The Missing - Kiersten Modglin (the reading strategies book TXT) 📗

“Can I…can I ask what happened to your brother?” He didn’t look at me, but I watched his jaw tense. “You don’t have to tell me if that’s too personal—”

“We were in the car with my mom. It was Theo’s fourth birthday. We’d pulled into the driveway, and he unbuckled his seat… I didn’t think anything of it; he did it all the time. Mom didn’t see him in time. He was holding on to the door… I remember Dad standing on the porch. Theo was banging on the window waving at him… Somehow he grabbed hold of the handle, and the door opened. He fell face-first… Mom reached for him, but it all happened so fast. He was crushed by the tire before she had time to stop.” The visions of the story swept over me as he replayed them, each moment of the scene that must’ve played out, the guilt his mother must live with, the pain of his father watching it unfold from feet away, powerless to do anything.

“That’s terrible…” I managed to squeak out. His face was solemn, despite blinking through tears that trailed down his cheeks. He didn’t bother wiping them away, and I wondered how many times he must’ve had to relive the event aloud. “I’m so sorry, Noah. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s hard to talk about him.” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down with a hard swallow. Finally, he looked over, meeting my eyes. “But it’s good to talk about him, too. My parents…they…they couldn’t talk about him. Still can’t. My mom couldn’t walk past his pictures for years without falling apart. It’s…I don’t know if it ever won’t be raw. For any of us.”

I stood up without volition, making my way toward him and wrapping an arm around his back. He stiffened slightly under my touch but didn’t shrug me off or push me away. Instead, he went back to watching the fire.

“I’m still coming to grips with the fact that I’ll probably never see them again. And, I think what terrifies me the most about that, is knowing that they’ll have to go through losing their only other son. I don’t think they’ll survive it.”

“They aren’t going to lose you,” I promised, the words eerily similar to what I’d said to Harry the night before. I forced the thought away. “We’re going to find our way home.”

“I know you want to believe that, but I just don’t see how.”

I fought back bitter tears. “I just have to believe it. I can’t give up. Not yet…”

“Have you ever lost anyone?” he asked, turning his face toward me. “Anyone you were close to?”

I shook my head, almost regrettably. “No, not really. Both sets of my great-grandparents died when I was really young, but I don’t remember them all that much. Just pictures and stuff. And there’ve been a few of my classmates who’ve died since we graduated. Nothing like what you’ve experienced… I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry you haven’t lost anyone?” he asked with a small grin.

“I’m sorry you have.”

He jutted his chin toward Harry’s grave. “Well, now we both have.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” It didn’t feel equal, not really, but was there a way to measure grief? To decide who felt more pain? My pain felt significant in that moment. I couldn’t imagine—and didn’t want to—how Noah must’ve felt the day he lost his brother, and so many days after that. The pain was unbearable to even think about.

“I don’t want to be,” he said, his eyes lingering on mine for a second too long. I looked down, my face burning with embarrassing heat. I needed to move away from him. We were too close. Why had I moved to be near him after what had happened in the woods? “Don’t worry. I’m not going to kiss you.” It was as if he’d read my mind. I guess I hadn’t done a great job of hiding it.

“I wasn’t thinking that…”

“Yeah, you were.” His determined stare was an obvious dare to get me to look at him, but I couldn’t. He’d see only shame there, because the truth was, I had enjoyed the kiss. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought of doing the same thing since he’d saved my life in the jungle on that second day. But what did it matter? I had a husband. Feelings like what I was having were not allowed.

“Harry said he thought you had a thing for me,” I admitted, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear and staring at the fire with unyielding concentration.

“Harry wasn’t wrong.”

I looked at him then, unable to resist the pull of his gaze any longer when plagued by the truth in his words. “I never knew…” I lied.

“Yes, you did. But it didn’t matter before, when I thought you were married and we were going home.”

“I am married,” I said firmly, “and we are going home.”

His eyes softened, and he cocked his head to the side slightly. “You are married, but we may not be going home. And sooner or later, we all have to come to grips with that.” He looked away then, patting his leg. “Look, I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. If you want to stay loyal to your husband for the rest of time, more power to you, but all I’m saying is there’s a very real chance we aren’t making it off this island. There’s a very real chance we could all die tomorrow. Or next week. Or the week after. James and Ava got that. They’re taking advantage of every moment they have on this island… They’re having fun—”

“I wouldn’t call any of what we’re doing fun—”

“They’re having the most fun they can, then,” he said. “And I don’t see why we can’t do the same.”

“So, because we’re the only other two on the island, I should sleep with you?”

He scoffed. “No, you should sleep with me because we’re on a