Chapter 75

"You really don't need to be cooking dinner for us every night."

"I enjoy cooking," I say, shrugging.

"Don't you dare ruin a good thing for me, Levi," Jen says, sipping on her wine as she sits at the kitchen table, going through the mail.

"She's a guest, Ma."

His mom waves off the thought. "Harlow is family, now hush. Besides, you could learn a thing or two from her."

Jen winks over at me, and I smile in return. She knows cooking is a form of therapy for me because I'd told her so myself. I'd seen her a lot recently, but it's always been through a computer screen during our twice-a-week counseling sessions.

My brother's best friend, her son, doesn't know this though—doctor-patient confidentiality and all.

After witnessing Jace with Reyna, I had this moment—a single flash of a thought. Just one sip of alcohol to take away the pain. The problem is that with me, one sip leads to another, and another, until I can no longer control my thoughts. My emotions. My dad had cleared the house of any booze, but if I put on enough makeup, there was a gas station in Fremont that never checked for ID, and when I realized I was simply thinking about it, I reached for my phone, went through the contacts, until I found the one and only person who felt safe.

Not safe in the sense that he wouldn't hurt me, because I had Sammy and Jeannie, but they would ask questions—questions I didn't want to answer.

Levi didn't ask questions. Didn't prod and push until the truth was out there. He was the same with my brother, and I know this, because my brother was the same as me in that sense.

We talked when we were ready, if we were ready, otherwise, we'd work things out on our own.

I arrived at two in the morning, and Levi welcomed me with open arms. So did Jen. They got me set up in the guest bedroom, and Jen asked if my dad knew where I was. I told her no. She offered to call him for me, just to "let him know I was safe."

I've spoken to him twice in the three days since I've been here, but always through Levi's phone.

It's not that I'm going out of my way to hide out or ignore my friends or make them worry. I just needed… out.

I needed out of the darkness and the heartache and the loneliness I'd been drowning in for weeks, and I needed… space.

More than anything, though, I needed my brother.

I've spent the past few days driving around our old neighborhood, past our old house, and the park a few blocks away that Dad took us to when we were kids. I ate at his favorite spot, dipped my fries into my vanilla shake like he used to. And I've cried. A lot.

Levi had already planned to visit his grave today—the one-year anniversary of his death. I hadn't been back since his funeral. His headstone was covered in ruby-red roses, the color matching the necklace I wore. Levi held my hand the entire time, but he didn't wipe away my tears, and I didn't wipe his either. We were there for all of ten minutes before more and more people started showing up. All his teammates who were still around came to see him, greeted me with hugs, and called me "Mini Greene" like they did back in high school. We sat for a while as they shared memories of my brother, moments of his life that I never knew about. It would have been quite the scene from the outside—ten giant jocks and little me, sitting around a grave, laughing and crying through our heartache.

Soon enough, Harley's friends left, one by one, and then it was just me and Levi again.

"He left quite the legacy, huh?" I said, staring at Harley's name forever etched in marble.

Levi was quiet a beat before clearing his throat. "He left you, Harlow," he said. "So, yeah… I'd say he left quite the legacy."

I faced him, my tear-filled eyes making him nothing but a blur in front of me.

Levi smiled, but it was sad. "He left me behind too," he said. "And every day, I try to live my life in a way that would make him proud." He lowered his gaze, focused on the dirt between us. "I don't know what's going on with you, and I know enough not to ask. But, I think about Harley a lot, and I think about how he left this world fighting for what he loved. Just one more minute on that court. One more play. One more basket. Could you imagine what he would've given us if he'd had just one more day?" He paused a breath, trying to settle his emotions. "If he taught us anything, it's that we shouldn't take a single day for granted, Harlow. We just shouldn't."