Low Over High (The Over Duet #1) Page 20

  I have more questions than answers right now, but one thing’s for sure. I have got to get through to Ever, one way or another.

  “Where’s Boy Wonder?” Remy asks, frowning.

  “As far away from me as he can get,” I say, and then shrug, holding back the tears. “Bathroom. What the hell is going on, Remy? What happened?”

  He takes a long drag off his cigarette, then it billows out his nostrils as he shakes his head. He flicks the ash off the tip of the cigarette, and takes another pull.

  “Hell if I know. All I can tell you is he showed up at my apartment, middle of last week, torn the fuck up. He spent Thanksgiving on my couch. He’s crashed at my place more often than not in the past week. But he’s not talking, so I don’t have a clue what’s going on. All I know is he’s determined to forget about it.”

  “I thought he was staying at his uncle’s house. Isn’t he looking for him? Isn’t he worried?”

  This doesn’t make any sense to me. Ever’s uncle seems like a responsible adult. He’s the headmaster of Orleans Academy, for Christ’s sake. How could he let Ever just disappear like that?

  “I get the impression Ever’s been given a long rope. As long as he checks in with his family, they’re letting him deal with his shit however he wants. At least for now.”

  Remy drops his cigarette to the ground, smashing the cherry with the tip of his worn boot. He stuffs his fists into his pockets, and shifts his gaze to the market door, silently telling me he’s done with this conversation. Unfortunately, my time is up anyway, because Evelyn and Oliver are waiting for me.

  “Do you have him, Remy?” He gives me a confused look. “Is he covered? Are you going to make sure Etienne doesn’t see him like this? Are you going to make sure he gets home … or to your home, safe and sound?”

  “Been doing it for the past week, Low. I’ve got this, don’t worry,” he says, then notices my expression. “Much. Don’t worry much. And call me if you need anything. I’m on your side, you know?”

  I give him a curt nod and a tight smile. He squeezes my shoulder and goes back inside. Even with his reassurance, I can’t shake this impending sense of doom creeping up my spine. It feels like the domino has been tipped, and I’m helpless to stop the forward motion.

  All the pieces keep tumbling down.

  “Marlo, have you given any thought to what you’d like to do after graduation? I assume college is in your future?” Oliver asks as we sit down in the formal living room after dinner. Evelyn pours a scotch from the tower of crystal and liquor on the wet bar as he waits for my answer. She hands it to him with a sweet smile and perches on the arm of his chair, her focus on me now, too.

  “I plan on going to college, but I don’t have a clue what I want to study, or where I want to go. It’s all vague and out there in the future. It’s not real to me yet, so I’m saying yes to the idea. The actual plan is still up in the air,” I explain.

  College applications are looming, and some of the other students already started the process. Unless you’re Charlotte, and all applications have been completed and sent in already.

  Damn overachiever.

  Turning a blind eye and a deaf ear won’t work for much longer, but so many “what-ifs” and “maybes” hang over my head, it’s hard to concentrate on a future that’s yet to come into focus for me.

  Evelyn stands up and joins me on the couch, her hand resting on my thigh. “Darling, Oliver and I want you to know that we have every intention of continuing to invest in your education. We’d be honored to do it, if you’d let us.”

  I look back and forth between them, and they’re both beaming at me. It’s real. It’s genuine. It was a rocky start, but I believe it’s the start of a family. Mentally adding both of them to my list of loved ones feels right, and I hope Declan gives them the chance I did. I don’t think he’ll regret it.

  “Wow, that’s such a generous offer, and I can’t thank you enough, really,” I say, feeling like my words aren’t enough, don’t even begin to scratch the surface of how grateful I am. “I’ll have to talk to my dad, of course, but I truly appreciate the offer and the chance to come here, to Orleans Academy. I loved having the time to get to know the both of you.”

  We chat a bit about next semester’s classes and my upcoming finals. Despite the drama and turmoil circling, I’ve managed to stay on top of my studies and I feel confident about most of my exams. I’ve been using studying as a distraction from my worries, which should work out in my favor. If I can’t get the boy, I damn well should get the grades.

  “Oh, that reminds me. Would y’all mind if I stayed over here tomorrow night, and maybe Saturday night? Exams start Monday, and most of the students are staying at school instead of going home for the weekend. The dorm is going to be a madhouse, and I’d love to have some peace and quiet to study.”

  “Of course,” Evelyn answers as Oliver nods his agreement. “We’ll be out of town for a cocktail party tomorrow night, but we’ll be back first thing Saturday morning. You’re welcome to stay both nights. If you’d like to invite your roommates to stay over and study, that would be fine. Ever is welcome to stop by for a study session, too, if he’d like.”

  Evelyn mentioning Ever stopping by surprises me. I guess it shouldn’t, since she’s been so lenient with me from the very beginning. I’m not sure if she trusts me more than she should or if she’s just that non-parental. Whatever the reason, I’ll take it and run.

  “How is Ever doing, Marlo? I sent Jeffrey my condolences, but I was only able to leave him a voicemail. Such a tragedy,” Oliver says, shaking his head and mashing his lips into a thin line.

  Now, why didn’t I ask Oliver from the beginning? It completely slipped my mind that he and Jeffrey are friends. I’ve been digging in the dirt all week when the answer has been sitting on the tip of my nose the entire time.

  Nice one, Low.

  “He’s not doing all that well,” I say as I shove my hands between my crossed legs to hide the fine tremor. I manage a tight smile. “I’m sorry, but I’m a bit in the dark about the specifics. I know something terrible happened last week, but I haven’t had a moment alone with Ever since.”

  I give Oliver an expectant look and wait for him to fill in the blanks. I’m practically salivating for whatever information he has, but thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice.

  “Yes, well, I can understand Ever not wanting to discuss it. I’m sure he’s devastated. How does one get over losing his twin brother? People always say the bond between twins is impenetrable. Two halves making a whole. How heartbreaking to lose the other half of yourself? So young…”

  Oliver takes a sip of scotch as I try to makes sense of his words.

  “Twin brother?” I ask. “Do you mean Easton?”

  “Yes,” Evelyn says with a nod. “Ever and Easton are twins.”

  Twins.

  Twins.

  Ever lost his twin…

  The weight of it, the sheer magnitude of his loss, sits like a block of cement on my chest, robbing my lungs of breath. I hear his words playing on a continuous loop in my head as he unraveled beside me in my dorm room just two weeks ago.

  I can’t breathe.

  Don’t let go.

  How will he find a way to breathe again without him? Every weekend. He spent every weekend with Easton. He never missed, not even once.

  We take care of each other.

  I run my hands over my eyebrows, down my cheeks until they make a tent over my lips, as if I’m praying. And maybe I am.

  Praying this is all a dream.

  Wishing I could make it go away.

  Hoping Ever can find his way through this.

  Begging God to give Ever a break.

  Can’t he get a fucking break?

  “I know Easton was … sick, but how did it happen?” I ask, only now realizing how little I know about his condition. Ever had always guided conversations away from this topic, and I’m not really sure why.

  Had he been ashamed of E
aston for some reason?

  No. Absolutely not. Nothing but pride and love had shone in his eyes at the mention of him. He would never have felt ashamed of him, I know that for sure.

  “He passed away suddenly, from a seizure,” Evelyn explains, her voice low and gentle.

  “It doesn’t make any sense,” I murmur, mostly to myself. “I don’t understand.”

  “Easton was born with cerebral palsy, and because of that, he had many struggles, including a seizure disorder. I’m not sure of the specifics, but I know he used a wheelchair and was mostly non-verbal. Something happened in the womb while Ever and Easton’s mother was pregnant. Most of the blood supply shifted to one baby, while the other got very little.” Oliver grimaces and shakes his head. “I’m certain I’m not explaining it right—I’m no doctor—but the gist of it is one baby starved while the other flourished. Easton started his struggle before he was even born. It’s tragic … so tragic.”

  I shut my eyes and try to digest all this new information, but I can’t hear a thing over the static in my mind.

  I ruin the ones I love.

  Ever flourished while Easton suffered.

  I’m like a leech that sucks people dry.

  He believes the blame lies with him.

  Everything I touch turns to shit.

  It’s like ice water thrown in my face … a line drive straight to the gut … a revelation I want to reject, because … no. If what Oliver says is true, if these are indeed the pieces of the puzzles clicked firmly into place, Ever will never overcome the guilt of simply living. Breathing in and out will be a privilege he doesn’t believe he deserves.

  It’s too big of a burden for the strongest of men, much less the most broken of boys.

  Ever…

  I lay in bed that night, finger hovering over the send button, wishing I knew the magic bullet that would pierce Ever’s steely resolve. I don’t understand why he’s determined to go through this alone. He needs someone, even if it’s not me, to walk down this awful road with him. No one should shoulder this type of grief all on their own.

  I wish I could erase the image of his glassy eyes and fumbling limbs, too high and too numb to feel a damn thing. There’s no such thing as moving on without dealing with the demons … it just doesn’t work that way. I’ll never understand the loss he feels, but I’m beginning to think neither can he. He’s on an endless search for numb, and I see the crash landing from a mile away.

  The truth is, there is no magic bullet. There is only me, him, and the truth. Or at least the truth as I see it. As I punch “send,” I only hope he can hear me over his guilt.

  Me: Broken Ever sat on a wall,

  Broken Ever had a great fall,

  All the king’s horses and all the king’s men

  Knew Marlo would put him together again.

  Tomorrow night 7 pm at Evelyn’s

  Just me and you

  Let me help…

  Marlo

  I STEP INTO Creole Market with a singular goal in mind—grab Ever’s favorite things in hopes that:

  1. He’ll find solace in comfort food, because food is love. At least that’s what Nana says.

  2. I’ll replace some of the lbs. that were sorely lacking last time I saw him.

  A link of boudin and crackers? Check.

  Spicy pickled green beans? Check.

  Salted caramel ice cream with shaved mocha flakes? Check.

  Looking at the groceries bundled in my arms, it occurs to me that Ever is one anchovy pizza away from preggo.

  “Where’s the party, and am I invited?” Remy asks as I place the food on the counter. He rings up the items, one by one, placing them in a paper bag.

  “I’m afraid this is for a party of two … at least I hope it is. The two being Ever and me.” I catch Remy’s almost imperceptible flinch, and my heart sinks. “What, did he say something to you? Have you seen him today?”

  “Uh, yeah, I saw him early this afternoon before I left for work. He was parked on my couch watching a Teen Mom marathon.”

  Huh, I guess preggo is too busy getting parenting advice from MTV to text me back. I know there’s a chance he won’t show tonight since he never answered me back, but I’m doing my best to stay optimistic.

  “Sounds … important,” I say, grabbing my grocery bag from the counter and hugging it to my chest.

  Remy shrugs, looking sympathetic. “Ever is having a tough time figuring out what’s important right now.”

  “That’s one thing I never used to worry about with Ever,” I say, frowning.

  Unwavering. That’s how I would describe Ever, at least until a couple of weeks ago. Losing Easton tilted his world completely off its axis. It’s obviously left him lost and confused.

  “Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” Remy says, and I narrow my gaze at the smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

  “Stumbled.”

  “What?”

  “He may have stumbled, but he hasn’t fallen.”

  I stomp to the door, ignoring him as he calls out to me, frustrated that he has such little faith in his friend. Irritated that there may be a tiny part of him that’s enjoying this. Sometimes I feel as if Remy is on Ever’s side, and other times, I feel like he’s patiently waiting for the crash and burn.

  Eight o’clock. One hour late with no call or text, and I force myself to face the inevitable.

  He’s not coming.

  There’s a hollowness in my chest as I picture him laying on Remy’s crusty couch, zoned out to mindless television instead of facing me. He used to escape with me, used to find solace in the time we spent together, and now he can’t get far enough away.

  I should eat the snacks I bought while studying for my finals, and forget I even asked him to come over. I should forget him.

  Yeah, I’m not gonna do that.

  I’m through the door and down the sidewalk before giving it a second thought. Determination resounds with every stomp of my foot on the pavement. Irritation whistles with every swing of my arms. Anger bellows with every huffed breath blowing out of my flared nostrils.

  I push the doorbell to Remy’s apartment with undue force, as if my intensity will result in a louder ringing. Remy’s head peers through the front door, then he trudges to the gate, hands shoved into his jean pockets. He stops at the gate without opening it, shakes his head, and gives me a grim smile.

  “He’s not here?” I ask, frustrated at coming up empty again.

  “He left just a little while ago,” Remy says softly.

  “Where?”

  “A club a few blocks over.”

  I throw my hands up in frustration. “Well, what are we waiting for? Come on, show me.”

  I grab onto the bars and rattle the gate, already turning back to the road when Remy’s hands wrap around mine. I pull away, but he doesn’t let go.

  “What, Remy? We need to go,” I plead, pulling from the grip of his hands on mine, ignoring the resigned look in his eyes.

  “Low, he … maybe just let it go for tonight. Try to call him tomorrow, okay?”

  I hate the placating tone of his voice, like I’m a hyper puppy he’s trying to quiet. The calmer his voice, the higher my annoyance climbs. I growl, using all my weight to rip my hands from his.

  “Are you going to help me or not?” I yell.

  “He didn’t leave alone, Low!” he hollers back, giving the iron gate a hard shove. “He wasn’t alone.” He voice is barely a whisper this time, but I flinch at the sound.

  I close my eyes and picture him, arm slung around a faceless girl’s shoulder as they stroll down the sidewalks of the Quarter, laughing … smiling … kissing. Does he bite her lip, making shivers run up her spine? Does he … will he…

  I grab onto the fence for balance as a sob wretches it’s way through my body like a thunderous wave. Before the second sob overtakes me, the gate opens and I’m in Remy’s arms. I grab his forearms, claw at his shirt, squeeze my eyes shut and wretch.

  How could he?<
br />
  How could he?

  How could he?

  Remy and I fumble down the alleyway and climb the porch stairs as one clumsy unit since I continue to clutch on to him like my life depends on it. He grips my waist with one hand and smooths my hair with the other.

  “Shhh, it’s going to be all right, Low,” he whispers as he places me on the couch … the same couch Ever vegged out on just hours ago.

  And with that, a fresh batch of tears sprout. I bring my knees to my chest and lay my head on top, wanting to curl up into a ball, just disappear from it all.

  Remy brushes my hair off my face, and meets my swollen eyes. “Hey, he doesn’t deserve you, okay? I never thought he did.”

  I shake my head, my temple knocking clumsily on my kneecap with the motion. “It’s not like that. If all of this wouldn’t have happened to him, things would be different. This isn’t him, I know it.”

  Why am I still defending him? Why, after everything he’s done to show me he doesn’t care about me or anything else, do I still find reasons to believe in him? It hurts, it kills to admit it, but the answer is simple.

  Because I love him. No matter what he’s done.

  Remy flicks his wrist and rolls his fingers like a magician. A joint appears out of thin air, and his eyes widen in surprise. I giggle despite myself and watch as he places fire to paper. After a long drag that he pulls in through his lips and blows out through his nose like an angry dragon, he passes it to me. I don’t hesitate. This time, I feel like Ever, getting high to escape, but I can’t muster the energy to care. I need something to round out the rough edges of the hurt he’s caused.

  I just need something.