Page 145 of PS: I Hate You

But all that can keep my mind off my brother is his best friend. The man I fell in love with twice.

Was it a mistake both times? Will he hurt me again?

Will the pain be worse than it is now, living without him?

Focusing on my missteps in life scratches at my airways and threatens my oxygen, so I go back to distractions.

Holding my hand out in a dark cave lit by glow worms and watching Dom’s long fingers twine with mine.

Admiring the sunlight filtering through a snowy window and how it fell across his skin.

Burrowing into a soft sweatshirt hug and knowing the heat on the other side of the material was his broad chest.

My stomach dips, and I realize we’re landing, the plane approaching a massive white expanse that must be the glacier. The pilot has been speaking to us through our headsets this whole time, but I haven’t heard a word. Dom’s hand tightens on mine, and I grip him back just as hard as I resume my breathing exercises.

Last goodbye.

Don’t think about it.

Last of Josh.

Don’t think about it.

The plane lands without issue and the other passengers start chattering in excitement.

This is fun for them. Of course it is. This place is gorgeous. A once-in-a-lifetime experience.

And Josh’s life ended without him seeing it.

On wobbly knees, I climb out of the airplane. Dom keeps his hand on my elbow, as if sensing my unsteadiness.

“How are you doing?” he asks, and I realize it’s the first thing he’s said to me all day. We’ve barely exchanged a handful of words on this trip.

“I…” No more words come. I’m terrified to even try naming how I feel in this moment. There’s a fragile shell of numbness that’s keeping me together. A delicate surface that could fracture at any moment. I must move carefully to keep from falling apart.

Dom gives a curt nod, as if he understands.

Maybe he does.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he says. “We have some time.”

Not forever, though. The guide directed us to return to the plane in twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes, then it’s all over.

Twenty minutes until my brother is gone forever.

Dom helps me slip my backpack onto my shoulders. I didn’t realize I was still clinging to it. Clutching Josh close while I have him.

Last goodbye. This is the last goodbye.

The air is cold here. Dry. It makes the inside of my nostrils raw as I suck in deep breaths that do little to soothe me.

As we walk away from the group, I keep my eyes on the toes of my boots. I should raise my head. Gaze around to admire the beauty of this place.

But a part of me is terrified that the moment I fully take this in, this last place my brother wanted to visit, everything that mattered about Josh will be over.

Dom stops walking, and so I do, too. He sets heavy hands on my shoulders, turning me to face him.