Almost Just Friends Read online

Everyone stared at each other.

  “Okay, so here’s the thing,” Gavin said, after the awkward beat of silence. “Rowan’s official funeral was back East, and some of us didn’t get to go. We’re not trying to break any laws here, we’re just trying to honor a kid who died way too young in the best way we know how.”

  CJ looked at Gavin for a long beat, and then turned to the rest of them. “As I said, you need a permit. Unfortunately, if you don’t have one, and someone, say a bored old woman with a powerful set of binoculars, turns you in, there’s a big fine. But if that bored old woman happens to receive a visit from a local cop in the next few minutes, who stops by to tell her everything’s fine on the lake’s perimeter, that there’s no alien invasion, and then possibly agrees to her offer of tea so that she’s busy and distracted for the next hour, then no harm, no foul.”

  Gavin watched him leave, something in his expression speaking of a whole lot of pain that had nothing to do with Rowan. Then he nodded at Winnie to continue, who clutched the canister and looked to the water below.

  “Hey, Rowan,” she whispered, eyes already wet as she pulled a handwritten note from her pocket. “I know, two good-byes and you hate good-byes. But I needed to tell you a couple of things.” She read from her notes. “First . . . I don’t think I appreciated you enough. Actually, I know I didn’t. I mean, who else could I have called in the middle of the night about a june bug in my room? You drove two hours to come save me.” She sniffed and lost her battle with her tears, but she kept reading. Not that Cam could understand a single word of it, and given the look on everyone’s faces, they couldn’t either.

  He really wanted to close himself off to her heartfelt, raw grief. Instead, he held his hand out for the paper.

  With gratitude, she handed it over, and as he began to speak her words for her, she dropped her head to his chest and sobbed.

  “‘You always said I needed to reach for the stars,’” he read, his throat on fire as he held her close with one arm. “‘And I want you to know, Rowan, I’m going to keep trying. For you. Thanks for being my ride or die. I’ll never forget you.’”

  “That’s sweet, Win,” Piper whispered.

  Winnie lifted her head and gave her a soggy, grateful smile.

  Cam handed her back the note and gently took the canister, looking down at all that was left of his brother. His heart was still beating in that heavy thumping rhythm from a grief he hadn’t been able to let go of, didn’t know if he’d ever be able to let go. Drawing a deep breath, he stared sightless at the water below, but what he saw was himself on the asphalt that night, holding a dying Rowan, the rain falling on their faces. “I dream about the car accident every night,” he said.

  He felt Piper’s hand on his arm, and when he met her gaze, hers was filled with way too much sympathy and understanding, neither of which he deserved.

  “We’d fought,” he said through an impossibly tight throat. “He’d been drinking and was acting”—he shook his head—“like Rowan. He could find a good time in doing absolutely nothing, and I snapped.” He knew he had to do this, had to say it all or he’d never be able to live with himself. “We got into it.” And a lot of that had been because Cam was mad that Rowan had ruined some girl’s life getting her pregnant so young, not that he could say that since Piper still didn’t know. “I called him immature and ungrateful and lazy. I told him he needed to grow the fuck up. And he”—he forced himself to look at Winnie and his dad—“he told me to stop being a controlling asshole.”

  His dad made a rough sound deep in his throat, but Cam wasn’t sure if it was agreement or anger. He deserved the anger.

  Winnie simply closed her eyes.

  He didn’t dare look at Piper, couldn’t face what she must be thinking of him. But nor could he stop now, not until he got it all out. “After we yelled at each other, he tried to leave. He wanted to go home, and instead of making him stay, I drove him to the airport. We didn’t make it halfway before—” He broke off and clamped his jaw tight to try to not lose his shit completely.

  “No,” Winnie said. “That’s not on you.” She turned him to face her. “You knew Rowan, he was stubborn as hell. He was pissy because he knew you were right. He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself for what happened.”

  Squeezing her hand, he looked down at the canister. “We all miss you,” he said and closed his eyes.

  At his side, Piper wrapped an arm around him. Winnie was still holding on to him from the other side. But it was his dad who stepped right in front of him, eyes wet, voice raw. “As a dad, as your dad, I want to demand something of you right here, right now. I know I have no right, but I’m going to do it anyway.”

  Cam braced for his dad to agree that he was at fault.

  But that wasn’t what happened. His dad reached up and cupped Cam’s face. “Winnie said it best. Rowan wouldn’t have blamed you, son. And neither do I. No one blames you for what happened that night. No one. We’re just grateful you’re alive, so fucking grateful. So even though there’s nothing to forgive, you’re forgiven anyway. Now all you have to do is forgive yourself. Something I know a little bit about after giving you up to your mom. Forgiving myself for that was a long time coming, and if I’m being honest, I haven’t really managed it fully.”

  “Dad.” He shook his head. “It’s okay.”

  His dad pressed their foreheads together. “It’s getting there.”

  When Emmitt finally let him go and stepped back, Cam swiped his eyes with his forearm, opened the canister, and . . . let Rowan go.

  When it was done, Winnie took the canister and clutched it to her chest as they all watched the ashes slowly vanish from view. “Now he’ll always be here with us,” she said softly.

  Piper wrapped her arms around Cam, and just like when his dad had touched him, it warmed him. He dropped his head to her shoulder and did something he’d never done in his life.

  Took comfort from another human being.

  They stood there for a long time, but eventually they all walked home, where Gavin made baked mac and cheese from scratch. And hot dogs. “To eat this time, not throw,” he said. “And there’s chocolate cake for dessert. Comfort food, from the heart.”

  The food and company were exactly that, comforting, but halfway through the cake, it happened. He’d been ignoring the signs, the metallic taste in his mouth, the odd aura of lights flashing in his peripheral vision. But suddenly he could no longer ignore it, or the staggering pain. He managed to get to his feet, knowing what he needed, but he’d waited too long.

  “What’s wrong?” Piper asked, standing with him, taking his hand, looking concerned.

  He opened his mouth to answer, but it felt like someone was stabbing a hot poker into his left eyeball, robbing him of thoughts and the ability to speak.

  “Migraine,” Emmitt said, eyes on Cam. “They’re rare, but he gets them when he’s stressed. He needs a quiet dark room, no noise.”

  “Just going to go home,” Cam murmured, eyes squinted because it hurt to open them all the way. Both cold and sweating, he had to put a hand on the wall to keep the world from spinning, which pissed him off. He’d learned through some seriously brutal military training how to let pain course through him on its way out of his body, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel every inch of it as it went.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Piper said. “Not when you can barely stand. I’ve got you this time, Cam.”

  Having her say that was staggering. No one had ever said such a thing to him. “I just need to sleep it off.” He turned to the door.

  But Piper had a grip of steel on him. “No way.”

  He knew he was going to give in, mostly because he was going to pass out. “Bossy,” he murmured. And also smart as hell, resourceful, resilient, tough as nails, and she never failed to brighten his day or make him smile. And since he couldn’t imagine making it home, he let her take his hand and pull him out of the kitchen.

  She took him to her bedroom. Without turn