I woke up that morning to Steven shaking my bed. “Have you seen Jere?” he demanded.
“I was asleep until three seconds ago,” I muttered, my eyes still closed. “How could I have seen him?”
Steven stopped shaking the bed and sat down on the edge. “He’s gone, man. I can’t find him anywhere, and he left his phone. What the hell happened last night?”
I sat up. Belly must have told him. Shit. “I don’t know,” I said, rubbing my eyes.
“What are we gonna do?”
This was all my fault.
I got out of bed and said, “Go ahead and get dressed. I’ll look for him. Don’t tell Belly anything.”
Looking relieved, he said, “Sounds good. But shouldn’t Belly know? We don’t have a ton of time before the wedding. I don’t want her to get ready and everything if he’s not coming.”
“If I’m not back in an hour, you can tell her then.” I threw off my T-shirt and put on the white linen shirt Jere had made us all buy.
“Where are you gonna go?” Steven asked me. “Maybe I should go with you.”
“No, you stay here and take care of her. I’ll find him.”
“So you know where he is, then?”
“Yeah, I think so,” I said. I didn’t have a clue where that bastard was. I just knew I had to fix this.
On my way out, Laurel stopped me and said, “Have you seen Jere? I need to give him something.”
“He went out to get something for the wedding,” I said. “I’m going to meet him now. I’ll give it to him.”
She handed me an envelope. I recognized the paper right away. It was my mom’s stationery. Jere’s name was written on the front in her handwriting. Smiling, Laurel said, “You know, I think it might be nicer this way, coming from you. Beck would like that, don’t you think?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I think she would.” There was no way I was coming back without Jere.
As soon as I was outside, I sprinted to my car and just gunned it out of there.
I went to the boardwalk first, then the skate park we used to hang out at as kids, then the gym, then a diner we’d stop at on the way into town. He’d always liked their strawberry milk shakes. But he wasn’t there. I drove around the mall parking lot. No car and no Jere. I couldn’t find him anywhere, and my hour was almost up. I was screwed. Steven was going to tell Belly, and then this would be just one more, epic time I messed up her life. What if Jere had left Cousins completely? He could be back in Boston for all I knew.
It would have been great if I had some sudden epiphany, some insight into where he was, seeing as how we were brothers. But all I could do was run down the list, every place we ever went. Where would Jeremiah go if he was upset? He’d go to my mom. But her grave wasn’t here, it was in Boston.
In Cousins she was everywhere. Then it came to me—the garden. Maybe Jere had gone to the garden at the shelter. It was worth a shot. I called Steven on the way over. “I think I know where he is. Don’t tell Belly anything yet.”
“All right. But if I don’t hear from you in half an hour, I’m telling her. Either way, I’m kicking his ass for this.”
We hung up as I pulled into the women’s shelter parking lot. I saw his car right away. I felt a mixture of profound relief and dread. What right did I have to say anything to him? I was the one who was responsible for this mess.
Jere was sitting on a bench by the garden, his head in his hands. He was still in last night’s clothes. His head snapped up when he heard me coming. “I’m warning you, man. Don’t come near me right now.”
I kept walking. When I was standing right in front of him, I said, “Come back to the house with me.”
He glowered at me. “Fuck you.”
“You’re supposed to be getting married in a couple of hours. We don’t have time to do this right now. Just hit me. It’ll make you feel better.” I tried to pick up his arm, and he shoved me off.
“No, it’ll make you feel better. You don’t deserve to feel better. But after the shady shit you pulled, I should beat the crap out of you.”
“Then do it,” I said. “And then let’s go. Belly’s waiting for you. Don’t make her wait on her wedding day.”
“Shut up!” he yelled, lunging at me. “You don’t get to talk to me about her.”
“Come on, man. Please. I’m begging you.”
“Why? Because you still love her, right?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “What I want to know is, if you still had feelings for her, why did you give me the go-ahead, huh? I did the right thing. I didn’t go behind your back. I asked you, straight up. You told me you were over her.”
“You weren’t exactly asking for my permission when I walked in on you kissing her in your car. Yeah, I still gave you the go-ahead, because I trusted you to take care of her and treat her right. Then you go and cheat on her in Cabo during spring break. So maybe I should be the one asking if you love her or not.” As soon as I got the last word out, Jere’s fist was connecting with my face, hard. It was like getting hit with a ten-foot wave—all I could hear was the ringing in my ears. I staggered backward. “Good.” I gasped. “Can we get out of here now?”
He punched me again. This time I fell to the ground.
“Shut up!” he yelled. “Don’t talk to me about who loves Belly more. I’ve always loved her. Not you. You treated her like garbage. You left her so many times, man. You’re a coward. Even now, you can’t admit it to my face.”
Breathing hard, I spat out a mouthful of blood and said, “Fine. I love her. I admit it. Sometimes—sometimes I think she’s the only girl I could ever be with. But Jere, she picked you. You’re the one she wants to marry. Not me.” I pulled the envelope out of my pocket, stumbled up, and pushed it at his chest. “Read this. It’s for you, from Mom. For your wedding day.”
Swallowing, he tore the envelope open. I watched him as he read, hoping, knowing, my mom would have the right words. She always knew what to say to Jeremiah.
Jere started to cry as he read, and I turned my head away.
“I’m going back,” he finally said. “But not with you. You’re not my brother anymore. You’re dead to me. I don’t want you at my wedding. I don’t want you in my life. I want you gone.”
“Jere—”
“I hope you said everything you needed to say to her. Because after this, you’re never seeing her again. Or me. It’s over. You and I are done.” He handed me the letter. “This is yours, not mine.”
Then he left.
I sat on the bench and opened the paper up. It said, Dear Conrad.
And then I started to cry too.
