Shattered: An Extreme Risk Novel (36 page)

It gets to me, which is exactly what he’s intending, so I work really hard not to show it. But it’s difficult, especially with all the other shit going on in my head right now. It’s taking every ounce of willpower I have not to call every hospital in town until I find the one that Tansy’s in.

I could just text her, but I figure she won’t answer me. Not after the bullshit I pulled when I found out she was sick. Besides, I don’t even know what I’d say. I’m sorry doesn’t seem to cover it, especially not when I still feel blindsided by the fact that she has cancer and didn’t bother to tell me. And not when she made it more than obvious that she doesn’t want to see me again.

“Look, can we talk about what happened in Chile?” I ask after a few more minutes of brooding silence. “It kind of got swept under the rug with everything going on there at the end—”

“You mean Tansy getting sick again?”

I grit my teeth. “Yes.”

“You can say it, you know. It’s not like voodoo or black magic. Tansy’s sick.”

There’s a part of me that wants to punch the kid—he’s being such an obnoxious little shit. “I’m aware of that, dude.”

“Are you?” He looks at me for the first time since I came to this room. Maybe for the first time since we had that fight in Chile.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at. If you have something to say, stop being cryptic and say it!”

“I’ve already said it. You just don’t want to hear it.” He turns back to the TV, actually does something with the controller this time that has the noise on-screen getting infinitely louder.

“That’s it.” I stand up, slam the off button on the TV. “I’ve given you a hell of a lot of leeway, but it stops here.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why? You’re acting like—”

“No. I mean, why did you give me leeway? Why didn’t you call me on my shit hours ago?”

I’m baffled, absolutely fucking baffled. “What do you mean? I was trying to be considerate—”

“To the cripple!” he shouts. “You were trying to be considerate to the cripple! This is the same old shit, Ash. The same shit you’ve been giving me for seven fucking months. You don’t want to upset me because I’m paralyzed. You don’t want to fight with me because I’m crippled. Don’t you ever get sick of being so nice? Don’t you ever get sick of being such a goddamned martyr?”

His words slam over me, into me, like an avalanche. “I’m trying to do the right thing here.”

“For you!” he shouts. “You’re trying to do the right thing for you!”

Outrage replaces the shock in an instant. “Okay, now wait a fucking minute. You can say a lot of things about me, about how I don’t know what I’m doing and how I’m an idiot who keeps fucking up, but don’t you ever say that I’m not trying to do the right thing for you.”

“Yeah, like you were trying to do the right thing for Tansy.”

Ice slams through. “Don’t talk about her. Don’t you fucking talk about her.”

“Why not? Because then you’ll have to admit what a fucking coward you are? How she got sick and you just let her go because you couldn’t deal. That’s the whole thing, right? Ash Fucking Lewis. Always so perfect. Always has a plan. But things aren’t perfect now. I’m not perfect, Tansy’s not perfect, your life isn’t perfect, so you can’t deal with it.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, it’s totally true. You don’t want it to be, but it is. You keep fucking trying to make these perfect slots and shove us in there. Tansy didn’t fit, so you just gave up. Just let her drive away. Is that what’s going to happen when you figure out that I don’t fit, either? Are you just going to give up on me, too?” He’s crying now, harsh, ugly sobs that turn his face red and rip right through him. There’s a part of me that wants to go to him and just hold him, but there’s another part that’s furious he’s saying these things to me. Furious that he’s thinking them when I’ve done everything,
everything
, I could think of to make the last seven months as easy on him as I possibly could.

There are a million things on the tip of my tongue, a bunch of words I don’t know how to say. A bunch of words I’m scared to say because I won’t be able to take them back.

While I stand there like an idiot, Logan wipes at his face with the backs of his hands, sniffs a few times. He needs a Kleenex, but there are none near him and I know there’s no way he’ll get in his chair right now and go get one. Not when we’re in the middle of this.

To give myself a chance to think, to cool down from the outrage and the pain ripping through me, I walk into the bathroom and grab a box of tissues. Then walk over to the bed and hold it out to Logan.

He sneers at me even as he rips it from my hands. “Thanks,” he says sarcastically. “Saint Ash is at it again.”

I lose it, then. Absolutely, fucking lose it. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I know exactly who I am. You’re the one who’s forgotten it!”

“Fuck you, Logan. Fuck you! You think this is easy? You think it’s easy trying to figure out what to do for you? Trying to make sure you’re okay? Trying to do the right thing when all I want to do—”

“What? All you want to do is what?”

“Nothing.” I head for the door. “I’m going to order pizza.”

“Of course you are. That’s what you do when bad shit happens. You run away.”

“Bullshit!” I turn on him. “I’m right here, Logan. I’m right fucking here.”

“But you aren’t! You think I don’t know what you were going to say? You think I didn’t see your face when we were in Chile. All you want to do is snowboard. It’s all you’ve ever wanted to do. And you gave it up to punish yourself. Gave it up because you think you need to be some kind of martyr.”

“Goddamnit, that’s the second time you’ve said that. And it’s going to be the last. I’m not trying to be a martyr. I gave up snowboarding because I thought it would be best for you—”

“I never asked you to give up snowboarding for me!”

“Oh, really? And how am I supposed to travel all over the world and take care of you, too? How am I supposed to go up on those mountains knowing I could die and leave you alone?
And how the hell am I supposed to get on another board knowing how much you love it, too? Knowing how much you wish it could be you?”

Logan just sneers at me. “You’re an asshole.”

For a minute I think my head might actually explode. “Seriously, I’m the asshole here? I’m the asshole? How the fuck did that happen?”

“Because you never ask. You just assume and you just do. I lost the use of my legs, Ash, not my brain. I’m still me. I still count.”

“I know that!”

“Do you? Do you really? Because you never ask me what I want. You never ask me what I think is best. I never wanted you to feel guilty about boarding. Why the hell do you think I called Tansy to begin with? I love seeing you board. I always have. And yes, I need you around. But there’s Victor and Z and Cam and Luc who can help out when you’re not here. And there’s me. You always forget, there’s me, Ash.”

“I never forget you, Logan.”

“But you do.” He’s not yelling now. He just sounds tired. As tired as I feel. “You’re always trying to do what you think is right for the cripple, but you never stop to ask if it actually is right. For me. Not the kid who’s paralyzed but me. Logan. Your little brother. I’m the same person I was, the same person I’ve always been. But you can’t see that anymore. You can’t see me.”

“That’s not true.” I walk to him then, drop down on my knees beside his bed and pull him into a tight hug. As his arms go around me and he holds me just as fiercely, I realize how long it’s been since we’ve done this. Since I’ve hugged him.

Oh, I carry him around sometimes. Lift him up onto the exam tables at the doctors’ offices. Help him into and out of his chair if he needs it. I offer him a careless fist bump or a pat on the shoulder, but I don’t hug him anymore. I haven’t hugged him, I realize sickly, since those first days in the hospital, when he woke up from the coma.

A fresh wave of guilt washes over me as he buries his face in my neck and I pretend I don’t feel the hot rush of his tears against my skin. Pretend I don’t feel the burn against the back of my own eyelids.

Logan clings to me for long seconds, shaking, and I cling to him just as hard. It’s not until he starts sniffling a little, like he’s trying to get himself under control, that I finally pull back and let him go.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him.

He shrugs. “It’s fine. I overreacted.”

“No.” I grab his chin between my fingers, turn his face to mine. “You didn’t. If this is how you feel, then we need to talk about it. We need to fix it.”

“That’s what I’m saying, Ash. You can’t fix me—”

“I’m not trying to fix you. But this”—I gesture between us—“I’m definitely going to fix this. Because I love you and I have never, for one second, wanted you to be anything but what you are.”

The words are crowding my brain again, crowding my tongue, so I take a minute to figure out exactly what I want to say. “I’m always going to be upset that you’re paralyzed, Logan. And I’m probably always going to feel guilty about it—”

“That’s not—”

I hold a hand up, wait for him to rein his own temper in and listen to me. “But you’re right. I’ve been letting what I think you need get in the way of what you actually do need. I read books, talked to your doctors, watched your PT and OT, listened to Victor and Sarah … I’ve done everything I thought I should do. But in all that, I forgot to talk to you. Forgot to listen to you. And for that, I’m sorry. Because you’re right. This is your life and I have no right to try to make all these decisions for you.

“I’ll say that a lot of it is not just because of you being paralyzed. It’s about me trying to be your fucking guardian when I can barely figure my own shit out. I feel so … incompetent. And that’s hard for me. You know? Because I always do have a plan. I always know what I’m supposed to do to make certain things happen. And then, suddenly, I’m in charge of you. Not just your brother, but the person who is supposed to be responsible for your well-being. For making sure that you’re okay.

“And that fucked with my head. I’m not going to lie. It still fucks with my head. Because I do love you, Logan. And I do want what’s best for you. But in the middle of all that, in the middle of dealing with Mom and Dad and your paralysis and everything else, I forgot the most important thing. I’m still your brother. I’m still the guy who taught you to snowboard and you’re the kid who spent most of my teenage years pranking me every way you could.”

Logan’s watching me now, eyes wide and mouth slack, like I’ve somehow managed to surprise him. Which just makes me feel worse, because what I’m saying shouldn’t be a surprise to either of us, yet somehow it is.

“I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry I lost sight of what’s important—”

“No, Ash. It’s okay. You’ve been trying really hard—”

“Maybe too hard. Maybe I need to chill out a little and listen to what you want, for once.”

His eyes go impossibly wider. “Really? You mean that?”

I take a deep breath, run a hand over the back of my neck. “Yeah, Logan, I do.”

“Awesome!”

“But, hey, you’ve got to work with me, too. Because I’m your brother, but I am also your guardian. I will listen to you and what you want and what you think—I promise that. But there
are still going to be times when I have to tell you no. And you’re going to have to accept that. I’ll try to be more reasonable, try not to do that unless I really, really have to. But when I do, I need you to listen to why I’m making the decision I’m making. Does that seem fair?”

“All I want is for you to listen, Ash. To remember that I’m still a person and not just your paralyzed brother who you’re responsible for. And I’m probably not always going to like the decisions you make—and you’ll have to deal with me fighting you about them—but I promise to listen to you, too. To hear you out about what you think. Good enough?”

“Better than good enough.” I hug him again, pretending that I don’t hear the sniffles he’s manfully trying to hold back. Then again, I’m sniffling a little bit myself.

When we’re both composed again, I ruffle Logan’s hair, just to hear him screech. Which he does—like a banshee. “So, Chinese or pizza for dinner?”

“Pizza. Obviously.” He looks at me like I’m an idiot. “And I think you should call Tansy.”

“Logan—”

“You promised to listen to me, remember?”

“Not about this.”

“Yes, about this.” He waits for me to stop gritting my teeth before he continues. “You love her, she loves you. Yes, she lied to you, but shit, Ash, you haven’t exactly been easy to talk to lately, you know?”

I do know that. Just like I know I owe her an apology for acting like such a douche when she told me. But I’m not ready to face her yet. I don’t know what to say. And besides, if she’s sick again … if she’s sick again I’m not sure I can pretend things are okay. Not sure I can keep a happy face on for her when I’m dying inside.

“I call bullshit.” Logan looks at me smugly and for the first time, I realize I must have said some of that out loud. Maybe all of it. The thought makes me sick and yet Logan looks so smug, so sure of himself, that I can’t help wondering what he’s going to say. The kid has mad people skills, obviously, and understands a hell of a lot more than I gave him credit for.

“Oh, yeah? And why is that?”

“You’re not afraid to talk to her. You’re afraid she’s going to die and you’re not going to be able to take it.”

“That’s not true—”

“It’s totally true and you know it.”

I do know it. Just the thought of something happening to Tansy sends me into a cold sweat, has panic crawling down my spine. Losing my parents the way I did devastated me, as did Logan’s injury. If something happens to Tansy on top of all that … I might as well check myself in to a mental institution now.

“And you’re forgetting something,” Logan tells me, a smug grin on his face.

“What’s that, oh wise one?”

“You love her. Which means you’re going to be wrecked if something happens to her, whether you’re with her or not. So why not be with her while you can?”

His words reverberate in my head, chase themselves around and around inside my brain as the truth ripples through me.