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the lake is still, the surface like glass, reflecting the muted gray of the overcast sky. you and josh sit on an old wooden dock, your legs dangling over the edge, the water lapping quietly beneath you.
the lodge is far behind, the distance giving you both a sense of isolation, a place where the weight of everything can't press down quite as hard. but here, surrounded by the stillness, you could feel josh's pain radiating off him, even though he hasn't said a word.
his hands were clenched into fists in his lap, knuckles white, you could see the tension in his body, the way he's holding himself together by a thread. you've been sitting here for a while, letting the silence stretch out, waiting for him to speak.
finally, he exhales, his breath shaky. "this was one of their favorite places, you know?" his voice is soft, almost fragile, like he was afraid of breaking the quiet around you.
you turn to look at him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his expression. his eyes were fixed on the water, but you can tell he's not really looking at it. he's somewhere else, somewhere in the past.
"beth and hannah," he continues, his voice growing quieter. "we used to come here all the time when we were kids. they loved it... i used to bring them down here to get away from everything, you know? away from the stress, the bullshit... i thought this place would have kept us safe."
the weight of his words settles heavily between you. you reach out, placing your hand gently on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles. "josh... you couldn't have known."
he flinched slightly at your touch, but he didn't pull away. instead, he shakes his head, letting out a bitter, broken laugh. "i should've. i should've done something. i should've been there for them, but i wasn't. i... i didn't protect them."
his voice cracks on the last word, you can feel the flood of emotions he's been holding back threatening to break through. his hands tremble, he clenches them tighter, as if trying to keep himself from falling apart.
"i still hear them sometimes," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "when i close my eyes... i can hear them calling out for me. asking why i didn't help them. why i let them die."
you tighten your grip on his arm, your heart breaking at the pain in his voice. "josh, it wasn't your fault. you couldn't have known what was going to happen to them."
he shakes his head again, more forcefully this time, tears welling up in his eyes. "but i should've been there! i should've stopped them from going out that night. i should've... i should've been a better brother."
his voice cracks again, and the tears spill over, sliding down his cheeks. he quickly wipes them away, almost like he's ashamed to let you see him like this. but you don't let go. you move closer, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.
"it's not your fault," you whisper against his shoulder, your own voice thick with emotion. "you loved them. you did everything you could."
for a moment, he's still, like he's not sure whether to let himself break. but then, slowly, he leans into you, his body trembling as the sobs finally break free. he cries into your shoulder, his grief raw and unrestrained, years of guilt and pain pouring out of him.
you hold him tight, whispering soft reassurances as he lets it all out, the weight of his loss finally too much to bear alone.
"i miss them so much," he chokes out between sobs. "i'd do anything to bring them back."
your heart aches for him, and you tighten your arms around him, holding him as close as you can. "i know," you whisper. "i know. but you're not alone. i'm here, and i'm not going anywhere."
for the first time in a long while, you feel him relax into your arms, the tension in his body slowly releasing as he lets himself grieve. you stay there for a long time, sitting on the dock, the stillness of the lake surrounding you both. and though the pain of his loss will never truly go away, tonight, at least,
