By the time the ambulances got to the beach, Joel was already gone.

He’d been in that water too long, trapped under the car he’d flipped into the ocean. If it wasn’t the head wound, it was the lack of oxygen to his lungs and brain that did it. When the doctors had explained that to my father and I, I was so numb. It’s the only way I can remember the cold, matter-of-fact description that they’d given us.

My twin had died while drunk driving our shared Jeep around the beach for a joy ride. He thought it would be funny to show off for everyone. Except he was so wasted that he couldn’t differentiate from the brake pedal and the gas, and ended up flipping end over end before crashing down into the ocean.

The way I heard the story after, Carson had scolded him about being reckless, but let him go. He’d wanted to get to me at the Horse Shack. So he told Joel not to do it, but in the end had stood by while my brother made the worst decision of his short life.

He’d signed my brother’s death warrant, and I’d never forgive him for letting Joel get in the car that night.

But that voice, that little nagging voice that had been in the back of my head for ten years, since Joel died and I’d driven Carson from this island, said otherwise. I’d been the one that night who’d wanted to go to the Shack. Who didn’t want to spend time at the party, who didn’t want to watch after Joel. I was the one who’d refused to get in between him and the partying, stood by as he turned into a reckless young man. I didn’t want to bother looking after my brother, only cared about spending time with my boyfriend.

His death was partially my fault. And for that, I’d never forgive myself.

Carson had the physical scars to prove his guilt; it had taken forty-two stitches to close the gaping wound on his arm, inflicted by the bent piece of metal he’d scraped it on while dragging Joel from the water.

But I had the mental scars. I’ve gone over that day in my head a million times, wishing I did something differently. That I’d talked to Joel before then, intervened in the wild behavior he was exhibiting.

For the first few years, I’d ripped at myself, splitting what was left of my soul into pieces over losing not one, but two men. The day after the accident, I said the most heart-wrecking things to Carson, and he’d fled to Boston that day. They’d shipped him his high school diploma; he never heard the in memoriam speech for Joel at our graduation.

When Daddy insisted I stay the course and follow my plan to attend college, I’d obliged simply because it meant I got to get out of my own personal hell. But I’d fallen victim to the kind of people who preyed on the weak, and I wasn’t strong enough to get out from under them until my father came and saved me.

He was the only one I’d had left. And now he was gone too.

For the past couple of years, I had been simply going through the motions. Okay, it was a little bit more than that; I had the business and enjoyed my dog and occasionally read a book that made me feel something. But after that night ten years ago, I was never the same.

I couldn’t keep punishing myself like this, couldn’t keep holding onto this pain that felt like an anvil dragging me down by the neck. My brother, my other half, would have wanted me to live my life as fully as he did until the day he couldn’t anymore. The pain and sadness were a weight on my shoulders that now seemed to be cracking with every passing day that Carson stayed on this island.

I had never been forced to confront my demons. To hash things out or say out loud my part of the blame in the situation. But now that he was back, I felt compelled to. Like the universe was finally calling me to speak about the awful events that happened ten years ago just yards from my home.

So here I was, going to seek out the one person I’d told I never wanted to see them again. Not sure what it was, but my gut had an instinct that he’d be in the office on Saturday morning. I’d fed Rhett early and locked up my house, getting into my Jeep and driving slowly on the deserted beach highway.

When the car rolled past the spot I’d fallen to my knees on so many years ago, I had to suck in a breath and hold it. I passed the spot where Joel died so frequently that nausea washed over me if I even stepped onto the plot of sand that his car had been lodged in. But today, nothing came. A sense of rightness, like the hand of fate stroking a calming hand over my shoulders, settles over my bones.

As I pull into Corolla, the town is ghost-like. On a Saturday in the middle of October, there aren’t a lot of people around. This is the season that the island basically shuts down. With tourism as its foremost industry, summer was the big bucks season for a lot of businesses in this town.

I knew that with the North Carolina Wild Horse Association focused primarily on fundraising and tracking the horses during the winter. They had a few tours going on for people coming down here in the off-season, but that wasn’t their primary focus right now. They would be conducting research, tracking the harems, developing new ideas, and much more.

I knew this partially because Melissa had sent me some materials to get started on, and had given me a look into what the association was doing right now.

I swing my car into a parking spot, and see a familiar pickup sitting three spots down. The only occupied spot in the parking lot.

My pulse starts to thrum; I haven’t spoken to or seen Carson in a week. Not since the night that he tended to the injured horse. And kissed me like the sky was burning and the oceans were drying up. That kiss left me breathless for hours after he’d left. After I’d told him to leave. Again.

Walking into the building is like walking into a memory. I spent a lot of time here as a child, learning about the horses and playing in the nooks and crannies.

I spot Carson as soon as I walk into the main room, and my heart seizes. It’s incredible that this man can still make me feel like I’m a thirteen-year-old girl in front of the Horse Shack, waiting to be kissed.

“Hi,” I call out, suddenly awkward and shy.

His head turns, although I know he knows my voice. His mocha brown eyes look me up and down, and my neck flushes a hot red. Even with the mountain of tension between us, there are still sparks threatening to ignite.

“Hi.” He looks like he wants to say more, and I wave a hand to let him know it’s okay. “What … I … I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

He’s stuttering, and it’s adorable. And for the first time since he’s been back, I consider that maybe he’s just as scared as I am.

A silly thought comes over me. “Well, I am working for you now, so I guess I have to see you sometime.”

Carson smiles, and the genuine nature of it almost bowls me over. If possible, he’s gotten more magnetic in the past ten years.

I put a serious expression on. “I think we should talk.”

He stands and walks toward me, pulling out a nearby desk chair and waving for me to sit. “That’s all I’ve wanted since I got back.”

I take a seat, and he pulls out a chair opposite me. A beat passes, and I collect my thoughts. This is going to hurt. It’s opening a wound, flaying a cut that is already raw and bleeding.

“I blame you.” I whisper it, because suddenly, I feel ashamed for all of the horrible feelings I’ve held onto for ten years.

I can’t look at him, but hear Carson speak. “I blamed me too. You have no idea, Blake.”

But I did. Because I also blamed myself. And I had to come clean, wash away the sins marring my soul.

“I do, because I also blame myself. If I hadn’t … if I hadn’t insisted on leaving that party, maybe he would still be alive. If we’d done something before that, talked to Joel, tried to help, maybe …”

I have to stop my speech, because it feels like I’m taking a knife to my heart and carving my brother’s name into it.

I feel a hand on my own, and tingles run all the way up my spine. It forces me to look up, to face Carson’s stare. And when I find it, it’s not what I think at all. My pre-conceived notions fly out the window, because Carson isn’t angry. His face does not hold distaste or rage.

No. He’s wearing a small smile, and his eyes are kind and warm.

“I said blamed, past tense. It took me a long time to forgive myself to really look at the events of that night and go over them. But when I finally did, I realized that I wasn’t at fault. I wasn’t to blame for Joel’s death. If anything, I loved you both too much. I loved him like a brother, and because of it, let him get away with things that I shouldn’t have. We both did. He was going down a path that led towards destruction, and because we wanted him to keep on loving us in that way of his, we stayed silent. But that wasn’t on us, what happened wasn’t on us. I tried to save him, almost lost a limb because of it. I loved him and would never wish him harm, and it wasn’t my fault he died. And it wasn’t your fault either. It took me a long time to get here, but maybe I can help you see. You only loved him, Blake. You’re not the reason he’s gone, and need to stop convincing yourself you are.”

By the time he’s done speaking, my cheeks are wet with tears. Something inside of me has broken, and the floodgates of hate and guilt are streaming through me, out of me.

“I miss him so much. It’s like a part of me was hacked off.” I squeeze his hand that was only resting on mine until now.

Carson swallows, and I watch the motion in his throat. “I miss him too, more than I can even express. But maybe … maybe it’s time we start celebrating who he was in our life rather than grieving about that awful night.”

I can’t help but choke on the sobs clogging my throat. “I don’t know how.”

He runs his hand up and down my arm. “Because you’ve never tried.”

Anger simmers up in me again. “You never tried to come back. You never fought for me. I feel like, after Joel was gone, you abandoned me.”

He drops my hand then, his face pained. “Don’t you remember our last conversation? You told me you’d never be able to look at me again. You told me to get out of North Carolina and never come back.”

I slap my hands against my legs. “I was in pain, it was the day after my brother died! I didn’t know what I was saying, how I was lashing out. And you never came back! You just left me, alone here without either of you! What was I supposed to do but dissolve into a shell of a person?”

Carson pulls his wallet out, searching for something. I wipe my cheeks, a flurry of emotions making my body go hot and cold.

“I never forgot you. Ever.”

He holds out a picture, one that is crinkled and worn with age. I take it, blinking away the tears in the corners of my eyes. Staring at it, I realize … it’s us. Carson and I, when we were about sixteen, sitting on the hood of his pickup. I remember the day; it was a Saturday in July just before our junior year of high school. It had been bright and sunny, one of those days that was too perfect for words. We’d spent all day in the water, surfing and playing around.

“That was the best day,” I whisper, remembering him and Joel trying to show off on their boards.

“I’ve had that in my wallet since the day it was taken. I look at it every time I open it. I never forgot you, Blake. I never stopped thinking about you. But I couldn’t come back here, not until I was ready. One of us had to be ready.”

My heart twinges with what feels like … hope. Slowly, with each day of him being here, possibilities opened up. What they were, I wasn’t sure of. But he was, and maybe he was right. One of us had to be.

“Thank you. Thank you for showing me this. It reminds of the person I once was.”

He smiles and takes both of my hands in his again. “You still can be, you know.”