“I’m so sorry, Aubrey. That’s horrible,” Ana whispers, shaking her head. Tears stream down her face, and she shivers, partially from the cold and partially from the feelings the story stirs up. “I–I never knew, Aubrey. Oh, God, that’s just terrible.”

I nod, feeling tears burn my eyes. “It was awful. We left right then. I remember it being such a mad rush. I dumped my school backpack in the floor and threw a change of clothes in it and ran out the door. Angie and her family were a state away, so we went to the airport and showed up to the hospital ready to help however we could.”

Ana looks hesitant but asks anyway. “Angie and the baby? Are they . . . okay?”

I shake my head, looking up at the stars and preparing myself for the next part of the story.

“No. Angie was in preterm labor, and they couldn’t get the contractions to stop. We stayed at the hospital for days, a week or two maybe. Basically, holding vigil, praying and willing everything to be okay. It didn’t work. Angie lost the baby.” The words are foreign on my tongue. I don’t think I’ve ever actually said them out loud, and the pain burns fresh at the lost piece of my brother.

Ana gasps, the sound breaking me from the memories of the past that threaten to drag me back down. “No. Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. Angie?”

“She’s okay . . . now. She wasn’t for a long time. And she had to pull away from us for a while to heal. I think she felt so much guilt even though none of it was her fault. It was just a lot of loss for her all at once, and whatever she needed to do to stay sane, we understood and gave her some space. I think she talks to my parents every once in a while. I’m not sure.”

“You don’t know? What about you in this whole story?” Ana asks.

As bad as the first part of this story is, it was largely beyond my control. The next part? It’s my fuckup . . . all mine. I hope Ana can forgive this part.

“So, when we were waiting in the hospital, I felt so useless. I couldn’t save Gabe, I couldn’t save his girl, I couldn’t save his baby. And I know that’s stupid. I was just a kid and none of it was my responsibility. But I felt this pressure deep inside, this need to do something. To make Gabe proud, help him, or maybe help some other family so they never had to go through this like we were. So I . . .” I gulp, not able to say the words that turned my path so sideways.

Ana reaches out, touching my hand. I look to her, seeing that her eyes are soft and teary, waiting and ready for whatever I’m going to say without judgment. I can’t hold her eyes when I say it, letting my gaze drop. “I enlisted.”

“What? Aubrey, you were in the military? I had no idea!” Her shock is palpable, as real to me as the weight I’ve been carrying on my shoulders for so long.

“I was. Did one tour. My parents were . . . less than thrilled. Actually, they tried to undo it, but I was eighteen and I’d already signed. They’d lost, or possibly lost, one son to the military and had no desire to risk their other. But I needed to do it for Gabe. We had a huge blowup fight because they didn’t understand, said I was being impulsive and stupid. They were probably right, but it was ugly, all of us taking our grief out on one another, unable to handle Gabe being MIA. We’ve never been okay since then, rarely talk, actually. Carlotta is the only family I interact with anymore.”

Ana bites her lip. “I remember your family as so close-knit. When you disappeared that night, I tried to track you down, but your whole family was gone. No one knew what had happened. You just never came back, not for classes or graduation, and you never enrolled at Oregon. When a moving truck showed up to your house, the whole town was talking, and I interrogated the movers, but they didn’t know anything.”

“Yeah, there was some Senator’s son who was all over the news about that time, so a military loss wasn’t exactly hot for the media. As for the house, that was over the summer, right? I was already gone by then. I think Dad just hired it out because Mom couldn’t go back to that house, said Gabe was in every wall and piece of furniture and she couldn’t bear to look at it all. As far as I know, they’ve never been back to Great Falls. I go as little as possible, just for work, mostly. Too many memories there.”

Ana flinches at my words. “There are a lot of good memories there too, Aubrey,” Ana says softly.

Flashes of memories overwhelm me . . . Gabe and me sledding down the big hill when we got fresh snow, my family watching fireworks on the fourth of July, camping in the backyard with Gabe when we were little and here in the mountains when we were older. There’s also Ana . . . our first date after I won the game for her, the way she’d light up every time she saw me in the hallways like she was surprised I was talking to her again, the fumbling way we’d learned about each other’s bodies, the intensity with which I loved her, sure and certain the way only an untested teenager can be.

“I know, I just couldn’t go back. I did my four years, saw and did shit I never would’ve imagined, which sometimes made me feel closer to Gabe and sometimes made me feel even further away from the boy he knew and loved. I kept thinking he was going to pull some Rambo-style shit and come busting out of those mountains in a helicopter. Never happened, and eventually, they declared him Killed In Action. When I got out, I was lost in a dark hole, didn’t care about anything or anyone because the world just didn’t feel right without Gabe in it. So I bounced around a bit, ended up selling cars, something I never would’ve imagined. But I was decent at it, my lack-of-fucks-given attitude surprisingly coming across as no-nonsense, which put people at ease. But when I got the chance to buy this place, I jumped at it, escaping my job, escaping my past, escaping my life.”

Ana lets out a surprised laugh, light and bright in the heaviness of the air. “A car salesman? I don’t mean to be rude, especially considering everything else you just said, but that’s definitely not something I ever thought you’d do.”

I laugh a bit too, a welcome reprieve as the tension breaks.

Ana shakes her head, sighing hollowly. “I can’t believe this, Aubrey. And I thought I went through hell. I wish I could’ve been there for you. I would have understood. I loved you.”

I pick up a pebble and toss it into the pond, watching the ripples spread in the moonlight. “I should have told you, first thing. But after I waited too long, I didn’t want to ruin what we had with the person I’d become. I truly hoped you’d moved on and had a happy life, all the things we’d wanted and dreamed of, with someone able to give you that. Because I couldn’t.”

She takes a deep breath and looks at me, her eyes filled with more than sadness but also hurt and anger. “All the ignoring in the world won’t make a heart heal faster . . . or an ankle,” Ana says. “Is that what you’re doing to yourself? Isolating yourself to take the pain inside and punish yourself?”

“For a long time, I definitely did that. I distracted myself with work and pain.” The admission is a truth I hadn’t fully realized until it popped out of my mouth.

“And now?”

“I think I’m doing better now. Seeing you and being with you have given me a passion for life again. I want you, Ana. I want to be with you. I’ve been given a second chance, and I’m not going to let go this time. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it happen,” I say, strength and determination filling my voice.

“But before I got here? Were you still stuck in the past or were you doing well? I think we both know the answer to that, Aubrey,” she says, and I can feel the distance between us even though we’re sitting inches away from each other.

“Ana—”

“I just . . . that’s a lot of pressure, Aubrey. I haven’t seen you for ten years, and now that I know what happened, I’m not as angry as I was. I understand, I do. But like we said, we’re different people now, and I don’t know if I’m this saving angel you want me to be. I’m not your Sweet Ana, the kind, giving, trusting girl who loved you with her whole heart.” Her voice has a tinge of sadness, the loss of that innocent girl apparent in her eyes.

I shake my head. “But you are. You stepped right up to help with my ankle, saving me from my own stupidity. And I know you feel this too.” I take her hand, pressing it to my chest, letting her feel the steady thump of my heart, knowing that it beats for her. “My heart . . . it’s always been yours. You can’t tell me that’s not true for you too, that it’s not why you’re still alone.”

“I just don’t know if that’s where I’m at yet. I want this. The little girl in me wants this so fucking bad, Aubrey. But a week ago, you didn’t want me here, then you wanted just casual, and now—” She’s holding up her fingers as she lists the supposed progression of my feelings, but I interrupt her.

I grab her hand, locking my fingers through her raised ones and pressing them to the blanket as I push her down to her back, looming over her. My voice is hard, leaving no doubt. “I never wanted casual. From the moment I saw you, I was all in, scared as fuck that you’d run, and fighting my instincts to lock you in my cabin and never let you leave, force you to listen to me, and understand. To forgive me. I tried to be casual so I wouldn’t scare you.”

Her eyes flash fire, but I don’t know what it is . . . anger, maybe? “I’m not scared of you.”

I reward her, or maybe it’s punishment, I’m not sure, but I take her mouth, devouring her, needing to reassure myself that she’s still here, hasn’t run away yet after hearing what happened all those years ago. She kisses me back, her tongue fighting with mine, giving just as aggressively as I am. When she relaxes, the fight draining from her, I pull back slowly as I watch for signs she’s feigning. I press my forehead to hers, the puffs of our heated breaths mingling in the cold air around us.

“See, Ana? It’s us. Nobody else does that to you, I know they don’t. It’s supposed to be us. It was always supposed to be us. I fucked it up, and I’m so sorry, but I swear, I’ll make it up to you.”

She bites her lip, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes to run back into her hair as she shakes her head. “Aubrey, I need time. I gave you everything and you took ten years. You left me alone, confused, feeling like I wasn’t enough. After a while, I knew that something had happened, and I could’ve helped you, would’ve helped you with anything. But you didn’t let me. And now, you want me to just turn on a dime and bring back these emotions like no time has passed. I just . . . I need time. Please.”

It’s the please that does it. Ana shouldn’t have to plead, not to me, not for anything. I sit back, letting her hands go after I help her sit up. “Okay. Time? Take whatever you need, Ana. Because I’m not going anywhere. I’m here . . . right here for you. And I’m not letting you go this time, not for anything.” It’s a promise, a new one. I don’t have a ring, but it’s just as serious of a commitment as the last promise I made her. And I intend to fulfill it, along with the previous one, however long it takes.

Ana stands up, offering me her hand. “Can we go back? I think I’m going to stay with Trey and Brad tonight. I need to get my head on straight, do some thinking. Everything you’ve told me tonight . . . it’s a lot to process.”

I take her hand, flipping it over to kiss her palm. “Do you know how to get back? I’d like to stay here a bit, maybe talk to Gabe.” I look over at the lake, a memory coming like a shockwave of the time we went fishing right over . . . there. A small smile hints at my lips as I remember how he’d told the story over and over again, the fish getting bigger every time.

Ana looks skeptical, her eyebrows furrowed. “Are you sure you’re okay out here by yourself? I can get to the cabin just fine, but I don’t want to leave you if you’re upset.”

“I’m fine, but like you said, it’s a lot. And it’s been a while since I’ve even thought about some of that stuff. Saying it was a first.” I give her a slight smile, hoping she sees the difference she’s made in me after such a short time. I know I was a grumpy asshole, more grunts than words, as Carlotta always reminded me. But tonight, I’ve spoken more words than in the ten years before combined, and each one was from my heart.

As Ana walks away, making her way carefully back toward the cabins, I turn my face to the sky once again. “Hey, Gabe. How you doing, big brother?”