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“That's amazing.” I can't fathom someone doing such a massive gesture for me. “I bet she loved it.”

Shadows of grief darken his green eyes, like the sun can't reach them. “She did. It's a shame she didn't get to live in it for more than a year before she died.”

My heart cuts clean, new scars forming, as I hear his voice rattle. Jordan loved his sister. Though I never had a sibling, I still know how it feels to adore someone. I'd do anything to make my mother happy. Anything.

I'm doing math in my head. I can remember Dezmond from my freshman year, but not before then. I hadn't known him well, I still don't think I do, but I'd assumed he lived in Crestwind his whole life like me. Funny how he slipped right in like he'd always been a part of this place.

Jordan is staring at nothing, saying nothing, and the silence is heavy enough to smother me. “Is that why you work so hard for him? Because he's all that's left of her?”

His shoulders scrunch up towards his ears, making slopes of muscle. “We're blood. Son, nephew, the title doesn't fucking matter. He's my responsibility.”

“He's twenty-two,” I say gingerly.

Jordan snaps a glare at me—I inch a step back in the sand. “What are you trying to say?”

“Just that he's an adult. You aren't obligated to take care of him, fix his mistakes, put up with the awful stuff he does. I get when he was a teen, but being responsible for him doesn't mean letting him ruin the lives of others.”

“Whose life? Yours?”

I grit my teeth. “And yours, too.”

“You don't get it, Lorikeet. I have to suffer.”

“That doesn't make sense.”

“You don't have to understand it. It's not your problem.”

“Of course it is! Dezmond is hauntingboth of us!”

His voice seethes between his clenched teeth. “What do you know about being haunted?”

“Plenty! More than you!”

“That's not fucking possible!” he roars, and for the first time I see how he resembles Dezmond. Yes, they do share blood.

I don't wilt under his ferocity. Holding my head high, I say, “You can't have me and keep him happy, too.”

It's like I slapped him; he reels back, eyes wide, hands flexing at his sides. His mouth twitches at both ends. “All this talk about being haunted, Lorikeet … and I never told you how I thought you were her ghost.”

I shirk away from him. "You mean Deena?"

He runs his fingers through his hair, looking drained. “The night I saw you on the bridge. I spotted you coming from a mile away. Your headlights … the sound of the boat passing through. I would never have intervened, except she was on my mind. Stuck in there the way she always is when I visit her grave.”

That's right, he was on the island that night. Hours after he bought those flowers. He really was coming back from the cemetery when I was planning to confront Dez at Chico's.

Jordan hangs his head, then sits in the sand. I follow him down, settling beside him, not daring to touch. I want to hear what he says and I'm afraid if I slow him in any way, he'll close his lips, hide his story away forever.

He whispers with his eyes shut. “I was driving that night. She wanted to celebrate a building I'd designed. It was a huge contract, massive money, and my partners at the company were blowing up my phone with congratulations. It was just going to be a few drinks. Nothing terrible. I was distracted … it was raining.” His tone keeps falling until I can barely hear him over the waves. “She screamed when we skidded on a puddle. The look in her eyes as she grabbed the wheel, tried to correct our course, was so determined. Focused. Like her fear simply went away so she could do whatever she had to and save us.”

My heart is in my throat when he turns to smile at me. Tears well in his eyes until everything is blurry. He says, “It was how you looked that night. Determined. I cut you off because I thought you were going to drive right over the bridge and plummet to your death. Deena stopped us from that fate by steering us into the rocks. She saved me … but it wasn't enough to save her. She didn't make it like I did.”

“Jordan.” My chin trembles.

“I had to be the one to look Dezmond in the eye and say his mother wasn't coming home. That I was the reason she died. Why I couldn't draw a single line on a piece of paper again, even though I cart that fucking notebook with me in the hope I'll magically feel okay out of the blue. Listen, Lorikeet … if we hadn't been going out to celebrate … she'd be alive. Do you understand now? Why it's my responsibility to take care of him, to make him happy? I killed his mother. It's the least I can do for him. For Deena.”

My arms wind around his shoulders. We press together in the hot sun, but our bodies draw warmth from each other, nothing else. There are tears running down my cheeks that dampen his skin, and I don't know if they're just mine. His face is too tightly against me to be sure. If I have to cry for us both, I will. I'll do it until I have nothing left to give.

Jordan clings to me, threatening to fracture my bones. I force him to grab tighter. Hurt me, break me, whatever he needs to heal himself, I'll encourage it.He's been struggling for years with all this guilt. Keeping it hidden in quiet agony … refusing to let anyone try to understand. He was worried it would taint her memory if he admitted resentment for the teenager he took in.