Page 124 of Tragic (Lark Cove 3)

“Then I killed her.”

“It was an accident,” Mom corrected. “A tragic accident.”

“No, Mom. I killed them.” Isaiah’s shoulders collapsed. “I killed them, and I have to live with that.”

It wasn’t just me who’d lived these last three years in pain and anguish. One stupid mistake had cost us all.

I’d escaped to my mountain and found the beautiful woman at my side. I was getting a second chance to be a father and to live with the love of my life.

But Shannon was gone. Isaiah wouldn’t get a second chance.

No punishment I could ever deliver would be worse than the one he was inflicting upon himself.

As I looked into his eyes, the ones with the same colors as my own and Mom’s, the hatred I had for Isaiah disappeared.

“It was an accident.”

He shook his head. “No. I shouldn’t have had those beers. I wasn’t paying attention. I leaned over to kiss her and the next thing I knew, we were flying. Then they were dead.”

“Isai—”

“I killed them. I killed Shannon. I killed your daughter.” His words physically hurt to hear. “You deserve to hit me as many times as you want. I fucking hate me too.”

Hearing the self-loathing in his voice struck a nerve. The agony on his face was too much to bear. I stood from the couch and crossed the room. Mom shot up too, standing guard, but I sent her a look asking for some trust.

Isaiah watched me with wide eyes as I hauled him out of the recliner by his sweatshirt. And just like Piper had done with me so many times, I hugged him.

I hugged the five-year-old boy who fell off his bike and scraped the shit out of his knee, all because he’d been trying to keep up with me and my friends as we’d peddled around the neighborhood.

I hugged the ten-year-old kid who’d begged me to help him practice fielding grounders before a baseball game.

I hugged my brother, the one who’d always looked at me like I was his Superman.

Isaiah collapsed into my chest, gripping the back of my sweater as he broke down. He cried in my arms, sobbing his apology over and over again.

I clung to him, holding him upright. Because that was my job. I was his big brother. I was supposed to be there for him. Despite everything, the pain and hurt, he needed me.

I’d been so lost these last three years. I realized as I held Isaiah, so much of my floundering was because I’d missed him. I’d missed our family. Me and Mom and Isaiah had always leaned on one another. Without them, I’d just been drifting—until a beautiful woman came into my world and saved it with her magic cake.

I glanced behind me at Piper. She swiped a tear with the back of her hand and wiped her nose dry as she sniffled.

Would things have been different if Isaiah and I had talked years ago? Probably not. After the accident, I’d been in too much pain to listen to anyone. The only thing I could do to keep on living was to block it out. To run and deal with the grief alone. To be numb.

Then Piper had made me feel again.

It took a while for Isaiah to get his emotions under control. Even then, I suspected it was only temporary. For all the pain I felt, it had dulled these last few months. But for Isaiah, it seemed as fresh as it had been the night of the accident.

I let him go and he sank down in the chair. Mom’s hand went right back on top of his, and as I sat by Piper’s side on the couch, I realized why Mom had chosen him.

It wasn’t about choosing at all. It was about loving us both.

Isaiah had made the worst kind of mistake. The type that had forever changed the course of his life.

Maybe Mom had known I’d recover. Maybe she’d known I had the strength to move past it all. Maybe she’d known Isaiah needed all she had to pull through.

Maybe if I let go of my anger toward them, we’d all make it through.

“Breakfast tomorrow? Perkins?” It was Isaiah’s favorite from when we were kids.