Page 17 of When We Had Forever
Angling the license away, I scan for clues. Apparently Michael Bradley Drake is six foot three, weighs a hundred and eighty-five pounds, and has a birthday in February, two years before mine, which currently makes him twenty-five to my twenty-two. There’s also an address in Seattle with an apartment number attached.
No surprises there. I move on to the picture.
The second I do, I know that’s what he doesn’t want me to see. He’s younger here, his hair shorter, his cheeks fuller. But his expression...
He looks wounded. Haunted. Those blue-green eyes stare out of the frame as if asking how the world has dared hurt him so badly. Try as I might, I find no trace of the easygoing smiler of the past few hours.
Without thinking, I snap a picture and send that off, too. Then I hunt for the license’s issue date—January, two years ago. “What happened to you?” I say softly. “Two and a half years ago?”
When I look up, a muscle feathers in Michael’s jaw. He holds out a hand for the license, which he stares at for a moment before tucking it into his pocket. “Something I don’t usually talk about.”
“Oh. It’s a secret?”
“No, it’s just...painful.” There’s a bleak note in his voice—a hint of old, dark blood in the water, remnants of a wound that never quite healed. “I have to be in the right frame of mind to get through it. And with the right person.”
An ache forms in my chest. I try to chase it off with a joke. “I guess we’re stuck talking about the weather, then.”
He doesn’t laugh. “No, I’ll tell you. I just... Don’t repeat this, please. It’s not something I share with just anyone.”
That strikes me dumb, because Iamjust anyone.
But for whatever reason, Michael doesn’t seem to think so. He soldiers on, looking raw and determined. “It had to do with a girl. My brother’s fiancée.”
“Oh.” Irrational jealousy stabs through me. “You were in love with your brother’s girlfriend?”
“No, no, nothing like that. I mean...Lily was incredible, in lots of ways. Pretty, like your friend Kate. Kindhearted. But she was so focused on ticking off the boxes people expected her to that she never stopped to wonder what she wanted for herself. Maybe that made her feel safe, letting others decide what she should dream about. And it’s definitely why my brother adored her so much. She didn’t demand a whole lot. Didn’t mind making him her priority. Which is kind of his thing.”
I frown, not at all certain of where this is going.
“Not that he didn’t treat her well. He spoiled the shit out of her, actually. But then she...died.” Michael’s jaw works, as if he’s chewing on something bitter and can’t decide whether to spit it out or not. “Because of something I did. Lily died, and it was my fault.”
“Oh. Oh...god.”
“It was an accident, but...it’s something I can never make right. And trust me, I’ve tried. I’mstilltrying.” His voice roughens, turning hollow and ancient. “But it’s too late. She’s gone, and nothing I do can ever be enough. I’m pretty sure my brother wishes I’d never been born.”
Horror pools in my stomach. To be responsible for someone’s death, even by accident...
“Holy shit,” I say. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks. It was...not a good time in my life. Hence the picture.”
“Wow. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.” I wince at the paleness of my apology.
“It’s okay. You didn’t know. Though I wish you hadn’t sent that photo to your friend.”
Heat invades my throat. WhydidI do that? I stare out the window, feeling as if I’ve betrayed Michael without meaning to.
The sting only burns hotter when I glimpse the suburban sprawl beyond the glass. When did we leave the forest behind? I hadn’t even noticed.
I glance at the navigation: “Time to destination: 0:02.”
My heart lurches. Two minutes, even though it’s only ten forty-six. Michael has shaved a full twenty minutes off the trip, for which I should be grateful. Except silence pulses between us like a bruise. For a moment, I mourn the destroyed perfection of the drive, then tell myself it’s better this way. Easier.
In my hand, my phone buzzes. Kate again.
That is...not what I expected him to look like. Obviously someone ran over his cat the day that picture was taken, but aside from that, goddamn.
Chest heavy, I type back,Yeah, no shit. Try sitting next to him for three hours and not drooling. It’s harder than it sounds.Then I stash my cell away, because that’s quite enough of that.
