"I can't remember what happened that night. I'm not talking slippery details or fuzzy-edged visions; I mean a complete and utter blackout. Like I wasn't even there. Except... I know I was."
Since the death of her boyfriend six months ago, Morgan Cai...
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Josh is standing in front of me.
At least that's what my brain thinks, for a split second, before it corrects itself and the image morphs back into reality.
But this guy looks incredibly like him. He has the same square-edged jaw, thick brows, dark eyes—except with slightly softer features and a head of red hair in the place of sandy brown. There's too much similarity for this to be a coincidence.
"Oh," he says. The surprise in his voice comes from more than just the unexpected collision. "I, uh... I recognize you. Morgan, right?"
I'm paralyzed; only my eyes manage to sweep over him while every other muscle stays locked in place. Even his voice sounds familiar: slightly quieter and softer than Josh's but with that same gravelly feel. It takes me back to a weird place, a kind of in-between flashback where memory and reality blend together until I'm not sure I've got a grip on either. But eventually the image of Josh fades, my rapid heartbeat slows, and I compose myself.
"Yeah." The word quivers, so I clear my throat. "That's me."
"I'm Elliot. Josh's brother," he says. "I've heard about you, obviously... but we haven't met."
It hits me then: the sudden realization that I've seen him before. Not up close, not in the context of formal introductions—but across the stuffy chapel packed with people wanting to give Josh one last send-off. It had been mostly full of Davidson students, a sea of green polos and school colors, plus his patchwork family of foster parents and siblings old and new. I knew I had a right to be there, was expected to be there, but it didn't stop me feeling hopelessly out of place. When I glanced over my shoulder to scan the crowd, my eyes had caught on the guy hovering at the side of the room, as if strategically placed for a hasty exit. He'd been fiddling with the tie on his too-big suit, the front of his hair damp with sweat. The resemblance was unmissable—and when he sensed me staring, the sudden eye contact jolted me to life.
I thought maybe he'd catch me once the service was over, to introduce himself now that Josh wasn't around to do it. But I didn't see him for the rest of the day. Once the curtains closed on the coffin, it was like he vanished into thin air. I remember wishing I could've done the same thing.
"Oh," I say, crashing back into the present moment. "Right."
"Are you okay?"
I'm no longer crying, but I know the evidence lingers on my red-rimmed eyes and stained cheeks. With that and my dramatic exit from the student center, it doesn't take a genius to work out I've had better days.
Seriously, what is it with me and bumping into Kelleys while in floods of tears?
"I'm fine," I tell him. "Don't worry about it."
He raises an eyebrow. "Without wanting to intrude... I, uh, am kind of worried."
