Page 275 of Silver Sweet

Ben isn’t in a closet, a bathroom, under the sink—because my six-five hockey player brother hiding there islogical.

I wake up Eliot. I wake up Charlie. I wake up Beckett. Very thankful none of my brothers brought any girls home tonight.

“Have you called Harriet?” Beckett is pulling on cotton pants.

“I’ve tried. Eliot has tried,” I tell him, a knot forming in my ribcage. “She’s not answering.”

“She’s probably asleep,” Eliot theorizes.

Charlie jerks his arms through a V-neck sweater as he leaves. He’s going to check downstairs. The eighteenth floor. Ben is friends with Xander Hale. He could be in our cousin’s apartment.

Turns out, he’s not with the Hales.

Turns out, he’s missing.

My little brother is missing again. It slams into me like a freight train when I find Ben’s phone on the kitchen counter.

He left his phone behind.Just like he did when he left for Alaska. When he hoped to never be found. When he tried to save us from himself.

It’s happening again. I’m going to lose my brother.

I’ve already lost him.

He’s nothere.

Bile scalds my throat, and the sensation of being punched in the chest has me heaving for air. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.

I hear my brothers on their phones like an echo in a faraway tunnel.

I’m wandering quietly back to my bedroom. Ben’s bedroom.

Our bedroom.

Phoenix is still sound asleep, and I quietly shift the privacy curtain along the track. And I reach Ben’s side of the room.

He’s gone. He’s really gone this time. My eyes burn as I rotate my head and see my tenderhearted little brother in everything.

His elephant ear plant has grown five feet tall since he’s been here. His hockey trophy sits on an Ecology textbook. His sticker-decaled water bottle, the blue one he brings everywhere, keeps his stuffed lion company on his nightstand.

I look up and go still at the sight of the oil painting.The Arcadian.Lush green hills, trees, people dancing—an earth uncorrupted by man.

I’m pummeled backward. My calves hit the frame of his bed.

And then big white wings come flying toward me from the window perch. Ben’s bird settles on my shoulder and head-butts my cheek. He shifts his little feet excitedly, and he chirps, “My home, my home, my home.”

Pain radiates through my chest, and my legs give out. I slide down the side of Ben’s bed, sitting on the floor, and I call out, “Ph…” I can’t breathe. “Phoenix.” I struggle for air.

But that’s all it takes to wake him.

“Tom?” Phoenix rushes toward me, stepping into his boxer-briefs and lifting the elastic band to his waist. “Hey? Talk to me.”

“He’s…he’s gone. Ben is gone.” A hot silent tear rolls down my cheek. Phoenix sits beside me so quickly. He grips my jaw, staring into the deep pools of hurt in my eyes. I see it reflect in his.

My face crushes with this unbearable agony. I can’t…I can’t take it. I don’t want to bear it alone, but I don’t even know if I’m able to give it away.

“Tom,” he breathes.

I’m shaking my head at him, my eyes drifting all around me. Ben’s things. Our room. I’ve been his roommate. “I’ve…I’ve been a good roommate…haven’t I?” My voice cracks, and a sob rips out of me, jostling me with anguish. I pinch my wet eyes.