hearing Maddy scream during labor, I don’t know how you women do it.”

I can practically see him shudder and I smile, imagining that he sat right outside of her delivery room, waiting to hear that everything was all right.

“Um. I’m sorry, Brand. For everything,” I say tentatively. Sorry is all I can think of to say. It’s what I feel… I just don’t know how to express it to him enough.

He sighs again.

“It’s okay. Don’t think anything else about it. This is my issue, not yours. I’ll get past it and things will be like they were, okay?”

He sounds tired and sad and I hate it. But I know him and I know he doesn’t want to dwell on it. So I nod.

“Okay. I want you to know that I love you. Not like you want me to love you, but I still love you.”