My brothers best friend

Chapter 9: A Part of Me Forever

(Edited)

Chapter 9

Jake's Point of View

I can't stop thinking about the way she looked at me. Valerie. It's been hours since I left her dorm room, and I can still feel the weight of her words hanging in the air. But more than that, I can't shake this feeling in the pit of my stomach—this constant churn of frustration and regret. I fucked up. Again.

It's like every time I try to make things right with her, I make it worse. And I don't even know why I'm so hung up on it. We've been dancing around this damn kiss for months, and every time we come close to figuring it out, something always gets in the way. It doesn't help that she's avoiding me. Avoiding us.

I could've let it go. I should've let it go. But when I saw the text from Nick—that guy who danced with her at the party—I felt something I haven't felt in a long time. Jealousy. Unfamiliar, burning jealousy. She's not mine. Not really. But the thought of her having lunch with him, laughing with him, letting him in the way she's never let me in... it makes my blood boil.

What's wrong with me?

I sit down on the edge of my bed, rubbing my hands over my face. I've been a mess ever since I got here. The drinking, the avoiding, the stupid shit I said to Valerie. But then there's this other thing pulling at me—something bigger than her, something I can't ignore.

The phone rings, cutting through my thoughts. I glance at the screen. It's my dad. My gut tightens.

"Jake," he says, his voice steady but carrying a weight I can't place, "I need you to come home."

I lean back against the wall, a cold feeling creeping up my spine. "What's going on?" I ask, my voice quieter than I intend.

"Just get here, son. We'll talk when you get here."

That's all he says before hanging up. I don't even have time to think about it. I throw on my jacket, grab my keys, and head out.

The drive feels endless. The radio's playing some song I can't really focus on, and my mind just keeps drifting back to Valerie. I want to fix things with her, but every time I think I've figured it out, she pulls away. Maybe I should just let her go. Maybe that's the answer. But even as I think it, something in my chest clenches.

The house looms ahead. The place I grew up, the place where I've lived through every happy and painful moment of my life. When I pull into the driveway, it's like something is off. Like the house has aged in the wrong way. The weight of everything—the walls, the space, the air—feels thicker than it ever has.

I step out of the car, the chill in the evening air biting at my skin. The feeling hits me before I even walk inside. Something's wrong. I can tell.

The front door is open, and the sound of muffled sobbing drifts out, heavy and broken. I freeze. This isn't just a regular family thing. This is something else. Something bigger. I feel my stomach twist, tightening, as I take a hesitant step inside.

The living room is exactly how I remember it, but with one major difference: my whole family is there. My dad, my mom, Jack. Even Abuela. They're all sitting together, their faces wet with tears. The sight makes my throat tighten, and a cold wave crashes over me. I don't know what to say, don't know what to do.

I walk further into the room, trying to hold it together, but the unease inside me keeps growing. It's in the air, like electricity before a storm. I glance around at them all, and I know—I know that something's happened. Something I wasn't prepared for.

"Dad?" My voice comes out low, barely audible. "What's going on?"

My father looks up at me, his eyes red and swollen. There's no anger there, no frustration. Just sadness. Deep, quiet sadness. He motions for me to sit down, and I do. Slowly. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I feel this rush of panic building, but I don't say anything. I just wait.

"Jake," he starts, his voice rough and tired, "it's Abuelo. He passed away."

The words hit me like a fist to the gut. I don't know how to process them. I can barely breathe.

Abuelo.

My grandfather. The man who taught me everything I know. The man who shaped me, who showed me how to live in a way no one else ever could. And now, he's gone. Just like that.

The world spins around me, and for a moment, I can't catch my breath. I stand up again, walking out of the room and into the hallway. I need air. I need space to breathe. This can't be real. This isn't happening. My mind is racing, but my body doesn't know how to react. Everything feels like it's moving in slow motion, and I just want to make it stop. To make the world pause for a second so I can process this.

I close my eyes, lean against the wall, and take a deep breath. Abuelo. My Abuelo is gone. I feel like the ground's been ripped out from under me. I should have been there. I should've gone back to see him more, I should've called more. The guilt crashes over me like a wave, and I can't shake it.

When I go back into the living room, I notice my Abuela's sitting in the corner, clutching a tissue in her hand. Her eyes are swollen, her face crumpled with sorrow. The sight of her tears makes something inside me snap.

"Abuela," I say, my voice cracking. "What's going on?" I don't need to ask, but I can't stop myself. I need to know. I need to understand.

She looks at me, and her face softens. She doesn't say anything at first, just wipes her eyes and sniffles. But then she nods, her voice gentle but breaking. "Your Abuelo... he went to sleep last night, Jake. And he didn't wake up."

My chest tightens. I can barely hear the words through the ringing in my ears. I walk over to her and sit down next to her. I reach for her hand, gripping it tightly.

"He was the best man I knew," I say, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. "He taught me everything. He was the one who showed me how to be. He's the reason I ever took any risks in the first place. He taught me how to fish, how to ride. How to be brave."

I think about the summers I spent with him, waking up early to get to the river before anyone else. He'd laugh when I got too impatient with the fishing rod, show me how to be patient with nature. I think about the times we'd get on our horses and race through the fields, feeling the wind rush through us. I remember the way he would always have that quiet wisdom about him, like he knew something the rest of us didn't.

And I remember the way he looked at me, like I was the most important thing in the world. My trust for him was something else. No one else understood me like he did. Not even my dad.

My father smiles at me from across the room. "He loved you, son. You were his pride."

I nod, but the weight of it all presses down on me. I stand up again and walk over to Jack, who's sitting on the couch, sniffling quietly. I put a hand on his shoulder. He's only eight. He doesn't understand this the way I do, but I can see the confusion in his eyes.

"I love him," I say quietly, the words coming out like a whisper, as if saying them too loudly would make him disappear. "I love Abuelo."

My dad walks over, resting a hand on my back. He doesn't need to say anything. He knows. We all know. We've lost someone who meant the world to us.

And just for a moment, in the silence of that room, I don't think about Valerie. I don't think about the stupid mistakes I made or the things I said. I just think about Abuelo. And the emptiness that sits in my chest.

But I also think about the memories we shared, and I realize that even though he's gone, a part of him will always be with me.