Lucie

Cian hadn't given me much information, just a brisk phone call in which all he said was that "we need to talk." From further pestering I'd learned that it was not about us but rather about Vinny, which did little to calm my nerves. This had been what we'd all been afraid of, that something was wrong with him, some annoying complication beyond our comprehension.

What were we supposed to do if we lost him again?

No. I refused to think that way.

I stepped into the foyer, slipping my key into my back pocket as I shut the door behind me. The television was on in the living room, warbled and unclear voices getting louder as I trailed down the hall. I saw the TV screen first: a broadcast of some heavily biased political news program, on the subject of nothing interesting. Then I saw him-Mr. Horne, reclined back on the couch, still dressed in his neatly pressed work clothes, hair slick and clean. His eyes met mine as I entered, and as there always was with him, I got the feeling he was examining me, watching my every move and listening to my every word. Almost as if he was asking himself, Why would my son choose you?

I tried not to squirm. "Hey, Mr. Horne," I managed around the dryness of my throat. I had to fight to keep any accusation out of my tone. I already hadn't put all of my trust into him, as there seemed to be too much lurking underneath his skin, where no one could see. After seeing him outside the coffee shop, however, my trust sunk even deeper, threatening to never resurface.

"Hello, Lucie," he said, forcing a smile. I returned the favor. "Something I can help you with?"

"Oh, you know..." I began awkwardly, clearing my throat. Gesturing, I waved my phone in the air. "Cian called me, so. Do you know where I could find him?"

"Ah," Mr. Horne responded. "He and Vincent are outside."
I sputtered. There were only two things outside could mean. One, outside as in the front yard-which I had just crossed, and they weren't there-and two, outside as in the backyard. The Hornes' backyard was a dock, from which Vinny had stayed far away since his unintentional resurrection. Going outside was one thing, but going near water? What was he thinking?

I realized too much time had passed since I'd said anything, and that Mr. Horne was watching me with cold eyes, frozen versions of Cian's. "Uh...like the backyard, outside? The...the dock?"

Mr. Horne arched an eyebrow. "Yes, that's what I mean."

"Oh," I murmured, my eyes sliding to the ground. I tugged on a curl of my hair, trying to fight images of Vinny's terrified expression, lips quivering and eyes widening, when he'd visited the place he'd died, back when he'd been a ghost. He hadn't wanted to go; Cian had forced him. It did not end well. Had the same thing happened here, now? "Oh. I should...go, then. He's waiting for me. Thanks. Bye."

I didn't hear Mr. Horne utter a farewell, but felt his gaze following me all the way to the back door. God. How was I ever going to tell Cian what I'd seen? What if he already knew?

I shook my head, deciding it was best not to think about it. We had to focus on Vinny right now; if he wasn't okay, nothing was. I stepped out into the thick air, warm breezes caressing me as I hop-skipped down the grassy slope and to the Horne's dock. The wood was painted a bright white, a beauteous accent against the clear azure of the bay's water, miniature waves lapping rhythmically against the dock's feet. The smell of salt and sunbaked sand carried in the wind.

Cian and Vinny sat beside each other, pantlegs rolled up to their knees, feet dangling over the water. From here, they were the picture of ideal youth: wind in their hair and playing with their clothes, sun-kissed skin, faint smiles on their faces as they exchanged playful words with each other. They were the way brothers were supposed to be.

I was grinning to myself when Cian looked up, eyes lighting as he saw me. "Hey! Muffin!"

It was as if the argument about his wings had never happened; I found myself grateful for it. "Hey, is...is everything okay? Your call freaked me out," I replied, clearing the slope and sliding out of my flip flops, padding out onto the dock with bare feet. Cian scooted over, making a spot between him and Vinny for me to sit.

Cian said, "Well, yes and no."

My chest tightened. "Do I want to know?"

On my right, Vinny sighed, slumping his shoulders. I noticed he was breathing hard, his eyes trained on the water below him. I reached out a tentative hand, setting it on his knee. "Vinny, are you sure you want-"

"I want to be out here."

His voice was sharp, so I didn't argue with him. I just shot his older brother a confused look. Cian shrugged, moving hair from out of his eyes. "He said he wanted to go the dock, so..."

"I'm trying," Vinny murmured, hanging his head. "I'm trying to get back to normal. I don't care what I have to do. I can't...I can't be this afraid my whole life, or I'll be wasting it. My second chance."

His skin was feverish underneath my palm, and he was quivering. I pretended like it didn't unnerve me, and lifted my hand, ruffling his hair instead. He raised an eyebrow at me, but I saw on his face that he couldn't stifle a grin. "Okay, Vinny. Just don't exhaust yourself. You have nothing to prove."

The smile faded. "Maybe not to you."

Cian looked alarmed. "Vince-"

"Look," he said, "just tell her, alright? Everything."

There was an undeniable bitter note in Vinny's voice, like too much baking soda in a cupcake. I wondered what brought him here-what had caused his shoulders to stiffen and his temperature to raise and his nerves to go out of control. What had gotten inside of his head to make him think that the dock-of all places-was where he needed to be?

Maybe not to you.

Cian reached back and flipped his hood up, drawing his legs up and crossing them. Turning a grave expression towards me, he said, "Vinny and I went out again today. It was a hamburger run, you know, seemed to be going well and all. Then, there was this kid-"

Vinny cut in: "Felix."

Cian nodded at him. "Yes. Felix. He was on Vinny's soccer team."

My heart sunk into my stomach, cold washing through me. I shivered so suddenly that Vinny looked up in alarm. "Oh God."

"That's not even the worst part," Vinny added with a frown. He clutched his knees to his chest, looking away for a moment. "When Felix was there, I...I froze up. Literally. I just stopped functioning. I could say a few words, maybe, but other than that-God, I don't even know if I was conscious."

"And now?" Cian went on from my other side. "Now Felix wants to be buddies again. He told Vinny to come to his house tomorrow night."

"To do what?" I asked, raking a hand back through my hair.

"Beats me. To talk, or something like that?"

For a moment, I sat in silence, mulling it over. Vinny, seen by someone from his past. I couldn't imagine what both of them must be feeling-Felix, an odd mix of emotions at seeing his friend, who he had thought was dead, and Vinny, a sense of fear, relief, regret? What was running through his head? In the solemn whistling of the wind, I turned to the former ghost. "Vinny...what are you going to do?"

He surprised both Cian and me by getting suddenly to his feet. He shook his head, turning and starting back for the house. "Vinny!" I called after him.

He stopped. "Well, I sure as heck can't go. What am I supposed to say? I can't make up a story for something this crazy. And...what if I freeze up again? Or something worse, this time? Who knows?"

I watched his back for a moment, the wind ripping at his shirt, blowing the blond strands of his hair astray. There, silhouetted against the sun's afternoon light, he was a mere shadow, lonely and cold. He had a pulse now, had newfound air in his lungs-he was supposed to be happy. He was supposed to have left his perpetual feeling of loneliness back in the earth with his coffin, was supposed to be moving on. I looked at him now, though, and saw nothing close to that. Where-what-was happiness for this boy?

How could I find it?

I noticed as I approached him that his shoulders were shaking. He may have been telling himself that being that close to the dock didn't bother him, but his trembling body and chattering teeth told the truth. "Vinny," I tried again, laying a hand on his shoulder. He stopped shivering, but didn't look at me. "Let me rephrase. What do you want to do?"

"Lucie..."

"It's okay," I said. "Tell me."

Vinny turned; I dropped my hand. With a glance over my shoulder at his older brother, he lowered his gaze to the grass and answered, "I miss them. Felix, my soccer team, I miss playing soccer. But I don't want to go if I'm just going to freak out again."

"Fair enough," called Cian, stepping towards us with his hands in his pockets. He gave both of us a lopsided grin, the gesture stretching the scar at his lip to a fine line. There was a mischievous light in the sapphire of his eyes, one I had seen many times before. "Okay, listen, little bro. Here's the plan."

"You have a plan?" I commented. "Since when do you plan things?"

Cian slid an arm around me. "Since I discovered winging it is not effective for all situations," he responded with a small chuckle, then looked to his brother, who was watching him with the slightest expression of worry. "Look, Vinny. If you want to go, then you should. Just maybe not...alone."

Vinny's eyes lit. "That's a thought..."

"Yeah," I agreed with a nod. "That way, you know, if something happens, Cian and I can get you out of there. You should socialize, though. Imthink it'd be good for you."

Vinny scoffed, tugging at his shirt collar. "Better than staying locked up in my room all day."

"Exactly," I commended, smiling in approval. Vinny looked less pale now, a small grin at his lips and his eyes alive with youthful excitement. There it was-this was how I wanted him to always be.

With an uncomfortable sigh, I frowned and tapped Cian's fingers with my own. Again, my brain sent me unrelenting images of Mr. Horne yesterday-the drunken way in which he'd looked at that woman. I couldn't tell Vinny, not yet, not now, when he was so jovial, but Cian would listen, right? "Vinny...can I talk to Cian for a sec? Alone?"

His eyes narrowed with a concern I'd known he would feel, but nevertheless, he shrugged and started back for the house. Cian let me go, waiting until his brother had shut the back door behind him to turn to me. When he did, he furrowed his eyebrows, his lips downturned in a frown. "Is everything okay? Is it about..."

"No. I-I don't want to talk about your wings right now. It's...something else."

The sun lit in Cian's eyes like the embers of a young flame. His voice was wary. "I'm not liking how this sounds."

"I haven't even said anything yet!"

"I don't like the way you're looking at me, then," Cian corrected, a minimal smile on his face, which was only fleeting. He sighed, itching at the scruffy, unkempt hairs at the nape of his neck. "Go ahead and tell me what you need to tell me, Lulu. You know I'm impatient."

And that he was, but for some reason when I opened my mouth to speak, nothing came out. I kept trying to form the words on my tongue: I think there may be something your father's not telling you, or at least something along those lines, but nothing came. I realized with a start that it was because I was scared, terrified of Cian's reaction. Would he grow so angry that he lost control? Would he tell Vinny? Or, even worse, would he tell me he had already known?

What if that's what had been tearing him apart lately, not the fact that he didn't know where he belonged?

"Lucie?"

The sound of my name snapped me from my reverie. I shook my head, lifting my eyes to his. "Uh, nevermind," I said hastily. "Sorry for wasting your time. I think I'll go check on Vinny."

I started for the back door, but Cian reached out, gripping my hand. "Hey. Come on. You can tell me."

I winced at the lie on my lips, burning and bitter as acid.

"There's nothing to tell."