Breathe

Chapter 1

Lucie

The Horne residence was as pristine as ever. The white brick was freshly cleaned and repainted, the rose bushes flanking the front door trimmed and in full bloom, the patio furniture's cushions washed and dried to immaculate perfection. When I pulled up to it, the only thing off about the place was the fact that Cian's silver Cadillac was missing from the driveway.

It had been summer for two weeks now, Vinny's first one as a live person since his death two years ago. He'd been breathing and functioning for around two months now, but was far from used to it. At times he had to remind himself—the hard way—that he could no longer walk through walls.

I parked my Subaru against the curb and clambered out into the open air. The sun's heat was relentless on my bare legs and arms—it was tank top and short weather. I tied my hair up to keep the strands from clinging to my neck due to the humidity.

Cian, a few weeks back, had gifted me a spare key to his house, as some sort of end of the school year present. "You're practically a purebred Horne now," he'd said as he pressed the princess designed key into my palm. "I figure this is only fitting."

So it was pink and sparkly, but he thought it was funny, so there was no point in arguing.

Utilizing the key, I opened up the door and slid into the air conditioning. The glass chandelier glittered at me from the ceiling, the mahogany staircase curling towards the second floor. Mrs. Horne's voice called out from the parlor, from which were coming a chorus of several other women's voices: "Cian, is that you, darling?"

"Nope," I called back. "It's Lucie, Mrs. H! Just stopping by."

There were a few clinks and an, "Excuse me, ladies," before Cian and Vinny's mother waltzed into the foyer. She was in a white blouse and crème tulle skirt, her tiny feet crammed into tall stiletto heels. Her ponytail was tight and slick, not one hair out of place. She gave me a strained smile—despite how much time I spent around both her sons, our relationship was still tentative. "Hi, Lucie," she said, her blue eyes like looking right into Vinny's. "It's our weekly book club meeting, so if you could—"

"Don't worry. I'll be quiet. Is Vinny here?"

She motioned upstairs. "He's in his room."

I nodded at her, returning her strained smile and disappearing up the stairs.

Since my brother had died and Vinny had kept me from becoming a Silhouette, the days had been peaceful. I finished up my junior year while Vinny adjusted to his new life, Cian and I spending virtually every day together. In fact, it was strange that I couldn't find him here today. If he went anywhere, at least, he usually called me.

Vinny's bedroom was directly across from Cian's, residue from a "Keep Out" sticker stuck to his door. I knocked softly, cracking the door open. "Magneto?"

I swung the door open. Vinny sat cross-legged on his bed, black headphones clapped over his ears. Little shoots of flaxen hair stuck up where his headphones ruffled them. He looked up at me as I entered, grinning. "Hey," he greeted, uncovering his ears.

The difference between the two brothers, if not evident in a million other ways, was obvious if you looked at their bedrooms. While Cian's was dark and far from neat, Vinny's walls were a light sky blue, and not one item was out of place. His desk was clear, bed neatly made, soccer and baseball trophies lined up crisply on his shelves—organized by size. Even the wood floors were free of dust, not one article of clothing peeking out from a drawer. The air smelled like Febreze.

Vinny, who, thankfully, had abandoned his swim trunks, was clothed simply in a pair of gym shorts and T-shirt. It had been his go-to style since he'd come out of his coffin.