I should blame him for being so selfish, but I am too.
I saw her.
I know Zay wants her.
I know Xavier is obsessed with her.
I know there is no space for me.
But I want there to be.
I want her.
I don’t remember the last time I wanted something so bad, that I would sentence my best friend, my brother, to death.
I slam my fist against the tile, the impact sending a dull throb up my arm that radiates through my elbow, my shoulder.
The grout cracks under my knuckles, a spiderweb fracture that mirrors the ones running through my chest, and I watch a thin line of blood mix with the water, swirling pink before disappearing down the drain.
Xavier’s in surgery because I wasn’t good enough.
Because for one moment I hesitated, softened, let myself be something other than what I was raised to be.
Because I failed at the only thing that has ever mattered: family. Us.
Zay, Jackie, Xavier, Talia, and me.
That’s the whole world.
That’s all there has ever been.
Nothing outside that circle has meaning.
No one outside it has ever mattered.
I should have learned that six years ago, on the night Talia’s twin—my little brother—died.
I was to blame then too. No hesitation about it.
If I had been stronger, faster, sharper, he would still be here.
Talia won’t let me believe that, but she’s a good kid in ways I’m not.
She’s loyal in ways I’m not.
She’s strong in the places I’m weakest.
And sometimes I hate how easily she forgives the things I can’t.
The cold water turns my skin numb, goosebumps rising across my arms and chest, but it’s not enough.
Nothing’s enough.
I could stand here until I freeze solid, until my lips turn blue and my fingers won’t work anymore, and it still wouldn’t erase the fact that Xavier might not wake up.
That I might lose him.
And it is my fault.