I don’t need him to thank me for doing what he should be doing.

I need him to either get out of my way or step the fuck up and be a dad.

“Whatever.” I toss the spatula on the counter next to the stove. “I’m gonna go wake Liam up.”

I overhear his piss-poor attempt at making conversation with Bianca and Cole as I make my way up the staircase. From the sounds of things, they’re over his bullshit too.

Good. Fuck knows I’ve been over it for years.

I pound on Liam’s door harder than necessary. “Time to wake up.” When he doesn’t respond, I try again. “I know you’re mad at me, but put it on hold for a few because I’m making your favorite breakfast.”

No response.

I’m not dumb enough to think pancakes will fix things between us, but the least he can do is respond.

“Come on, man.” I pound on his door harder. “For fuck’s sake, just answer me.”

Yell at me. Tell me I’m the worst brother in the world again. Something.

I get nothing.

I go down the hall and check the bathroom. Empty.

An ugly feeling crawls up in my gut and I bang on his door again. “Liam.”

This time when he doesn’t respond, I turn the knob.

The ugly feeling in my gut snakes up my spine when I take in his empty, made-up bed.

He must have woken up before me. Shit.

My brain’s trying to conjure up all the places he could have run off to when my eyes land on his closet door.

It takes me a second to process what I’m seeing.

Rope.

My eyes track the rope’s path from around the knob to where it’s wedged between the top of the frame and the door.

Why would Liam have rope…

It hits me like a brick to the head and my knees buckle.

No. No. No. No.

A guttural sound rips from my throat as I run across the room to the closet.

“Dad!” My voice is so shredded I hardly recognize it. “Dad, I need you. Something’s wrong with Liam!”

God, please tell me I’m wrong.

Tell me he didn’t do what I think he did.

Tell me my little brother is…

My worst fears are confirmed when I turn the knob, and whatever was left of my heart after my mother died…

Shatters into a thousand tiny little pieces.

My mother was wrong.

Some things can’t be fixed.

A new day doesn’t always bring new chances.

Sometimes it just brings pain and more grief.

Liam had already been dead for hours by the time I found him, but I didn’t need the paramedics to tell me that.

His lips were blue. His skin was blue. The fingertips digging into the rope were blue.

Even the basket he kicked over was blue.

Everything was blue.

Ironic that a shade representing the best things in the world—the sky, the ocean, the color of Dylan’s eyes—also symbolized the worst.

My once favorite color…now made me sick to my stomach.

Almost as sick as the fact that my siblings and I were downstairs, talking and acting like everything was fine…while our brother was hanging from a rope.

All alone in a closet. Discarded like an ugly Christmas sweater.

The muscles in my chest draw tight as I stuff a pillow in my mouth and scream so loud my ears pop.

This is all my fault.

I killed him.

I loved him.

I killed him by loving her.

I scream again, louder this time, but just like Liam’s…my screams for help are silent.

The stone-cold truth of the last forty-eight hours seeps into my bones like an aggressive toxin, contaminating my reality.

He’s gone and he’s never coming back.

He didn’t give me a chance to fix it.

He didn’t give me a chance to apologize.

He didn’t give me a chance to prove I could be a good brother.

He didn’t give me a chance to tell him I’d do anything for him.

Including giving her up.

Balling my fists, I punch my skull.

I’m his big brother, I should have been the one he came to.

The one to help him find a different resolution than the one he chose.

Instead, I was the one who caused the pain that ended his life.

I punch my skull again. So hard I become lightheaded.

If I didn’t kick him out of my room.

If I had checked on him before I went to bed.

If I didn’t fall in love with the girl he gave his heart to.

Should’ve. Would’ve. Could’ve.

There are so many, I’m drowning in them.

But not a single damn one of them will bring Liam back.

Nothing will.

Death is a permanent scar that the people left behind are forced to bear.

And suicide a burden you shoulder forever.

The sound of my phone ringing hums in the background and I snatch it off my bed.

Dylan.

It’s always Dylan calling.

I should tell her what happened…tell her what I did, but I can’t.

Liam’s dead, because I was selfish. Talking to her would be the equivalent of spitting on the grave we’ll be burying him in tomorrow.

I miss her.

The metal casing digs into my fingertips as I clench my cell, combatting the urge to talk to her.

I can’t.

Maybe when things aren’t so fucked-up and I’m able to breathe without the overwhelming rush of pain twisting like a knife, we can be friends again.

I throw the phone against my wall and watch as the screen cracks.

If I never kissed her at the dance, Liam would still be alive.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

If Liam hadn’t walked in on us, I would have had a chance to explain everything to him. He wouldn’t have been blindsided and embarrassed.

But that didn’t happen…because someone stole the opportunity from me. Then he poured salt in the wound by laughing and pointing while Liam cried.

They all did.

Adrenaline lights me up like a rocket as I stand.

I look at the clock on my nightstand. School will be out in twenty-five minutes.

I can’t bring Liam back. I can’t fix the part I played in his death.

But there is something I can do.

Something that will dull the pain…and teach someone a lesson they’ll never forget.

“Where are you going?” Cole questions as I run down the stairs.

I take the bat out of the closet in the foyer, the very same one Liam used the other night. “To make him pay.”

The need for vengeance thrums through my chest with every step I take toward the building.

I’m not stupid enough to walk inside and beat the shit out of him. There are too many witnesses.

But I happen to know his mom works all the time and he walks home instead of taking the bus.

I check my watch. The dismissal bell should be ringing any minute now.

As if on cue, I watch hundreds of kids file out of the school.

Most of them are laughing and smiling…no doubt glad the last day of classes are on the horizon.

While they’ll all be celebrating making it through another year tomorrow…I’ll be burying my little brother.

Because of that motherfucking asshole right there.

Pure wrath pulses through my veins as I watch him wave to a few people before heading down the sidewalk…without a care in the world.