I hate coming here. I hate leaving her—it makes me feel guilty. And I hate that I feel guilty instead of driven to fix her or care for her. I tried before I left for Western, and it only made me resent her. I had to leave, and I know Mac would never have expected me to take on his burden. But I also know he’d be proud if I did.
“You okay?” Cody asks as I drag my feet back to his truck where he’s waiting with the door open on my side, holding it for me like he always does.
“Yeah…” I bite down on my lip, begging my eyes not to betray me. But I can’t stop them from tearing up. “No. I hate this place.”
I fold into his arms as soon as I reach him, and he wraps them tightly around my head, kissing the top and laying his cheek flat against mine. “Your aunt?” he asks, and I just nod yes.
Cody squeezes me tighter, and I force my breathing back to normal, willing myself not to break down any more—at least not until we visit Mac.
I pick my head up when I hear the tires turn over the loose gravel on the side of the road, and I back away from Cody as soon as Trevor comes into view. Cody follows my gaze, and I see his entire body tense when he realizes Trevor’s come back. I know Cody wants to do this alone—just me and him—and I can see the struggle in his eyes as he backs against his truck and pulls up his hood on his sweatshirt, forcing his hands in the front pocket.
“So, what’s the deal?” Trevor asks, clearly ready to spar more and aiming to pick a fight with me, with Cody—probably with anyone willing.
“We’re going to visit Mac,” Cody says, looking off to the side, careful not to engage him. His words seem to stun Trevor a little, and he looks down, nodding.
“Oh, I…sorry, Charlotte. I didn’t know you were planning on that,” he says, caught somewhere between the good guy I know him to be and the angry man that wants to pound his brother to pieces.
“It’s okay. Wasn’t really planned, just sorta something I need to do…if that makes sense?” I say, sniffling away my leftover emotions. I walk over to him and wrap my hand around his folded arms, forcing him to look at me. His muscles tense at my touch, his body somehow becoming even stiffer. He recoils, and my stomach sinks knowing how badly I’ve hurt him.
“You flying out with me? I can move our time if you need,” Trevor asks, but he knows what I’m going to say. He won’t even lift his head to make eye contact with me.
“I’m going home with Cody,” I say, knowing my words are killing him. He nods and chews at the inside of his cheek.
“Right,” he says with a false laugh, lifting his head once to smile at me, but it’s all acting. I can see the pain underneath. “Well…maybe…I can come along, just until you guys get through this?”
“That’d be nice,” I say, and I can feel Cody deflate behind me, but he fights against showing it to Trevor, instead forcing his lips into a tight-lipped smile.
“She could use the support. Thanks, man,” Cody says, and I can see his words rub against Trevor’s grain, his shoulders rolling at his words.
“Yeah, I guess you know what she needs…” Trevor mumbles, just loud enough for me to hear. I’m grateful Cody’s too far.
Trevor says he’ll follow us, and Cody opens the door for me to get in, closing it gently behind me. I watch him walk around his truck, his eyes on his brother as he walks down the driveway, and I see a flash of regret cross his face. He tucks it back inside when he climbs in next to me, but I know it’s there. It makes my heart hurt, knowing the irreparable rift I’ve no doubt left behind.
The drive to the cemetery is short, only a few blocks away from the precinct. Every building between Mac’s home and his final resting place is marked by a memory—and they hit me like punches as we drive along the side street. My grade school, the bus stop, the park where we used to look at the stars when the moon was full, and the road to the convenience store—the final road. The end. I’m shaking by the time we arrive, but I fold my arms tightly across my body—I don’t want Cody to see how weak I am, to feel like this is too much—because I need to do this.
It’s time.
We park along the roadway, and Trevor pulls in behind us. I don’t wait for them. This is something I have to do alone. I’m glad they’re here to pick me up if I can’t make it. I also know if I can’t bring myself to see Mac—his name on some cold stone I picked out from a catalogue the police chaplain shoved in front of me and the bare dirt patch that covers what’s left of him—then I will always be broken.