Chapter 57: Chapter Fifty-Six

"Hey, buddy, calm down. It's alright. Just calm down."

Leann's soothing words were directed toward my brother, but I felt like I needed those words too. She turned his body to the side and slid one of her hands under his head once he was starting to hit his own head on the floor, and then she looked up to me. "Hannah. Get something to cushion his head. Anything soft." She turned back to Tony. "Easy, Tony. Don't hurt yourself," she said to him.

My movements were slow, distracted, and yet at the same time so frantic that Leann had to yell at me the second time to focus.

I tore my eyes away from Tony, who was still having a seizure in front of me, and I dragged my feet toward my bed and quickly grabbed my blanket. I folded it so it was thick enough to cushion Tony's head, and Leann helped me slowly lift his head so I could put the blanket under his head.

His breaths were nothing more than strained, short gasps, as if he couldn't open his throat wide enough to let the air into his lungs. His chest jerked upwards and down and his whole body twitched violently.

I wanted to cry.

My mind was blank, so I was only doing what my sister was telling me to do. Do not put anything inside his mouth. Do not restrain his body. Make sure he's safe from hurting himself. Watch the time and make sure it lasts no longer than five minutes. Do not panic, he's going to be alright. Do not cry, this is nothing dangerous.

But the heart inside my chest was beating too fast, and I was terrified from head to toe. What was happening to him? Why was I not allowed to panic when it all felt like I was watching him dying? What was I supposed to do to stop this?

Within short minutes, the rapid movements of his body slowed down, and there was no word that could describe the relief I was feeling. It looked like it was now easier for him to breathe, and now he was sucking in as much oxygen as he could.

Leann moved quickly to make sure he was alright. Unlike me, she seemed calm and collected, even though I still could feel the worry that radiated off her body.

"I need to call Mom and Dad," Leann informed me. "He's alright. He should wake up in a few minutes. But I really need to tell them what happened."

I wordlessly nodded.

"Is it okay if I leave you to keep an eye on him for a second?" she asked me gently, knowing that I was on the verge of having a mental breakdown. "Hannah, can I trust you to keep an eye on him?"

"Y-yes," I stuttered.

"Okay." She nodded at me, and then pulled me into a hug. "I know this is scary for you, but trust me. He's alright and there's nothing you really should worry about."

"How would you know?" I asked after I pulled away.

"My old roommate has epilepsy. I've seen this happen a lot."

"So you think Tony has epilepsy?" I asked. Leann nodded and shrugged at the same time. "But—but I don't remember—I don't remember that he had epilepsy before."

She gave me a sad smile. "Neither do I."

She left the room to call our parents, and I returned my focus back on my unconscious brother. Gently, I lifted his head up from the floor and lay his head on my lap. He was still breathing loud, but it was on a steadier pace now.

I wiped the slight drool on the corner of his mouth with the hem of my shirt, as well as his sweaty forehead with the palm of my hand, and then gently stroked his hair just like he always did whenever I'd cry when I'd been younger.

Despite the fact that Leann had repeatedly told me to calm down and to not worry, I couldn't help it. I'd felt so helpless watching him looking like he was in so much pain, not knowing what to do to take it away from him. I was worried, I was scared, I was terrified of what I saw. If I could, I really wish I didn't have to see it all. I didn't want to see him like that.

I was so deep in my own thoughts that I didn't realize that Tony was slowly waking up, until I felt his head stir in my lap. I stopped stroking his hair as he slowly blinked, confused and disoriented.

"Hi," I whispered to him, trying to give him a smile. Tony didn't say anything back, but he kept blinking and slightly moving his head to the left and right, but he didn't seem like he had enough energy to actually move parts of his own body. "How are you feeling?"

"Hey," he finally croaked out after a while. His eyes seemed focused now. "I'm sorry you had to see this," he said weakly, his words slowly slurring into one another.

I tried another smile. "Don't worry about it."

"Please stop crying," he almost pleaded, slowly trying to reach out to my face, but his arm fell to the side from exhaustion. It was only then that I realized that I was crying, and that my tears were slowly falling onto the front of his shirt. I grabbed his fallen hand and squeezed it.

But I shook my head anyway. "I'm not."

"You are." He tried to sit up and grunted. I laid my palm on his chest and lightly pushed him back down.

"Just lie down, Tony," I told him, "you gotta be exhausted."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before faintly nodding. "I'm so sorry, Hannah."

I moved to stroke his hair gently again. "It's okay," I whispered to him. I gently squeezed his hand again. "It's okay. But you should've told me."

He weakly squeezed back, and I looked up to see Leann peeking into the room from the door to check up on us. I nodded at her and she gave me a smile before continuing to speak on the phone.

It's okay. It's always gonna be okay.

[]

Epilepsy.

Apparently, it was a long-term side effect from the head injury he had after the accident. I didn't know or understand how the doctors could look past how bad it was that it had left Tony with epilepsy for the rest of his life, but they did. He only had his first seizure a few months after he moved out, successfully scaring the shit out of his friends.

I couldn't imagine how it must've felt for him, how terrified he was when he realized that he had to live with this thing that might not go away.

Even just thinking about what I saw still made me shudder in fear. It was one of the most terrifying things I had ever witnessed. I didn't want to see him like that ever again.

My parents arrived home shortly after Tony wake up, this time less confused and disoriented. He wouldn't look at my eyes when he woke up, immediately hiding away in his old bedroom. It took a while until he opened the door for our parents and allowed them to talk with him, but that was about that.

I tried to keep myself distracted by taking a shower and cleaning up my room, even after everything inside was spotless. Every time I tried to think, my mind always brought me back to the exact moment when he fell onto the ground, and it was the last thing I wanted to think about. Leann tried to talk to me about it, but I kept changing the topic and she eventually gave up and left my room.

I stood in front of his locked door, my fist up and ready to knock on it, but a hand on my shoulder stopped me and I turned around to see Mom.

"He's asleep," she said in a whisper. "He said it always leaves him very exhausted every time."

I took a deep breath and nodded. "I'm just really worried, Mom."

"I know, honey, me too." She was frowning at the closed door, before shaking her head. "Why don't you come downstairs? You haven't had breakfast yet, right?"

At the reminder that I hadn't eaten at all, my stomach grumbled. I followed Mom downstairs, although I was a bit reluctant to leave Tony alone in his room.

Mom handed me a plate of leftover pancakes from earlier this morning, because she hadn't had time to cook since she got home. I wordlessly ate while my mind kept drifting elsewhere, until I felt Mom gently laying her hand on top of mine.

"Hannah," she said softly. "Are you alright?"

I paused before shaking my head and admitting, "No." I pushed my plate away. It was still half full. "I was really scared, Mommy. I didn't know what to do." I wiped the tears that were threatening to fall with the back of my hand.

She stood up from the chair she was sitting on and wrapped her arms around me, and I buried myself into her hug. I couldn't remember the last time I had cried in my mom's arms, but I knew that it always made me feel better every time. She gently rubbed my back and kissed the top of my head. "I'm sorry you had to be the one to see it. I can't imagine how scared you were."

"Did you know? That he has epilepsy?"

I felt her shake her head. "It was a surprise for me, too."

I asked in a small voice, "Is it dangerous? Am I going to lose him again?"

"No, honey, of course not," she said to me, and I slowly let go of the hug. "As long as he takes his medication, everything will be fine. Nothing bad is going to happen—you have nothing to worry about."

I finally nodded. "Okay." Silence settled not too long between us, and I said, "Why did you never tell me that he was adopted?"

Her eyes widened in surprise at the words that I blurted out of nowhere. She sighed, "He didn't want us to tell you."

"How come Leann knew about it?"

"She overheard. But he made her promise not to tell you, too." Her eyes turned sad when she said, "He used to be so angry at us."

"He fought with you a lot."

Mom nodded. "Sometimes I regretted ever telling him about the truth, but I knew it was the right thing to do." She brushed a strand of hair that went into her face. "Hannah, it doesn't change anything. It shouldn't. Tony is still your brother—he's still my son."

"I know that."

She smiled at me. "I was trying to tell him that. Before, when he was still mad. I guess I understood why he still felt betrayed anyway."

"So he ran away because of that."

"He didn't really run away," she said. "He told me he just needed to find himself. We thought he wasn't going to be gone for too long."

"Was he trying to find his biological family?"

She nodded. "They were teen parents. They gave him up for adoption because they were still in school and they couldn't afford taking care of him. I heard that they eventually got married after they graduated, but they never asked to take their son back." She paused. "And I'm glad that they didn't. Your dad and I—we already fell in love with Tony the first time we saw him."

I smiled at her. "Why did you adopt him anyway?"

She took a deep breath. "Your late grandpa, my father—he was old, sick and dying." She gave me a sad smile. "You know I'm his only child, and all he ever wanted before he died was holding a baby he could call his grandchild. I had been trying to get pregnant for four years—we tried everything, but maybe it just wasn't the time for us. But I wanted to have a child, too—not just because my father wanted a grandchild. We did what we could do."

I listened to her story, trying to imagine what it must've been back then.

"I love him like he's my own," she told me. "Your grandpa did too, even though he knew that Tony wasn't biologically ours."

"He died when Tony was five months old," I added. "I remember you telling me that."

She nodded. "And then I suddenly got pregnant with Leann. And then you. And later, Cole. It was a miracle for us when we first found out that I was pregnant with Leann, because we already accepted that maybe I just wasn't capable of having children. But let me tell you this, Hannah."

She held my hands and looked at me straight in the eye.

"I love you. All four of you, equally. You have to know that."

I nodded at her. "I know you do, Mom."

"And I'm sorry that I've hurt you all these years when all you asked for was to see your brother." Her eyes glistened with tears and guilt. "I was doing what I thought was best for all of us. He didn't want you to see him and I didn't want to break any more of his trust. I'm sorry that I hurt you instead."

"It's alright, I understand better now," I told her with a smile, and I reached out to wipe her tears with my hand. "I'm sorry I used to yell at you for it. I was such a brat."

She lightly laughed and sniffled at the same time.

I took a deep breath. "Were you mad at him? Because of the accident?"

She nodded. "I was. God, I was. But mostly, I was scared. I woke up at three a.m. to your dad screaming at me that two, not one, of our children were lying on an operating table, and that there was a huge chance that I could be losing you both. What was a mother supposed to feel?"

"I'm sorry, it was my fault too." I looked at my lap and fiddled with my fingers. "I shouldn't have gone. I should have just woken you up instead—I shouldn't have been driving."

"There are a lot of things that we could've done differently," she told me after a few beats of silence. "But we've made our choices, and we should accept it. There are a lot of things I could've done to prevent that accident from happening. It doesn't mean that I should drown myself in this whole bunch of what-ifs and could've-beens. You shouldn't either."

I looked up and saw her smiling at me, and so I told her with all my heart, "I love you, Mommy."

Her smile got wider and she reached out to brush my hair. She stopped when she felt the scar above my eyebrow, under my bangs, and gently brushed her thumb over it. "I love you too, Hannah."

She pulled away and stood up, checking the clock on the counter and said, "Well, I should probably start cooking for dinner. Can you tell Leann to come down for me? I could really use a hand."

I raised my eyebrows. "Why can't I help?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Well, you see, you're not really that good at cooking.. and I'd rather keep this house from burning.."

I chuckled and rolled my eyes in jest. "Alright, alright. I'll go get her."

She nodded at me. "Great. I need to finish cooking before your dad gets home."

"Where is he anyway?" I asked.

"He left an hour ago to check up on the diner. It's open again tomorrow."

At the mention of the diner, I frowned because I felt like there was something important that I had to do, that somehow related to the diner. It took a while until it finally clicked in my brain, and I immediately blurted out, "Oh, shit." Mom turned around and gave me a stare. "I mean—shoot."

She sighed. "What's wrong now?"

"Crap, crap, crap," I muttered to myself and looked at the clock. It was four o'clock. "Dammit."

"Hannah?"

"I was supposed to meet Jonah," I blurted out. "At the diner. But then Tony—and then I forgot—" I buried my face in my hands. "This is not good. I need to go there. Mom, where's the keys?"

She narrowed her eyes at me. "What keys?"

"The car keys."

She waved a finger at me. "You're not driving. I banned you from driving, didn't you remember?"

I groaned. "Oh, come on, Mom! This is urgent!"

"Why is it so important? Is there something wrong between you two? Why do you need to meet him at the diner?" she asked, and I shrugged helplessly. She sighed. "Why don't you just call your dad and ask him if he's seen your boyfriend?"

I nodded. "That's a great idea," I said. "Thanks, Mom."

I grabbed the phone from the counter and immediately called Dad. Unfortunately, he told me that no one was at the diner, and he didn't see anyone around.

Maybe Jonah had already left when Dad got there.

Still in a state of panic, I ran upstairs and grabbed my phone. I dialed Jonah's phone, hoping that I could explain to him why I couldn't be there, but his phone was dead. He didn't leave any message either. I kept calling him over and over again, but it always went straight to voicemail, so I eventually gave up.

With a sigh, I dropped onto my bed and closed my eyes. Why did it feel like I had just screwed things up even more?

[]

I knocked on the door and turned the knob without waiting for a response. It was unlocked.

Tony's room was dark—the lights were out, but I could see the shadow of him sitting on the edge of his bed. His window was closed but the curtains were open, and I could see the thunderstorm outside, making the night look even darker. I quietly walked in and closed the door, and put the tray I was carrying on the study desk near the door before coming up and sitting down next to him.

He didn't turn to look at me, but he sighed.

I hugged him from the side, and it took a few seconds until he put his arms around me. "You didn't come down to eat dinner with us." He hummed in response. "Why?"

"I wasn't hungry."

"Well, you should eat. I brought you some of the food. It's on your desk."

"Thank you, Hannah," he told me. He didn't say anything else after that.

"Are you alright?" I asked him the same thing Mom had asked me earlier. He gave me a light shrug. "Are you not feeling well?"

"I'm okay, Hannah," he said softly. "I'm not dying. It was just a seizure."

My breath hitched, and I closed my eyes. I didn't want to hear his name and dying in one sentence. "Does it happen a lot?"

"It used to. But this one was the second time I had a seizure since almost two years ago."

"Second time?" I asked.

"The first one was, uh..." he rubbed the back of his neck, "a few days ago. I had a feeling I was going to have a seizure so I went here and locked myself. Woke up a few minutes later on the floor."

"Oh my god, Tony."  I snuggled deeper into his hug. "You were all by yourself? Why didn't you tell any of us?"

"Yeah." He shrugged. "Not my best decision, but it came so unexpected and I didn't really know what to do. I didn't know how to tell you guys."

"But before that, you were seizure free for two years?"

He nodded. "I took my medications and the seizures stopped completely after a few months. I still take the meds every day, to prevent more from happening. Guess this one just... slipped out." I felt his hand moving and resting on top of my head. Then he added, in a voice that obviously showed that he was just as scared as I was, if not more, "But now it came back and I'd have to go see my doctor again. I don't know what's gonna happen now, actually."

"I'm sorry," I said, because I couldn't think of anything else to say. But saying it out loud just made me feel like the worst person ever. What was I even telling him I was sorry for? I'm sorry you have epilepsy. I'm sorry you'll have to live with this for the rest of your life. I'm sorry your life probably sucks even more than mine. I never realized how little apologies could mean until this very moment.

"I used to think that this is just a punishment for me. For hurting you," he started. "I still do."

Hearing that made me sick. "Don't say that."

"Well, it's true." He brushed my hair with his fingers. I closed my eyes again, for a moment feeling like a ten year old girl scared of the thunder, seeking protection from her big brother. "In fact, when I just found out about the epilepsy, I was relieved. There was no way I could live with myself if I had gotten out of the accident completely unscathed, while you were hurting."

"You don't deserve this, Tony. You're a healthy, twenty-two year-old guy. It's unfair."

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter to me."

I chose not to say anything to that. I had a feeling that no matter what I said, Tony would still find a way to tell me that he was meant to have this as a punishment and all other bullshit like that. Instead, I admitted to him, "I don't like this feeling."

"What feeling?"

"That I could lose you at any time." I hated the way my voice sounded so weak and scared, but that was exactly what I was feeling. Weak and scared of what his condition would affect him—and all of us. Weak and scared because there always would be nothing that I could do to make it better. Weak and scared because my hands would always lay helpless every time his body fell to the ground.

Tony pulled away and slightly turned my body so he could look at me in the eye. "You won't, Hannah. This is not a deadly thing. I'm not dying. I can live with this."

"But what if—what if you were taking a bath and had a seizure and then drowned? What if you were on the street and you hit your head too hard and no one bothered to help you? What if you were at home alone and no one was there to turn your body to the side and you fucking choke on your own spit? What if you suffocated yourself during the seizure—"

"Hey, chill out," he said, putting both of his hands on my shoulders. There was a smile on his face. I didn't get why he was smiling when none of this was funny. "Alright. I'll take showers instead of baths. I'll always have someone with me during walks—I might even get a seizure-watch dog, if this gets worse. I'll be careful. I lived with this for a while before and I was okay. You don't have to worry about me at all."

I closed my eyes and took a long and deep breath, commanding myself to stay away from negative thoughts. I didn't know since when I had become such a pessimist, but it needed to stop right now. "Okay. Alright. I believe you."

"That's the sister I know," he said to me. "Now, where's this food you were talking about? I'm starting to feel hungry."

I stayed with him in the room as he ate the food that I brought earlier. I kept myself busy by walking around the room, picking up the stuff that he'd left years ago that Mom never cleaned up. Even though this had become Cole's room, most of Tony's stuff stayed here.

"Hannah?"

I turned around. "Hm?"

"I'm really curious about that guy—your friend who was in that other car. What's his name again?"

I bit my lip. "Jonah."

"Right." Tony finished his dinner and put the plate away on the bedside table. "I don't understand why he thought he hurt us."

"I don't either."

"And I really need to thank him for calling 911 for us." I wordlessly just nodded. "Have you talked to him?"

"No, but I was supposed to. Today."

"Why didn't you—oh. He was the one you were going to meet at lunch, wasn't he?" I tried to smile at him, but it came out strained. "Hey, what's with that face?"

I shook my head at him. "Nothing."

"Is Jonah your best friend or something?" he asked with a frown. "Are you guys fighting?"

"No—we're—I'm not—" I cut myself off with a sigh. "He's actually my boyfriend. Sort of."

"Hannah!" he exclaimed in a low voice. "You told me you weren't dating anyone!"

"Wha—well, I—I don't know!" I threw my head backward with a groan. "We're not really—things are really weird between us."

I told him briefly about how amazing Jonah was, and how I freaked out when he told me about what he thought happened during the accident. I told my brother nearly everything, including the fact that our relationship started because of the stupid, childish operation bite the apple, and my brother sat there patiently listening to me and my woeful story without complaint.

"Sounds like a mess," he said after I was done.

I grunted, "I know."

"But do you really like him, Hannah?" he asked. "On a scale of one to ten, how much do you like him?"

I paused, before saying, "Eleven." I paused. "Thousand. Eleven thousand." He raised his eyebrows at me in amusement. I rolled my eyes. "I'm kidding, but it's definitely more than ten. I love him, Tony."

"Huh."

"Is it stupid? To love a person when you're just seventeen years old?" I asked quietly. "There's no one else I'd rather be with and it scares me to know that he's slowly just... slipping away."

He thought about it for a while. "I do think it's too young for you to feel something like... love. I don't know. That's pretty intense. But then again, who am I to speak? I'm twenty-two and I'm already looking for an engagement ring for my girlfriend.

"I don't think it's wrong, though. To love while you're young. But you should be careful with it, because you don't want it to consume you."

I nodded and rested my head on his shoulder. "So what should I do now?"

"What else? Go talk to him. If you had enough guts to dump soda on the grumpiest guy in your school, nothing should stop you from making things right with a boy that, according to your own words, you love."

I chuckled. "You're right. I'm such a coward."

He shook his head at me. "Nah, you're not. And I still have to meet this Jonah kid who wooed my little sister with his gloomy charm."

I lightly punched him in the arm. "Don't do anything to him."

"No promises."

I shook my head and smiled. "Alright. I'm gonna leave you to get some rest. It's already late anyway." I took the plate and the rest of the tray and walked toward the door.

"Hey, Hannah?"

"Yeah?"

He just looked at me for a while, with an unreadable smile on his face. Eventually, he told me, "Good night."

I smiled back and opened the door. "Good night, Tony."

I went back into my bedroom after doing the dishes, and immediately changed into my pajamas. Before I slipped into my blanket, I took my phone and turned it on.

There was a message from Jonah, and my heart immediately dropped from my chest. I quickly dialed his number, and to my disappointment, it was dead.

I threw my phone onto my bed in frustration, and I ended up staying awake through the night while all I could think about was the short text message he had sent me.

You didn't come today.

[]

"He didn't tell you he was quitting the job?"

Nat, one of the people I knew who worked at the diner, frowned at me. I shook my head at her. "No... I didn't know."

"Well, his last day of work was the day before Thanksgiving break." I leaned onto the counter while she sorted dollar bills in the cash register. "I thought you already knew. After all, he's your boyfriend, isn't he?"

I ignored the sly look she was sending me. "Did he say why he quit?"

"Well, we were talking—it's pretty damn unexpected to know that the guy speaks—and he said something about not needing the money anymore. I think he was saving up for something?"

I forced the wheels inside my head to turn. "Oh! Yeah. He broke his sister's laptop. He was going to buy her a new one. But I think he told me he already bought it."

"Yeah, guess that's why." She looked up from the cash she was holding in her hand, and raised her eyebrows. "Are you guys fighting or something?"

I gave her a weird look. "What makes you say that?"

"I don't know..." she drawled out. "You both have been pretty weird lately. He's been distracted a lot and this is the first time you come here since about a week ago. And I have this... sad, distraught vibe around you. Smells like trouble in paradise. So rotten."

I rolled my eyes at her.

"Just don't forget, Hannah. If you get bored, I'm ready to pick up the pieces," she said with a good-natured smirk.

I knew she was just joking, so I didn't take it to heart. However, I still narrowed my eyes at her warningly. "Dude, not a chance."

She scoffed at me.

I ignored her—again—and groaned out loud, probably attracting the people around who were peacefully having their lunch. "Nat, what am I gonna do?"

"Ooh, Hannah. Did you, like, you know, go to his house or something?" she suggested sarcastically.

I glowered at her. "I did. No one was home."

"Phone?"

"Wouldn't answer my calls."

"Ouch." She closed the cash register and leaned on the other side of the counter. "What did you do this time, Heartbreaker?"

"Something stupid," I mumbled with my face in my hands, before shaking my head and standing up straight. "I should go. Thank you anyways, I guess."

She saluted me. "Glad to be at service."

Before I walked out, I glanced at the Jonah's usual counter. A twenty-something year-old guy had filled his space, and my lips turned down into a frown.

Where was he?

[]

I tried checking his house the second time. Jonah's car still wasn't here, but his sister was home.

"Hannah!" Clara said brightly, immediately hugging me as a greeting. "I haven't seen you in a while. How are you?"

I smiled at her. "I'm great, thanks. How are you?"

"Same as usual. Come on in, I think it's about to rain."

I shook my head. "No, it's alright. I'll be quick—my friend's waiting there," I told her, gesturing to Gina, whom I might or might not have hired as my driver for the day.

"Okay..." Clara drawled out. "So, what's up?"

"I'm just—uh, I'm just wondering if your brother's home."

She frowned. "Well... Jonah hasn't been home since around midnight."

"What? Do you know where he is? Is he okay?"

Clara lifted up her shoulder. "Nothing to worry, though. He does this a lot when he's bored, I guess."

My forehead knitted in worry, but I nodded at her anyway. "Alright, then. Thanks, Clara."

Gina looked at me expectantly when I got into her car. "Well?"

I shook my head. "Still not home. He's been gone since midnight."

"Do you have any idea where he could be?" she asked me as she started the car and began driving away.

I sighed and put my head in my hands. "I don't know, Gina. I can't think straight and I don't know where else he could possibly be."

She blew out air through her mouth. "Hm. You said he's been gone since midnight."

"Yeah."

"Where the hell would he go at midnight," she wondered to herself. And then she turned to me briefly, "Didn't you say he's has trouble sleeping at night?"

"Yeah. I've mentioned it to you several times."

"What would Jonah do when he has insomnia?"

I thought about it. "He told me he usually would study, listen to music or read a book, or—oh. Oh!"

"Oh what?"

"I know where he is! I know!" I exclaimed with a barely contained excitement. "There's this place—he took me there on my birthday. I think I remember where it is."

Gina nodded. "Okay. Lead the way, lady."

[]

Jonah's car was parked in front of us, but I still hadn't found him yet.

"Do you want me to wait?" Gina asked as I was preparing to open the door.

I shook my head. "No. You can go home. And thank you so much for this."

"Nah, don't mention it. But are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure." I nodded.

"Alright then. I'm going to take Bey out on a date. Just give me a call if you need me," she said to me. I took a deep breath and opened the door, and Gina waited for a while before driving away.

I tightened the coat I was wearing and looked around to search for Jonah. I walked through the open field, occasionally glancing at the yellowed leaves that came out of nowhere falling onto my shoes. The sky slightly grumbled and I looked up to see gray above me, hiding the sunshine that was supposed to fall at me.

Eventually, I spotted a figure sitting on the rocks by the river with his back turned to me, and my footsteps stopped for a while.

The sky grumbled again, and he lifted his head up for a while, staring at the dark clouds above him. He seemed to be thinking for a while, before standing up and turning around.

And he stopped when he saw me.

None of us spoke—my mind was a jumbled mess at the sight of him standing in front of me, and he was probably wondering why I was here. But really, I was momentarily tongue-tied, openly staring at him while my brain refused to work properly. The shirt he was wearing was slightly crumpled, the hair on his head was as messy as it could ever be, and his lips were turned down into the all-familiar frown he'd often had on his face.

And then he blinked, shook his head and looked away. My eyes followed him as he crouched down to take his bag that was on the ground, slinging one of the straps across his right shoulder.

When he took a step forward, I finally found my voice. "Jonah."

He stopped in his steps, and his eyes found mine again. He stared expectantly at me, but not saying anything.

I tried to offer him a smile, but I wasn't sure if I succeeded. "What are you doing out here?"

At first, he still didn't say anything. Until, "Thinking. Staring at trees. Sleeping." He lifted his shoulder in a weak shrug. "Thinking." He paused. "What are you doing out here?"

"Looking for you." His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Now I've found you."

He nodded, and then to my surprise, he walked past me and said, "Well, I really need to get home, so," he paused, "bye, I guess."

My heart dropped from my chest at the way he carelessly waved goodbye at me. "Are you mad at me?"

He stopped walking and turned to me. "Mad at you?"

"Yeah, mad at me." I sighed and took a few steps closer. "Jonah, I'm really sorry I didn't come meet you yesterday. It was—" I shook my head as I tried to find a way to explain.

I could tell that my brother had a medical emergency, but it required me to tell him about a brother he didn't know I had, and the frown on his face made me think that this wasn't the right time for me to explain everything in this instant. At the very least, we needed to be sitting down for that conversation.

"I had a lot of stuff going on and—and I'm sorry."

He frowned as if he was both surprised and confused. "I'm not mad at you," he told me. "It's alright."

But why didn't it feel like it was alright? I closed my eyes and sighed. "You waited for me, didn't you?"

When I opened my eyes again, he was looking away.

"For how long?" I asked quietly.

He shrugged. "I just waited."

And I never showed. "I'm sorry, Jonah."

"Why do you keep apologizing to me?" he asked. "I understand that you couldn't come. I just wanted to talk to you—it's not a big deal, Hannah."

I nodded at him. "Well, we can talk now. I'm here."

He stared at me for a while, and then he exhaled. "I really need to get home right now, Hannah."

"You are mad at me."

He shook his head. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"Because of the stupid soda thing! Because I've been lying to you this whole time—but Jonah, I do care about you. I really do. I should've told you sooner."

"I'm not mad at you," he said. "I mean, honestly, how can I be angry at you over it, after everything that I've done to you?"

There was pain in his eyes, and then in my chest. It intensified when Jonah slowly turned around to leave again. "That's the other thing I want to talk to you about." He stayed. "Jonah," I began softly. "What did you remember from that night?"

Now there was fear and guilt. "I don't—why are we talking about this now?"

"Come on, Jonah, you know this talk is long overdue. That's my fault, I know." I took steps closer to him, and this time, he stayed rooted to the ground, his eyes following my every move. "What happened before the crash?"

Our eyes met, but then he broke eye contact to look away. "I stole my parents' car. They weren't home and I hated my new house. So I stole their car and drove."

"Okay." I took a deep breath. "What did you do after?"

He was looking at me questioningly, and he took a moment before answering, "I drove around the town. I didn't know where I was going. I got lost." He closed his eyes for a moment. "And then I hit your car."

"And then you hit my car? Is that all that happened?" I asked. He slowly nodded. "Are you sure it's really what happened?"

He closed his eyes as if looking at me was too painful. "Where are you going with this, Hannah?"

"Just tell me what you remember. Please. I'll explain later."

He was unsure, but then he said, "I know I saw your car. And, like you said, there was a bright light. A loud crash. I—we crashed. It happened fast."

"That's all you remember?"

"That's all I remember."

Jonah only remembered as much as I did, which was not much. So why did he think that he actually crashed? What drove him to that conclusion? Or was Tony wrong?—did Jonah really hit us in the accident?

But then I realized—there was a big loophole in Jonah's story that I should've realized long ago. But we both had been too high on emotions the first time we'd had this conversation. Too sad and confused and angry and overwhelmed to consider this one thing.

So, with renewed energy, I took a few steps closer and asked, "And what happened after that?"

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"After you—after you hit us," I said, putting my fingers up as a quotation mark in the air, "what did you do? Where did you go?"

"I... I went home," he said unsurely. "I went home after that."

"You went home," I echoed. "What did your parents say about the car?" Jonah only looked at me as if he was lost. "That car must've been wrecked pretty bad after it got involved in a near fatal car crash. Did you see what happened to mine? It was crushed. There's no way your parents could've looked past it."

His forehead was knotted in thoughtful confusion. "The car..."

"And what happened to you?" I asked slowly. "Were you hurt? Did you have to go to the hospital? How did you escape from that crash, Jonah? My brother and I, we were airlifted to a hospital. Did you come out of the crash uninjured?"

He shook his head. "I don't know... I don't... I went home and I... I was fine." He stopped. "I was fine," he repeated in complete confusion.

"And there is no way you could've been fine if you really were in that accident," I told him. I reached out and gently held both of his arms. "Jonah, what you remember is not what happened four years ago."

"How do you know..."

"Because my brother remembered, and that's what he told me. Because there was a police report."

"Your brother... remembered?"

I nodded. "He was with me when it happened."

"He was in the car with you?" he asked, and I nodded. "But how did he—and you told me—didn't I kill him in that crash?" his voice shook as he spoke.

I shook him by his shoulders to pull him out of his trance. "Jonah, you didn't kill anyone."

"I didn't?" he asked, his eyes searching into mine as if he wasn't sure what to believe. The sky started to growl at us again, but I ignored it, even though now it was too dark for it to be an afternoon.

"No, you didn't," I told him. "In fact, you saved our lives."

I smiled at him, even though there were tears falling down my cheeks.

"Jonah... you weren't involved in the accident at all."