When I Was Theirs

28. Jared

28

Jared

W e eat pancakes together, Emilia sitting cross-legged at the end of Ben’s bed. We barely touch ours, Ben managing a few bites more than either of us.

Every time she glances my way, I look in the other direction.

This isn’t that. She’s wrong.

But he talks, and we listen. He talks about stupid things from our childhood, glossing over the crappy bits and focusing on the good times.

“We had a lot of good times,” he muses. “Right, Jar?”

“Right.” I smirk at him. “Like the time you were potty training and curled one out on Mom’s favorite rug. You were so proud, you took her by the hand and walked her over to see it. She had a group of friends over.”

Even she smiles. Ben’s laughter is silent, his shoulders shaking as he wheezes for breath. “I don’t think you ever told me that one.”

“Oh, yeah.” I think back. “Before that, you’d only poop behind a doorway. If anyone tried to pull the door away, you’d shout at them and wave your hands until they closed it. It was like one extreme to the other.”

Emilia sips at her coffee, grinning.

Ben groans, sinking his face into his hands. “You’re making me look bad in front of my girl, Jar.”

“And then there were the pineapples.”

Ben shudders. “Emmy already knows my deep-rooted fear of those things. Little heads. Not that you helped.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard in my life as the day I chased you around with it.” I frown. “Until I couldn’t get it off. You started crying because you thought it was permanent.”

A snort draws our attention. Emilia has her hand over her mouth.

“He tortured me,” Ben announces. His smirk softens. “You always had the best stories though.”

Burning at the back of my eyes. My throat. “I had to keep going to the library and flicking through the kids’ books. You were a demanding little shit. Never wanted the same story twice.”

Ben coughs. A hacking, wet noise that has Emilia uncrossing her legs and darting to where his head lays against the pillow. Ben grimaces as she lifts him, plumping the pillow so he’s more raised. “Jar… will you give us a minute?”

Her hand pauses, and she looks at me.

“Course.” My voice sounds easy enough as I stand.

Ben catches my hand. Squeezes it. “I love the fuck out of you, you know.”

No.

I can’t say anything. But I lean over him, my arms carefully wrapping around Ben’s frail body as I breathe him in for several precious seconds before I can speak. “I love you, too. So fucking much, Benny.”

“Your favorite brother, right?” His voice shakes.

“My only brother.” I swallow. “The only one I ever wanted.”

But it feels like the world is spinning out of control as I duck outside into the hallway, leaving them to it and slumping down against the wall. The tears come in a rush.

My head bangs against the plaster.

This is it.

We’re out of time.