November 9

  "Nine weeks," she says. "Two weeks ahead of Jordyn." She glances up at me, pulling the lid off another container. "How is she?"

  I take a seat at the bar, releasing a deep breath as I do. "Not good. I can't get her to eat anything. She won't even leave her room."

  "Is she asleep?"

  "I hope. Her mother flew in last night, but Jordyn doesn't want to interact with her, either. I was hoping she'd be able to help."

  Tate nods, but I notice her wipe at a tear when she turns around. "I can't imagine what she's going through," she says in a whisper.

  I can't, either. And I don't want to try. There's too much that needs to be done before Kyle's funeral for me to get caught up in what the hell is going to happen to Jordyn and their baby.

  I walk to Ian's room and knock on his door. When I enter, he's pulling a different shirt over his head. His eyes are red and he swipes at them quickly before bending to put on his shoes. I pretend I don't notice he's been crying.

  "You ready?" I ask him. He nods and follows me out the door.

  He's been taking this really hard, as he should. But it's just one more reason why I can't let this break me. Not yet. Because right now I'm the only one holding us all together.

  A few days ago, I assumed I'd be spending today with Fallon in New York. I never imagined I'd be spending it at a funeral home, picking out a casket for the one person in this world who knew me better than anyone.

  *

  "What do you plan to do with the house?" my uncle asks. He pulls a beer from the refrigerator. As soon as he closes the door, he opens it again and takes out a casserole dish. He lifts the corner of it and sniffs it, then shrugs and grabs a fork from a nearby drawer.

  "What do you mean?" I ask, just as he shoves a spoonful of chilled noodles in his mouth.

  He waves the fork around the room. "The house," he says with a mouthful. He swallows and stabs at the casserole again. "I'm sure Jordyn will move back to Nevada with her mother. Are you just gonna stay here by yourself?"

  I hadn't thought about it, but he's right. It's a big house, and I doubt I'll want to stay here by myself. But the thought of selling it fills me with dread. I've lived in this house since I was fourteen. And I know my mother is gone, but she would never want us to sell this house. She even said so herself.

  "I don't know. I haven't really thought about it."

  He pops the lid on his beer. "Well if you plan to sell it, make sure you let me list it. I can get you a great price."

  My aunt speaks up from behind me. "Seriously, Anthony? Don't you think it's a little too soon?" She looks at me. "I'm sorry, Ben. Your uncle is an asshole."

  Now that she brought it up, I guess it is in poor taste to be discussing this with me just ten minutes after they show up.

  I've lost count of who all is at my house right now. It's almost seven in the evening and at least five cousins have stopped by. Two sets of aunts and uncles have brought us casserole dishes and Ian and Miles are on the porch out back. Tate is still running around the house cleaning, despite Miles's desperate pleas for her to rest. And Jordyn . . . well. She still hasn't left her bedroom.

  "Ben, come here!" Ian yells from outside. I gladly escape the conversation with my uncle and open the screen door. Ian and Miles are both sitting on the porch steps, staring out over the backyard.

  "What?"

  Ian turns around. "Did you contact his old job and let them know? I didn't even think about it."

  I nod. "Yeah, I called them yesterday."

  "What about that friend of his with the red hair?"

  "The one who was in the wedding?"

  "Yeah."

  "He knows. Everyone knows, Ian. It's called Facebook."

  He nods and then turns back around again. He's hardly ever here because of his schedule, so I guess showing up and not knowing what he can do to help makes him feel useless. He's not, though. The simple fact that he's allowing me to stay preoccupied with all the busy work is actually helping a little bit. Especially after not being able to see Fallon today like I was supposed to.

  I close the back door and bump into Tate.

  "Sorry," she says, sidestepping around me. "I think I've convinced Jordyn to finally eat something." She rushes to the refrigerator and shoots my uncle a dirty look as she watches him dig through each of the casserole dishes.

  "Stop snacking and let's go," my aunt says to him. "We have that dinner with Claudia and Bill."

  They hug me goodbye and say they'll see me at the funeral. When my aunt isn't looking, Uncle Anthony slips me his Realtor card. When I shut the front door behind them, I lean against it and exhale.

  I think having to interact with all the visitors is the worst part of this whole family-member-death thing. I don't remember visitors being this frequent when my mother died several years ago, but then again, Kyle was alive to play the part I'm playing right now. I sulked in my bedroom like Jordyn is doing right now, hiding away from all the people. The thought of Kyle taking care of things back then when he was so young fills me with guilt. He had to have been hurting over her death just as much as I was, but I needed him to hold things together since I did nothing but fall apart.

  I slide my hands down my face, wanting it all to be over with. I want the day to end so we can get tomorrow over with and then the funeral will come and go. I just want things to settle down. But then again, I'm scared of how I'll feel when the dust finally does have a chance to settle.

  I kick off the door and head toward the kitchen when the doorbell rings. Again. I groan, just as Tate passes me with a plate of food. "I would get it, but . . ." She looks down at the plate and drink in her hands.

  "If you can just get her to eat something, I'll entertain the ten million visitors."

  Tate nods a sympathetic agreement, heading back toward Jordyn's room.

  I swing open the door.

  I blink twice to ensure I'm really seeing her.

  Fallon glances up at me and I don't say anything right away. I'm scared if I speak, the aberration will disappear.

  "I would have called first," she says, looking nervous. "I didn't know your number. But I just . . ." She blows out a quick breath. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

  I open my mouth to speak, but she holds up a hand to stop me. "I just lied to you, I'm sorry. I'm not here to see if you're okay. I know you're not okay. I just couldn't function after you hung up. The thought of not seeing you today and having to wait another year completely gutted me and . . ."

  I step forward and shut her up with my mouth.

  She sighs against my lips and wraps her arms around me, clasping her hands together behind my back. I kiss her hard, unable to believe that she's actually standing here. That she went straight to the airport after hanging up with me today and spent money on a ticket to fly all the way to Los Angeles just to see me.

  I continue to kiss her as I pull her into the house with me. My arm is around her waist, securing her against me, afraid that if I let her go she'll vanish into thin air.

  "I need . . ."

  She tries to speak, but my mouth pressed to hers is preventing her from it. She opens the front door and tries to pull away from me. I release her just enough so that she can say what she's trying to say. "I have to tell the driver he can go. I wasn't sure you'd want me here."

  I step around her and swing the door open wider. I wave the driver off and then close the door and grab her hand.

  I pull her up the stairs, toward my room.

  Away from everyone in the world I don't want to see or speak to right now.

  She's the only one I wanted with me today, and here she is. Just for me. Because she missed me.

  If she's not careful, I might just fall in love with her.

  Tonight.

  Fallon

  He closes his bedroom door behind us and pulls me in for a long hug.

  I've second-guessed my decision to show up today since the minute I bought my ticket. I almost turned around a hundred different ti
mes. I didn't think he'd want to see me with everything going on in his life right now. I thought maybe he would be angry that he told me he'd see me next year, but I showed up unannounced anyway.

  I never anticipated seeing the relief wash over his face when he opened the door. I never anticipated him kissing me like he missed me just as much as I've missed him. I never thought he'd just stand here and hug me for as long as he's been hugging me. He hasn't spoken a single word to me yet, but his actions have said a million thank yous.

  I close my eyes and keep my head pressed against his chest. He has one hand wrapped around the back of my head and the other hand secured around my back. I could stand here all night. If this is all we did--if he never even speaks a single word--it's worth the trip.

  I wonder if he feels the same way? If thoughts of me consume him all day long like thoughts of him consume me? If everything he does and everywhere he goes, he wishes he were sharing it with me?

  He kisses the top of my head and then plants his hands on my cheeks, tilting my face up to his. "I can't believe you're here," he says. I can see a smile at war with the devastation in his expression. I don't speak, because I still don't know what to say. I just run my hand down the side of his face and brush my thumb over his lips.

  I shouldn't be surprised that he's even more appealing this year than last. He's all man now. Gone are the pieces of boy I could still catch a glimpse of the last time I saw him.

  "How are you holding up?" I'm still stroking his face and he's still stroking mine, but he doesn't answer me. Instead, he connects his lips with mine and walks me backward, away from the door. He gently lowers me onto the bed, adjusting me so that I'm lying on his pillow. He breaks our kiss and slides over me. He doesn't lie adjacent to me. Instead, he presses his head against my chest and listens to my heartbeat as he secures his arms tightly around me. I bring my hand up and begin to stroke his hair in long, slow movements.

  We lie quietly for so long, I begin to wonder if he's fallen asleep. But after a few minutes, his grip around me grows desperate. He tilts his face until it's completely buried in my shirt, and his shoulders begin to shake as he starts to cry.

  It feels like my heart explodes into millions of tiny tears, and I want to wrap myself around him while he mourns. But his cry is so quiet, I can tell he doesn't want me to acknowledge it. He just needs me to let him cry, so that's exactly what I do.

  *

  Five minutes pass before he pulls himself together, but half an hour passes before he finally pulls away from me. He lifts off my chest and lies down next to me on his pillow. I roll over to face him. His eyes are still red, but he's no longer crying. He reaches to my face and brushes away a strand of hair, looking at me appreciatively.

  "How did it happen?" I ask.

  The sadness immediately reenters his eyes but he doesn't hesitate with his answer.

  "He was on his way home from work when his car ran off the road," he says. "A slip of attention. Three seconds and he hit a damn tree. He and Jordyn were supposed to leave on vacation that night and I'm pretty sure he was texting her when it happened, based on what the police told me. I'm hoping she hasn't figured that out yet, though. I hope she never does." I quietly begin tracing my fingers over his hand. "She's pregnant," he adds.

  My fingers pause their movement and I gasp.

  "I know," he says. "It's shit luck. They're supposed to be celebrating their anniversary this weekend."

  I hadn't thought of that, but as soon as he brings it up, I think about Jordyn last year and the frenzy she was in as she prepared for her impending wedding with Kyle. And now, just one year later, she's having to prepare for his impending funeral. "That's so sad. How far along is she?"

  "She's due in February."

  I try to put myself in her shoes. I'm almost positive she's twenty-four now. I can't imagine being that young and losing a husband months before the birth of my first child. It's incomprehensible.

  "When do you go back to New York?" he asks.

  "First thing tomorrow morning. I can stay at my mother's tonight, though, if I need to. I have to be up really early."

  He brings his mouth to mine. "You aren't sleeping anywhere but in this bed."

  A loud knock prevents his lips from reaching me and his attention moves to the door. It swings open and Ian walks in, looks at me and then does a double take.

  He points at me, but is looking at Ben. "There's a chick in your bed."

  We both sit up. When we do, Ian cocks his head, narrowing his eyes in my direction. "Wait. I've met you before. Fallon, right?"

  I won't lie; it feels good that his brother remembers me. Not that my face is one a person easily forgets. But he didn't have to remember my name and he did, so that can only mean that girls aren't in Ben's bed very often.

  "It was nice of you to come," Ian says. "You hungry? Came up to let Ben know that dinner's on the table."

  Ben groans as he scoots off the bed. "Let me guess. Casserole?"

  Ian shakes his head. "Tate was craving pizza, so we ordered delivery."

  "Thank God." Ben pulls me up. "Let's go eat."

  Ben

  "Let me get this straight," Miles says, looking at me and Fallon from across the table. "You blocked each other on social media. You don't know each other's phone numbers, so no contact whatsoever. But you've met up every year since you were eighteen?"

  "Crazy, huh?" Fallon says, lowering her glass to the table.

  "It's a little bit like Sleepless in Seattle," Tate says.

  I immediately shake my head. "It's nothing like that. They only agreed to meet up once."

  "True. It's like One Day, then. That movie with Anne Hathaway?"

  Again, I dismiss her comparison. "That just focuses on one particular day every year, but the two people still interact throughout the year like normal. Fallon and I have no contact." I don't know why I'm being so defensive. I think writers just naturally become defensive when their ideas are compared to other ideas, even if it's done innocently. But mine and Fallon's story is one-of-a-kind, and I feel somewhat protective of it. Very protective of it, actually.

  "When will you stop? Or do you plan on doing this for the rest of your lives?"

  Fallon glances at me and smiles. "We stop when we're twenty-three."

  "Why twenty-three?" Ian asks.

  Fallon answers the next few questions being fired at us, so I use the opportunity to excuse myself from the conversation to refill my drink. I lean against the counter and watch all of them interact from the kitchen.

  I'm happy she's here. I feel like having her here somewhat eases the grief everyone is feeling. She wasn't tied to Kyle in any way, so no one feels forced to walk on eggshells around her. She's like the breath of fresh air we all needed this week. I know I already thanked her for coming today, but one day I'll tell her exactly how much it means to me that she showed up.

  She glances at me from her chair, and when she sees the small smile on my face, she excuses herself from the table and walks into the kitchen.

  My entire body relaxes when her arms slide around my waist. She plants a kiss on my arm and then stifles a yawn.

  "You tired?"

  She looks up at me and nods. "Yeah. Still on New York time, and it's after midnight there. You mind if I use your shower before we go to bed?"

  I lift my finger to her mouth. "You have something in your teeth." She bares her teeth and I wipe what looks like a piece of pepper from her tooth. "All gone," I say, giving her a quick peck on the lips. "And yes, you can use my shower. Let me know if you need assistance." I wink at her, just as Ian leans against the counter beside us, narrowing his eyes at me.

  "Did you just pick something out of her teeth?"

  I don't say anything because I don't know what he plans to do with my answer.

  "I'm being serious," he says, looking at Fallon now. "Did he just pick something out of your teeth?"

  She nods hesitantly.

  Ian smirks. "Wow. My brother is in love with y
ou."

  I can feel Fallon freeze against me.

  "That's not awkward at all," I say sarcastically.

  Ian shakes his head with a sly grin. "It's not awkward, Ben. It's cute. You're in love."

  "Stop," I say to him.

  Ian releases a lighthearted laugh, and for once, I don't mind being picked on by him. It's the most air that's been let in this house in two days.

  "People don't do gross things like that unless they're in love," Tate says from the table. "It's a proven fact. It's on the Internet or something."

  I grab Fallon's hand and pull her out of the kitchen, away from the teasing. "Good night, guys. Fallon has other pressing hygiene issues I need to assist her with."

  I hear them laughing as we exit the kitchen and walk upstairs together.

  To my bedroom.

  Where we'll spend the night.

  Together.

  In my bed.

  It's tricky knowing I won't see her for another year, so I have no idea how far she's willing to take it. I think that would all depend on how far she's taken it with guys in the past.

  Of course I don't want to think about her with anyone else, but that's the whole point of meeting her every year. I want to make sure she's experiencing life like every girl her age should, and that means experiencing different people. But every night I close my eyes, I selfishly pray that she's sleeping in her bed alone.

  I want to ask her about it, but I'm not sure how to bring it up.

  I open my bedroom door and follow her inside. It's different walking into my room with her this time. It almost feels like there are expectations that have to be met before we exit this room in the morning. Conversations that need to be had. Bodies that need touching. Minds that need sleep. And not enough time to cram it all in before she'll leave me again for another year.

  I close and lock the door behind me. She's facing the bed as she reaches up and pulls her hair into a knot, securing it with a rubber band she's had around her wrist all day. I take a moment to admire the perfection of the curve between her neck and shoulder. I step forward and slip my arms around her waist so that I can press my lips against that very spot. I shower her in soft kisses from her shoulder to her ear and back down again. I kiss away the chills I'm responsible for. She makes a quiet sound, somewhere between a sigh and a moan.

  "I'll let you shower," I tell her without releasing her. "Towels are under the sink."