Page 56 of Grief & Glitter
Noah rubbed his thumb over the cuff of his sweatshirt. “I don’t know what Gid wants me to do.” I went still. Dad looked at him. Noah kept staring at his hands. “I keep saying sorry, and I don’t know if it’s doing anything.”
Noah looked at me. “What can I say to fix this?”
“How am I supposed to know?”
“You need to tell me,” he almost pleaded.
“I don’t know!” My voice bounced off the walls. Nobody spoke. I pressed my palms against my thighs. “I don’t know,” I said again, quieter. “That’s the problem. You ask me to tell you how to fix it, and I don’t know how.”
He swallowed. “I can’t take back what happened. I can’t go back there and fix my fucked up brain.”
“No.”
“I can’t give you those years back.”
“No.”
He hunched in the chair, covering his eyes. “I c…can’t bring Ethan back.”
I looked at him. Really looked at him. At the brother I’d thought hated me. The brother I’d missed. The brother I blamed for blaming me. The brother who’d nearly died because while I’d been carrying the guilt he’d given me, he’d been carrying his own.
“I don’t know yet.” His face crumpled. “But you stay alive while we work it out.”
Noah dropped his gaze. “Okay.”
“No more messages where you say sorry and then you try to leave.” His breath hitched. “No more, I’m sorry, Gid. I can’t keep doing this.”
Dad covered his mouth. Noah’s tears spilled over.
“I mean it,” I said. “Please, Noah, if you get that bad again, you call someone. Dad. Me. Here. Emergency services. I don’t care. You call. And I’ll talk for six fucking hours when I’m driving here.”
“Gideon—”
“Noah.” I rubbed my palms over my jeans. “I’ll answer,” I repeated. “I can’t promise I’ll always know what to say, but I’ll answer.”
His mouth trembled. “Okay.”
Dr. Patel let the silence sit between us for a while, then she said, “Gideon, what responsibility do you believe you have for Ethan’s death now?”
I stared at her. We’d been doing so well. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
I leaned back. Dad looked down. Noah went very still.
“I didn’t dare him.”
“No.”
“I didn’t know about the dare.”
“No.”
“I tried to get him off the ice.”
“Yes.”
“I nearly went through myself.”
