For a minute I think my head might actually explode. “Seriously, I’m the asshole here? I’m the asshole? How the fuck did that happen?”
“Because you never ask. You just assume and you just do. I lost the use of my legs, Ash, not my brain. I’m still me. I still count.”
“I know that!”
“Do you? Do you really? Because you never ask me what I want. You never ask me what I think is best. I never wanted you to feel guilty about boarding. Why the hell do you think I called Tansy to begin with? I love seeing you board. I always have. And yes, I need you around. But there’s Victor and Z and Cam and Luc who can help out when you’re not here. And there’s me. You always forget, there’s me, Ash.”
“I never forget you, Logan.”
“But you do.” He’s not yelling now. He just sounds tired. As tired as I feel. “You’re always trying to do what you think is right for the cripple, but you never stop to ask if it actually is right. For me. Not the kid who’s paralyzed but me. Logan. Your little brother. I’m the same person I was, the same person I’ve always been. But you can’t see that anymore. You can’t see me.”
“That’s not true.” I walk to him then, drop down on my knees beside his bed and pull him into a tight hug. As his arms go around me and he holds me just as fiercely, I realize how long it’s been since we’ve done this. Since I’ve hugged him.
Oh, I carry him around sometimes. Lift him up onto the exam tables at the doctors’ offices. Help him into and out of his chair if he needs it. I offer him a careless fist bump or a pat on the shoulder, but I don’t hug him anymore. I haven’t hugged him, I realize sickly, since those first days in the hospital, when he woke up from the coma.
A fresh wave of guilt washes over me as he buries his face in my neck and I pretend I don’t feel the hot rush of his tears against my skin. Pretend I don’t feel the burn against the back of my own eyelids.
Logan clings to me for long seconds, shaking, and I cling to him just as hard. It’s not until he starts sniffling a little, like he’s trying to get himself under control, that I finally pull back and let him go.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him.
He shrugs. “It’s fine. I overreacted.”
“No.” I grab his chin between my fingers, turn his face to mine. “You didn’t. If this is how you feel, then we need to talk about it. We need to fix it.”
“That’s what I’m saying, Ash. You can’t fix me—”
“I’m not trying to fix you. But this”—I gesture between us—“I’m definitely going to fix this. Because I love you and I have never, for one second, wanted you to be anything but what you are.”
The words are crowding my brain again, crowding my tongue, so I take a minute to figure out exactly what I want to say. “I’m always going to be upset that you’re paralyzed, Logan. And I’m probably always going to feel guilty about it—”
“That’s not—”
I hold a hand up, wait for him to rein his own temper in and listen to me. “But you’re right. I’ve been letting what I think you need get in the way of what you actually do need. I read books, talked to your doctors, watched your PT and OT, listened to Victor and Sarah … I’ve done everything I thought I should do. But in all that, I forgot to talk to you. Forgot to listen to you. And for that, I’m sorry. Because you’re right. This is your life and I have no right to try to make all these decisions for you.
“I’ll say that a lot of it is not just because of you being paralyzed. It’s about me trying to be your fucking guardian when I can barely figure my own shit out. I feel so … incompetent. And that’s hard for me. You know? Because I always do have a plan. I always know what I’m supposed to do to make certain things happen. And then, suddenly, I’m in charge of you. Not just your brother, but the person who is supposed to be responsible for your well-being. For making sure that you’re okay.
“And that fucked with my head. I’m not going to lie. It still fucks with my head. Because I do love you, Logan. And I do want what’s best for you. But in the middle of all that, in the middle of dealing with Mom and Dad and your paralysis and everythin
g else, I forgot the most important thing. I’m still your brother. I’m still the guy who taught you to snowboard and you’re the kid who spent most of my teenage years pranking me every way you could.”
Logan’s watching me now, eyes wide and mouth slack, like I’ve somehow managed to surprise him. Which just makes me feel worse, because what I’m saying shouldn’t be a surprise to either of us, yet somehow it is.
“I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry I lost sight of what’s important—”
“No, Ash. It’s okay. You’ve been trying really hard—”
“Maybe too hard. Maybe I need to chill out a little and listen to what you want, for once.”
His eyes go impossibly wider. “Really? You mean that?”
I take a deep breath, run a hand over the back of my neck. “Yeah, Logan, I do.”
“Awesome!”
“But, hey, you’ve got to work with me, too. Because I’m your brother, but I am also your guardian. I will listen to you and what you want and what you think—I promise that. But there are still going to be times when I have to tell you no. And you’re going to have to accept that. I’ll try to be more reasonable, try not to do that unless I really, really have to. But when I do, I need you to listen to why I’m making the decision I’m making. Does that seem fair?”
“All I want is for you to listen, Ash. To remember that I’m still a person and not just your paralyzed brother who you’re responsible for. And I’m probably not always going to like the decisions you make—and you’ll have to deal with me fighting you about them—but I promise to listen to you, too. To hear you out about what you think. Good enough?”