I stare at the glass in front of me. Dad’s precious Macallan. Premium
Scotch is wasted on me. I’d drink the dregs from a keg if it got the job done.
If it numbed this hurt.
I look around at my brothers. We’re all broken in different ways. Elijah
and Nathan are the oldest, staring out the window at the fireworks, lost in
their own world. Drake looks distracted, and Mason seems like he’s about
to implode. He’s the one closest in age to me, and I know the signs.
“Does anyone else feel like it’s weird that it’s just us?” he finally asks.
Unable to bear the silence, I guess.
“We could put the TV on. Watch the ball drop,” Elijah chips in.
God, no. She’d have hated that. Then again, she would have hated
seeing us all like this as well. She was a fierce momma bear and she would
have torn down the world to protect her cubs and the man she loved. What
the hell are we all supposed to do without her?
Drake says no to the TV idea and reminds us that she used to think the
whole ball drop thing was off by a few seconds anyway. “Remember how
she’d always insist on using Great-Grandad’s old Navy diving watch to
determine when it was midnight instead?”
I remember. The way she made us double check it, a stream of annoyed
Spanish curses pouring from her lips.
Nathan frowns. “Where the hell is that thing?”
I know where that thing is. It’s in my hand, inside my pocket. I snuck it
in there earlier. No clue why. Something solid to hold onto. Something real
to connect me to her. Tears sting the back of my eyes. I pull the watch out
and show it to them. This chunk of old metal she once touched is as close to
her as I can get these days.
I hold in the tears. Even though we’re all feeling the same. Maybe it’s
because I still feel the need to prove I’m not a baby. I’m sixteen for fuck’s
sake.
“Jesus, it feels so weird without her here,” Mason says, choking down
his Scotch. He’s up, pacing around, full of energy. “Like this house has no
fucking soul anymore. Let’s get the fuck out of here and go somewhere.”
“Like where, jerkwad?” Drake asks.
“I dunno. A club or something. A place where there’s life.”
A club. Yeah, right. Much as I love the idea of getting shitfaced, that’s
not gonna work for me. I’m not old enough, technically. While I have a fake
ID, I’m pretty sure my brothers wouldn’t actively condone me using it. But