"Without you, the man that I want to be doesn't exist."
- Sam Witwer

Standing on the back porch, I watch as Evangeline prances through the yard. She's been with my family for almost two months now. It's hard to remember life before her. Despite the tragedy that brought her here, I'm grateful that she's with us. She's a little ray of sunshine in an otherwise dark world.

My older sister materializes beside me. "She's come so far," she says, gazing at Evangeline.

"She really has," I agree.

"And she looks so much like Raelyn," she adds. "It's a little eerie."

"Nah, Raelyn had red hair. Vange's is brown," I reply, eager to change the subject. I don't like talking about Rae. Every time I'm reminded of her, my stomach starts to hurt.

"It's in the eyes," Gemma tells me, shaking her head, "and not just the color. The way they twinkle when she's happy, the way they squint when she's upset or confused, the way they look at you so hard it's like she's staring into your soul... that's all Raelyn."

"Maybe. I don't know. You knew Raelyn better than I did." I take a seat on the steps. I'm too nauseous to stand.

She sits down beside me, a far-removed look in her brown eyes. "A lot of people think I knew Raelyn, but I don't think I did at all."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Just, you know, the fact that she committed suicide," she says after a lengthy pause. "I didn't see it coming, and I feel as if I should have. It's hard not to blame myself for what happened."

A poorly-timed chuckle escapes my lips. "Who are you, and what have you done with my sister?"

"Huh?"

"You went from calling Raelyn selfish to literally blaming yourself for her death. That's a pretty big change of heart," I remark.

She shrugs her shoulders. "Levi and I had a talk. I'm trying to be more open-minded and less judgmental."

"Probably not a bad idea."

"He's been through a lot. This whole situation has been one big trigger for him."

"Did you just use 'trigger' unironically?" I question my sister, shocked by her choice of words.

Her lips pull into a proud grin. "Yeah, I guess I did."

The crunch of tires on gravel sounds from the front of the house. Evangeline runs toward us, her cheeks flushed from the frigid air.

"What's up, kiddo?" I ask the six year-old

"Someone's here," she observes, looking past me.

"Benson told Mom and Dad he was gonna stop by. He said he had a surprise for all of us," Gemma says.

Immediately, I place my hands on Evangeline's shoulders and guide her up the steps. I don't want my older brother anywhere near her. "We should get you inside, Vange. Don't want you to get hypothermia."

"But I'm not even cold," she objects.

"Your rosy cheeks say otherwise."

Evangeline turns to Gemma, but I lead her toward the house before she can protest further.

Genetically, I have no idea what Benson is to Evangeline. It's always been assumed that Marco Diaz, Rae's high school boyfriend, got her pregnant and then bailed.

I'm the only person who has a reason to assume otherwise.

Either way, though, I don't want Benson getting too close to her. He's dangerous. I need to protect her, like I should have protected Rae.

I entertain Evangeline with video games to keep her distracted. Downstairs, Benson's loud, confident voice fills the kitchen. I try to ignore him, as I always do, but just his presence has me on edge. Whenever he's around, I feel like a frightened thirteen year-old boy all over again.

The bedroom door opens. I half-expect to see Benson. I exhale an audible sigh of relief when Gemma's silhouette fills the doorway.

"What's up?" I ask her.

"Can I talk to you in private for a sec?" she responds.

"Uh, okay." I pause the game and follow her into the bathroom. "Everything good, Gemma?"

"Not really," she admits. "Benson brought his new girlfriend over to meet the family."

Ah, of course. That must have been his big surprise. "That's great for him, I guess," I say with a nonchalant shrug of my shoulders.

"Yeah, for him," she goes on, "but not good for Evangeline. This girl, Alyx, could be Raelyn's twin. Mom noticed the resemblance, too."

That mother fucker.

"Are you serious?" I demand.

She silently nods her head in reply, a serious look on her face.

"Shit." I can feel my heart racing. I haven't been this angry since the day he assaulted Raelyn. "I can't believe he would do that."

"Bowie, it's okay. He probably didn't notice the similarities. I just don't want Evangeline to see Alyx and be reminded of her mother," Gemma explains.

Oh, but he did notice. It's safe to say that Benson has a thing for redheads with bright green eyes and dazzling smiles.

But I don't tell her that. I can't. Instead, I turn to my sister and say, "Yeah, you're right. Wanna go back downstairs and tell Benson that Evangeline and I aren't feeling well?"

"But I think Benson wants you to meet her. You're his brother. Out of all of us, your opinion matters most," she insists.

"I'll meet her some other time. I'd rather stay with Vange."

"Alright, then."

"Thank you. I appreciate it."

Gemma disappears. I return to Evangeline's room and shut the door behind me, eager to put a physical barrier between us and Benson.

I hate him. My whole life, I've never hated anyone more.

<>*<>*<>*<>*<>

I can feel Zayna's eyes on me as I scrub this morning's dishes. Her golden glare is penetrating the back of my head so hard, I'm surprised I don't have two oval-shaped holes in my skull.

We haven't spoken in weeks, not since our awkward bedroom encounter. She's been too angry, and I've been too distracted. I want to talk to her. I miss her like hell. I just... I don't know. Maybe I'm too messed up to be in a relationship.

Maybe I'm too messed up for Zayna.

"You missed a spot." She saunters toward me and picks up the coffee mug I just scrubbed clean. "There's still gunk on the handle."

"Thanks." It's spotless, but I don't argue. I don't have the energy.

"So... how have you been?" she asks.

I turn to her and shrug my shoulders. "Alright. You?"

"Great!" she exclaims. "Awesome, actually."

"That's good," I reply. I don't believe her for a second, but I'm still not going to argue.

She lets out a theatrical sigh. "God, you're making this so awkward!"

"Me? Zayna, I'm just trying to give you space. You kicked me out of your apartment, remember?" I remind her.

"Well, I had to! You noticed... you noticed my—"

"Scars?"

"Yeah, those." She holds her arms over her chest. "No one's ever paid that much attention to me before. It made me uncomfortable."

"Zayna, I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable. I'm sorry," I tell her, and I mean it.

"It just felt like you were judging me."

"I wasn't judging you at all. I was worried about you. I still am."

"You don't have to worry about me."

"Yes, I do," I reply. "I worry because I care, and I care because—"

"Because why? You barely know me, Bowie."

"I know that I like you." I wipe my wet hands on my apron and interweave my fingers through hers. "And I know that I haven't gone a day without thinking about you since we met."

Her cheeks turn scarlet. "You're so sappy."

"Maybe a little."

"Maybe a lot."

"Come out with me tonight," I implore her. "We can talk more over dinner."

"I don't know," she replies. "Things didn't work out too well last time we tried that."

"Things were going very well until I ruined everything, thank you."

She chuckles. "Fair point. Meet me back here at eight?"

"I'll be here at seven-thirty," I promise her, ecstatic that she's giving me another chance.

Trying to figure Zayna out is like trying to solve a Rubik's cube, but it's worth it. She's worth it. I can't wait for tonight.