First and Last Read Online Free Page A

and her face in her hands. No one has said anything to me, but they don’t have to. I already know.
    Dad.
    Something bad has happened.
    I feel it in my gut.
    It’s in the way the hair on the back of my neck stands on end and the way my mother looks up at me like her world just ended.
    The walls are closing in, suffocating me as each second ticks by that my mother doesn’t say anything. Her mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It’s as if she can’t bring herself to do it, to completely shatter me like she is.
    I don’t move. Maybe if I stand here long enough, it’ll all go away. But no matter how still I am or how much I wish it away, that’s not life, and it comes crashing down on me with the sole purpose of destroying my soul.
    “Blake, sweetie,” my mom’s broken voice says.
    “Where is he?” My mind knows what’s going on, but my heart refuses to accept it. It’s not true, it can’t be.
    She stands on shaky legs as tears run down her cheeks. Her arms reach out and she grabs me, clutching me to her body as she trembles. My arms lay limply at my sides, unable to comfort her in return. I’m numb and in a state of disbelief. Mom lets go and falls back into the chair. She looks up at me with red-rimmed eyes and presses her lips together to keep her chin from quivering. The image only breaks me. Knowing the cause of it makes it almost impossible to breathe.
    “Mom?” My voice cracks despite my efforts to come across strong.
    “Oh, God, Blake,” she whispers. Her hand covers her mouth, and she squeezes her eyes shut. Slowly, I have a seat in the chair next to her. She grabs my hand and delivers the news. “There was a fire at a warehouse. And—and—he didn’t make it.” She swallows hard and her lip trembles while her tear-filled eyes stare into mine.
    I feel sick. He was almost done. He was retiring in six months. This has to be a dream. I don’t say anything or cry. I’m just empty.
    “You can take Blake home now if you want, Mrs. Collins,” the school guidance counselor offers.
    Mrs. Collins .
    Not anymore. Now she’s a widow, no longer a wife. She has no husband just like I have no dad.
    “Is there someone I can call to come pick you up?” she continues to ask.
    Mom shakes her head. “No, we’ll be fine.” She stands and I follow her lead out to the car and eventually home. Luke is there when we arrive, his eyes red-rimmed and nose sniffling.
    “Hey,” he offers weakly. I nod my head at him, walk by, and head straight up to my room.
    Lying on my bed, I stare up at the ceiling. Dad was taking me fishing this weekend on his day off. That thought leads to several more, which all have to do with the things I’ll never get to do with my dad again.
    I’m not sure how long I lie there unmoving, but suddenly there’s a soft knock on my door. I don’t respond or look that way; not that I need to, because whoever it is lets themselves in anyway. Seconds later, Mia comes into view.
    “Hey.” Seems that’s all anyone knows how to say lately. When I don’t respond, she says, “I’m so sor—”
    “No,” I say, cutting her off. “Just . . . don’t say it.” I’m not ready to hear people’s pity. If she says it out loud, it makes it more real. For now, I want to stay in my bubble and fight to pretend this isn’t happening.
    The bed dips as she lies beside me and then holds my hand. I’m taking deep breaths in and out of my nose, focusing on my breathing and nothing else. If I think about anything, the emotion I’m trying so damn hard to hold back will burst, and I don’t want to lose it in front of her.
    Mia must sense my internal struggle. “It’s okay to cry,” she whispers. “I won’t tell anyone.”
    I crack, splinter off, then break into a million pieces. Sobs take over my body as I turn toward her. She faces me and I bury my face into her neck while I cry. Her arms are wrapped around me, holding me to her.
    “Oh, God, Mia. He’s gone.” My loud sobs drown out whatever