Page 55 of Shine For Me

That’s pretty big coming from Ash. The twins tell each other everything. Half the time they don’t even need to speak to communicate with each other. River says it’s creepy—I think it’s kind of nice. It would be cool to have someone know you that well.

“So, yeah. There’s a girl.”

He rolls his eyes. “We both know you’re talking about Juniper Cain.”

I gape at him. “How the fuck did you know that?”

“Because I have eyes? I’ve seen the two of you together, Fox. It’s obvious there’s something there.”

Sometimes I forget that Ash is basically all grown up now. And way smarter than me or River.

“I thought something might happen with us,” I tell him, shrugging. “But somehow we ended up having a huge fight instead and now everything is all awkward.”

“Have you tried talking to her about the fight?”

“It’s not that simple.”

Something dark crosses over his face and he nods. “Yeah, I get that. Talking isn’t as easy as people think it is.”

Something in his tone has me sitting up straighter. “Ash? Everything okay?”

“Sure.” But he isn’t meeting my eyes anymore, and my worry grows.

My little brother has always been a sensitive kid. It manifested itself in little ways when he was younger—he had more nightmares than most kids. If he watched a sad movie he would sometimes cry randomly for a solid week after. As he got older, those little things started concerning us more. He would retreat inside himself for long stretches at a time, barely talking to anyone but Violet.

It terrified my parents, though they tried to keep us from seeing how scared they were. There’s a history of depression in my mom’s side of the family, and she struggled pretty badly as a teenager. When I was really worried about Ash, I would sometimes sit outside their room when they thought we were all in bed to listen to what they had to say about him. Mostly it was my dad trying to comfort her, to assure her that Ash’s therapist knew what he was doing. But sometimes I would hear my mom cry, and that always scared me more than anything.

He’s been doing well, though, the last few years. He had a rough patch when high school started but there haven’t been as many of those scary, quiet stretches lately.

“Ash,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. “If you’re feeling off, you need to talk about it.” I replay his words of a few minutes ago in my mind. “Even if talking isn’t easy.”

“I know,” he snaps. “I’ve been talking to Mom and Dad. It’s just…I don’t want it to be a big deal. I don’t want everyone to get all worried and look at me differently.”

“No one is going to look at you differently,” I say gently, but he just rolls his eyes.

Suddenly, it occurs to me that he just said he’s talking to Mom and Dad. “What about Vi?” I ask him. “Have you been talking to her?”

His gaze goes distant. “Not really.”

A knot of dread forms in my stomach. He talks too Violet abouteverything. I try to keep my voice even. “Why not?”

“Because Mom and Dad think I should stay home for the first year of college,” he bursts out, sounding angrier than I’ve heard him in a long time. “And if I do that…” he shakes his head as he trails off. “She’s so fucking excited about school, Fox,” he says, his voice breaking. “I’m not going to screw that up for her.”

That’s when I get it. He’s afraid that if he stays home, Violet will insist on staying too. And he’s probably right. I can’t imagine her leaving to have some fun, carefree college experience when Ash is home and struggling.

“Not talking to her about it isn’t going to help,” I say as gently as I can. “If she thinks you’re holding stuff back from her, that’s just going to make her worried. And that will make it harder for her to leave, you know?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Can we drop this? I had therapy today, and Mom has been pulling me aside for her little chats all week and I just…I’m just tired of it, Fox.”

I want to argue with him. I want to force him to talk to me until we figure this out, until we find a solution, until I can assure myself that my little brother is okay. But depression doesn’t work like that. I can’t force him to feel better. None of us can. All we can do is try to be there for him.

“Sure, man,” I say. “Still waiting on your turn, by the way.”

“You’re going to regret being so eager in a minute,” he says, a ghost of a smile tugging on his lips.

“Damn it,” I mutter, as the digital board shifts, showing Ash knocking out my pawn. He has a clear shot at my queen now. The little jerk is going to beat me. Again.

Sure enough, he has me in checkmate less than ten minutes later. I’d be more annoyed by it, if his mood hadn’t shifted so much. All the tension I’d seen in his face a few minutes ago is gone, replaced by a smug smile and a shit ton of trash talk.