She continued softly, “The police gave me his jacket from the hospital. The USB was in the pocket.”
After the call, I drove back to the cemetery.
I sat beside Daniel’s grave until the sun came up.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered over and over again.
The wind moved softly through the trees, and for the first time in seven months, I let myself remember who my brother really was.
The kid who taught me to ride a bike.
The teenager who scared off bullies twice his size.
The man who sacrificed his own reputation just to save me from drowning beside someone dangerous.
He did kiss my fiancé.
But it was never about her.
It was always about me.
And somehow, even after I hated him for seven straight months…
My brother still loved me enough to die protecting me.
