As It Was (COMPLETED) (wattys2023)

Don't Let Go

Walking on eggshells around a grocery store at six in the morning was far from how I wanted to start the day.

"If I have one more person shout shit about gun control in my face, I don't know if I'll be able to restrain myself." Dad had said upon asking me to run to the store before school. I had obliged. He'd been holed up in his bedroom for the last week, claiming Mom would be coming back any day, but my gut told me otherwise, and the longer she was away, the more my suspicions were confirmed.

"Everly?"

My head was up from the short list in my hands in seconds, my brain trying to process if I'd hallucinated my name being called or not. I hadn't. Andrew Hamilton stood at the end of the isle, one of his hands grasping a box of Fruit O's on the highest shelf, the other with his phone to his ear. His parents were a few feet behind him, his mother pushing a full cart of food. I'd seen his parents at various baseball games-they'd always been in the stands cheering the boys on. What he was doing four hours away from Lincoln Heights in this old grocery store, I had no idea.

He set the box of cereal in the cart, and in a couple graceful strides I was engulfed in a warm, familiar embrace. I was a little more hesitant in wrapping my arms around his waist, but once I had, I refused to think about the moment I'd have to let go.

Drew's parents had refused to allow him to go to any of the funerals or memorials. From what I'd heard, he'd been pulled out of Lincoln Heights to be homeschooled by his parents as they wouldn't allow him back into a public school and couldn't afford private.

"Evie." he repeats, voice strained. "I missed you."

We had never been close; Drew had been closer to Brady than Miles, but on the few occasions I'd went to hang with the boys at kickbacks or after a game, Drew had always been there. He'd always offer warm smiles and greetings, being the only person to talk to me at our lunch table on the days Miles wasn't at school. The most I'd ever really seen of him was any time the theater kids would pop up and make fun of him for his name.

Pulling away now, I saw that this was far from the happy, carefree boy that'd always been the other half of Brady. His hair, which had been just passed his shoulders that morning had to have been buzzed off at some point over the last six months, as there was no more than a light blonde fuzz on top of his head. Hazel eyes that had once been lively and sharing inside jokes with Brady had since sunken into his face, lips so bitten raw that they looked about as well off as my own.

"I've been texting for months." he says, rubbing my arm comfortingly. "How are you?"

I just stared at him, and for a while I think he felt what I did; the empty, hallow space between us that Brady and Miles had once filled.

"I wanted to go." he continued, eyes filling with tears. "My parents just won't let me out the door without one of them at my side. They didn't think it'd be a good idea to go to the funeral or memorial. They pulled me out the next morning and we moved out here, but obviously we can't afford Oasis so they're homeschooling me."

I nodded, but still couldn't find it in me to speak. It was as if the last few months of progression had haltered, and I'd fell back to square one. With Drew standing in front of me came the reality I tried to outrun every day.

Miles and Brady were gone, they weren't coming back. I'd never see that quirky little half smirk that'd meet Miles' eyes anytime he was conjuring up some ridiculous idea. We'd never have Brady's contagious laughter fill a room again.

"I know. . . I know they're gone." Drew said softly, "But I'm still here, Evie. I saw you a video of what Naomi did to you at the memorial and it was bullshit. You deserved to be there just as much as she did."