Rob was friends with Louis. Louis, the guy who was dead because of my dad. Kev looked at me, watching my face intently as I processed this information. "What was Louis like?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. It was information I didn't need to hear, but I couldn't help it. The stories I heard were a painful reminder of a life cut too short, and I could feel the pain and even the guilt in my heart with every mention. 

I had to hear about Louis.

Kev frowned, but told me, anyway. "He was a freshman when Rob was a sophomore. They got along well, I guess. Like I said, I only met Rob once and never met Louis. I met Rob when we both showed up at football tryouts for varsity in our junior year. Louis kept to himself until he got to his junior year, and then he started dating the girl he ended up marrying." He shrugged. "I don't know anything else about either of them, to be honest."

I nodded. It was all I could do, really. There was a lump in my throat. Louis had kids. More than a wife, he had kids that depended on him. I rubbed my face hard. "Do you think he could be mad at Ben for our father killing his friend?"

Kev was looking at me with concern. "I mean, anything is possible. Brenda, are you okay?"

I nodded, lowering my hands. "Yeah." No. I wasn't going to be okay. Not ever. Not after this. Not after what my father did. "I just can't talk about this any more right now." I sipped some of my drink and and sat back. "We're going on our ski trip in a few days or so. I'm looking forward to it actually. I was going to wax my board when I get home, make sure it's ready to ride."

"Where are you going this year?"

"To the highest resort we can get into. That way we'll have plenty of good powder to ride." He nodded and we lapsed into an awkward silence. Fortunately our food came soon after and we had the excuse of eating to not talk. 

By the time we were getting ready to leave, I'd processed everything enough to calm down. "Is it possible to find out how Rob and Louis are connected?" I asked once we were outside, on our way back to the station.

Kev shrugged. "There is, but you'd have to ask questions."

I raised an eyebrow. "I'd rather not deal with strangers, to be honest."

"I can't go talk to Louis' family or Rob. Not without a lawful reason, anyway."

I stopped walking. Kev noticed and stopped after a couple of steps. I could feel the familiar claw of anxiety raising up, preparing to come down on me. "I can't talk to his family," I said, hearing the beginning of panic in my voice. I couldn't. I really couldn't. How do you even manage to talk to the family of the man your father killed? I was scared of them. Thinking about facing them to ask them about their loved one was so much scarier than facing down a huge slope for the first time when I was twelve and Ben took me to one of the highest, hardest ones at the resort and I practically begged him to not take me down it. 

Kev grabbed my shoulders gently. "Calm down, Brenda. Take a deep breath with me, okay?" I just nodded and breathed with him. I knew what he was trying to do, and I was thankful for it, but I hated that I needed it. I was mad with myself for showing weakness. It didn't take long for me to be calm enough to satisfy him. "Okay. How are you?"

I shook my head. "I don't think I can talk to them, and I think I need to go home. Thank you, but I'll have to see you later." I had somehow managed to hold onto my board the whole time, so I stepped around him, put it down, and rode home. 

---

Jimmy was a good guy. Truly. He was always one of those friends I relied on most for a fun time and right now I needed some fun. After riding home the day before, he invited me over to his for a gaming marathon. I felt so bad turning him down that I asked him to ride around town in the morning instead. What I didn't count on was being up at seven this morning and riding to meet him at the diner for breakfast, but here I am. 

I was half-asleep by the time I walked inside the place and found him sitting at a booth I could remember sitting at with him many times. I slide in and almost immediately he slides a cup of coffee across to me. "Thanks," I say. My eyes widen when I take a sip. "You remembered!"

A light blush settles on his cheeks. "You kind of drilled it into me," he says. 

"Fair enough," I say before taking another sip and savoring it. It's been a long while since I've had a chance to get coffee here, so long that I had forgotten how good their coffee is. "So," I say once I've ingested enough coffee to properly wake me up. "Tell me about school."

He frowns. "Why do you want to know about that?"

I shrug, taking another sip. "It's been a big part of the last couple of years of your life, so I want to know more about it. We haven't talked since you left."

He plays with the fork in front of him. "Well, I dropped out last year, so it's not that big of a part. I mean, it was okay, I guess."

I nearly spit out my coffee. "You dropped out? Why? I thought you were excited to go!"

He presses his lips together. "I was." He fiddles a little more with the fork before sighing and sinking a little in his seat. His eyes wander to the window. "Things change, Brenda. I know that you know that." He looks back at me.

I don't take offense at his words - they're true, after all. I know better than some people how much things can change. "Why did they change?" I ask quietly.

He studies me for a long moment before picking up the fork and studying it. "People are mean, Brenda. They don't take the time to try to understand anything that's going on." 

"What happened, Jim?" I ask gently.

He puts the fork down and immediately both of his hands drop into his lap. "Some of the kids in our grade also went to Denver. Remember?" I nod. "Well, they spread the word around that I did drama in high school, and the kids there that hated me on sight began telling me that I'd be better off giving up. That wasn't so bad. I mean, I have a lot of those same doubts. That's why I was majoring in English, anyway. If I can't be an actor I'm at least going to have something to do in that industry, and I figure writing a great script is a good place to start."

"Absolutely," I say, nodding. "You've got an amazing imagination."

He gives me a small smile. "Thank you," he whispers, briefly looking down at the table. "Well, anyway, I pointed that out to the one kid that was being the meanest to me. The next thing I knew, I was being bullied online for my awful writing. The other kid in the class that was on a scholarship got in on it. I found out later that they were bribed into it. Either way, it didn't take long for me to seriously regret ever going there. My scholarship was only for a year, so I got a job, moved into an apartment with some random people from another nearby college that had no idea who I was, and stayed with them until I finally came back here."

I study him for a long moment, trying to think of the best thing to say. "Why didn't you come back here?" I ask him timidly, unsure whether I should have asked that or not.

His smile then was warm, but passed in a moment. "I was afraid." He doesn't meet my gaze for a few moments, but when he does there's too many emotions in them for me to recognize any of them. "I look back now and I wish I had come back, but I was scared of what I would find. I didn't know if you were still here, or if my parents would let me move back in, or if any of my other classmates had come back and would ask too many questions."

I sink a little in my seat. "Sorry if I'm asking too many questions," I say in a small voice.

He reaches across the table and touches the back of my hand. The pads of his fingers feel hot. "No no, you're fine. I really don't mind telling you." I feel him look at me for a long moment before pulling his hand back. "I wanted to tell you, anyway." Another beat of silence, but this one feels heavy. I finally make myself look up at him and find him waiting there. I see it in his eyes before he says anything. "I know you may not want to continue spending time with me, and I wouldn't blame you, but I have to tell you, Brenda. You're the biggest reason I came back. I missed you. Badly. I couldn't stop thinking about you, and I don't really want to. I like you. A lot." He rubs the back of his neck. "I think I have for a very long time."

"You dated someone else," I point out.

He winces. "Yeah. I didn't think you felt the same, so went ahead and dated someone, but I do regret it."

I weigh his words as I study him. On the one hand, he did have a girlfriend. On the other, he did come back. Whether it's for me or not, I wasn't certain, but I did still like him. I had shoved all of that deep down and ignored it, but it was still there. My gaze drops down to the table, where his hand is still sitting. I reach over and lace my fingers with his. Our eyes meet. "I like you, too, Jimmy."

He gives me a goofy smile as we look as each other. "After breakfast, do you still want to go on that ride with me?"

"Of course," I say, raising an eyebrow at him. "Why wouldn't I?"

He shrugs, still smiling. "I don't know. I was just checking." He glances up and makes a motion with his head. The next thing I know a waitress comes up to the table. We give her our breakfast orders and I wait until she walks away to ask him a question that's nagging me.

"Did you tell her to wait for us to talk before coming to get our orders?" I ask, smirking at him.

He blushes. "Maybe."

---

By the time Jimmy and I were heading back to my house, we'd spent about four hours talking. I loved hearing stories about his professors and housemates, and he wanted me to tell him what it was like living with my brother. I left out all the parts about trying to figure out who did it with a little help from Officer Jarvis. It felt like it was just too much to tell him at the time since it was only our first date, our first day as a couple. 

We weren't official, but I found I was okay with that. I was having a hard time being brave about being together unofficially. It felt like everyone I cared the most about was being taken from me and I had to fight with the idea that what I was doing was stupid, that I was setting myself up to get hurt all over again. So four hours talking without an official commitment was enough for me for one day.

When we reached my house, I was trying to convince myself that I wouldn't get hurt, that I was far enough away in my heart that I wasn't in love with him.

We walked up to my door and he took my hand. I let him lift it and then he kissed the back of it. I sucked in a breath when I felt his lips meet my skin. He grinned at me, told me he'd text me that night, and rode away.

I stared at my hand, not entirely sure how my skin could still be tingling when nothing was still touching me, and I knew: my heart was in this, and I wasn't entirely sure I didn't want it to be.