Lucie

I preferred Dempsey's truck over the Subaru for a seemingly infinite amount of reasons. One was that the old Subaru's radio was staticky, likely due to the less-than-perfect antenna that we hadn't fixed in a decade. Another was the air conditioning, which was not reliable at all. It only worked on two modes: freezing cold or burning hot. Perhaps the most valid reason, however, was that it was clunky and awkward and loud, and often smelled like Chinese takeout.

Dempsey's truck had smelled like his subtle—and "super manly," as he'd called it—cologne, and like the pine air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror. The truck's radio was perfect, which meant good things when I had control of it and bad things when Dempsey did. The air conditioning also did its job with no problem, which was always a pro.

Dempsey's truck was also crushed to smithereens at the moment.

I missed it almost as much I missed him. The two went together. When I saw Dempsey, I saw him in the driver's seat, rolling down the window and patting the red door with a heavy hand. The metal thudded in response. Let's go home, Lulu, he'd say.

Jiya was meeting me at Dempsey and Caden's vigil. It was the last place I wanted to go, to be honest, but so was home, so I thought this the lesser of the two evils. I mean, my parents were acting super weird around me, not bringing up Dempsey or the accident. They were trying to act like everything was okay, which I didn't get. What was the point in lying to themselves? Reality was reality, no matter how hard one fought to warp its image.

Cian and Vinny also knew where I lived, and they were not on my "I Really Want to Talk to You" list. The problem with that was they had a rather vexing habit of showing up out of literal nowhere, especially Vinny. I knew, though I dreaded it, that I would end up speaking with the brothers, or at least one of them, in the next few days, as they didn't seem to know how to leave me alone. I was trying to postpone that date as much as possible.

Jiya seemed to be the only person I wanted to see at the moment. A part of me felt bad that I was keeping secrets from her. She should know, maybe, about Cian and Vinny, about what—rather, who—they were looking for. But would she just get in the way?

As I turned to park my car at the gathering, I let out a breath. There was a crowd of people here, many more than I'd expected would show up. Little candles shone along the fence like earthbound stars, dancing and flickering in the dark. Pictures of Dempsey and Caden lined the fence; an array of roses jutted through the wires. I got out of the Subaru, and Jiya, who had been watching me park across the street, approached me. She embraced me in a careful hug to avoid setting me on fire (thankfully), then handed me a candle and lit it with her own. She said, "Hey. How you feeling?"

I shrugged, watching the gathered people around me. This many people actually care...about my brother? About Caden? "Honestly? I'm surprised. I didn't think..."

I exhaled into the cool night air, which was laced with notes of smoke and salt. People moved silently around me, ducking their heads and murmuring prayers, setting roses down, lining the fences with little sticky notes of messily drawn hearts and crosses. I tried to take it all in. Something about the vigil made me feel better, somehow. Dempsey hadn't gotten a funeral, as his body was still somewhere unknown, but he got this. He got a community gathered for him, a community mourning for him, a community praying for his suffering family.

My heart thudded inside of my chest as Jiya sighed and took my hand in hers. She noticed my pulse pounding, and glanced at me. "It's okay, Lucie," she said. "It's okay. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

I wasn't thinking about Dempsey then, though. Vinny had popped into my head; I saw his blond head leaning over Dempsey's cross, shoulders bent towards the ground, his voice cracking as he spoke. I don't want to be just another young tragedy, he'd said. I want people to want to remember me, to build memorials and cry and feel something for me.

I looked up for a second, as if I expected him to be there, somewhere. He wasn't. What happened to you, Vinny? I wondered all of a sudden, frowning at the ground, at the moonlit flowers at my feet. Some had already began to wilt.

What had taken Vinny's life from him? Why did Cian freeze up whenever someone mentioned it? It was an accident. That's all he ever said. That's all either of them ever said.

I shook the thought away from my brain and bent down with a sigh, plucking a rose from the bouquet I'd purchased prior. I let it fall from my fingers; it landed underneath Dempsey's photo with a soft noise, kissing the grass. I felt Jiya's eyes on me as I stood again, lowering my head and staring into the yellow depths of the infinitesimal flame in my fingers. "For you, Dempsey," I whispered, then lifted my eyes, surveying my surroundings again. "And for Vinny, the mystery boy."

In the darkness, a grin grew on my face, and I was startled a moment later when I tasted tears on my lips. Carefully, I set my candle down and shoved my bouquet at Jiya. "Drop something off for Caden for me, okay? I'll be back in a second...I just..."

"Lucie," she said, but I had already vanished around the corner, running as fast as I possibly could in high-top shoes. I wasn't sure why I was running, just knew that I had to, that the act of taking one step after the other and forcing breath in and out of my chest was somehow comforting. I didn't have to think about Dempsey or Vinny or Caden; for once, I could think of nothing but going somewhere and going quickly.

Eventually, I stopped.

I crumbled against the exterior wall of a boutique long closed at this hour, wiping my eyes and trying to stop myself from sobbing, which was impossible. Tear after tear fell, and soon enough I stopped fighting and let them, buried my face in my hands and tried to breathe. There was one question in my brain that was relentless in its pursuit of an answer: Why? Why did things like this happen to people who didn't deserve it? Dempsey had still been in college; he'd been studying to be an engineer. He was sharp and he was intelligent and his future had been stolen from him in .7 seconds, it seemed. He cared more about his family than he did anything else in the world. And Caden; Caden was so young, and he'd had so much to live for. Vinny...

"I thought it was common knowledge not to go snooping around alleyways at night."

I froze, looking up. Vinny was standing there, a cautious smile on his face, his hands in the pockets of his seemingly eternal swim trunks. Even in the night, he was as luminescent as the candles at the vigil, pale and glowing like a distant street lamp. My voice sounded like a stranger's when I spoke. "I thought it was common knowledge not to talk to a girl when she's busy being pathetic."

His expression changed from caution to sympathy. He knelt down before me, his flaxen hair swept over so that it obscured one of his sky blue eyes. Up close, his youth was obvious, and it only pierced my heart that he'd never grow up. The question in my head pulsed again. "You're not pathetic, Lucie. I know you don't want to talk to me, but...I wanted to make sure you're okay. Evidently," he exhaled, "you're not."

"Exactly. I'm pathetic."

He sat down, folding his legs. "Mourning someone close to you does not make you pathetic. You should have seen Cian after I died," he told me, gesturing to himself. "He was a mess, and every time I showed up he told me to leave him alone, even though I was right there. I still don't understand him. My point is, there's no sense in hiding it. Cry. Talk to people. Scream into a pillow. It makes you feel better."

"Vinny..."

"Cian hates to see you hurt," he added, silencing me. I stared at him with wide eyes, sniffling. Vinny saw the astonished look on my face and grinned ruefully, his gaze flitting momentarily toward the tiny candles in the distance. "He told me so. He hated having to tell you about Dempsey. So don't shove us away, Lucie, don't shove him away. If you need someone..." He didn't finish.

He looked at me, expression sorrowful and somber. I watched as his intangible hand inched a bit closer, almost brushing my leg, but with a sigh of defeat he slid it back. Vinny didn't lift his eyes again. "Cian and I are here, and we're not going anywhere. Guess that's what I was trying to say."

"Vinny," I said, trying to demand his eye contact, which proved useless until my next sentence: "Why didn't you move on? You know, Cian told me he sends souls to the afterlife. So why are you here? Unfinished business?"

Vinny's eyes were saucers. It was obvious I'd caught him totally off guard. He frowned for a moment, then shrugged and sat back a bit. "It's a long story, Lucie, but let's just say I did it for Cian's sake."

From previous experience, I decided it unwise to press any further. My sobbing had ceased now, but my cheeks were puffy and I still felt strangely exhausted, as if my own despair and the act of trying to dispel it had scraped my energy away. I dropped my head again, watching Vinny tap his fingers against the concrete. I wondered then when was the last time he'd touched someone, but shoved the thought away. "Thank you, Vinny," I murmured.

I felt his gaze on me. "You deserve a support system," he said, "and I'm more than glad to offer it to you."

There was a long silence before the smaller Horne breathed a heavy exhale that made me look up. "Look," he said, "Cian's going to kill me for this. But I...I think there's something you deserve to know."