Never Been Nerdy(85)

This is a family thing. What the hell am I doing here? But… Dean wants me here, for some crazy ass reason.

“Hey, bro,” the dude says, letting go of his girl’s hand and moving towards Dean. The younger Carter brother moves forward but checks himself when he sees me, and Dean isn’t letting me go.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dean says, voice flat and devoid of his personality.

“Hi,” I say, letting go of Dean’s limp hand and sticking it out for a shake. Dean’s younger brother, Max, takes it and gives it a one-two pump then drops my hand. I can’t tell in the shitty lighting, but the overall Carter-gene resemblance is so there. Although Dean still tops him by a couple of inches, and for some reason, that makes me want to shake my ass.

So stupid. Can’t you see he’s in pain?

Yeah, well, I don’t do well with heavy emotions. That’s Sera’s specialty. I just end up getting pissed and saying stupid shit that I’m too chicken shit to say otherwise.

“I’m Max,” younger brother says, and reaches back for his girl’s hand. “This is my girlfriend, Anna,” he introduces us, and I shake her hand. I cringe when she gives me the tips of her fingers and jellyfish holds my hand with zero authority.

I shouldn’t judge, I shouldn’t judge.

Nope, I’m going to judge. Maybe later, when Dean isn’t feeling so low.

“I’m Katie,” I say to both of them, and make my eyes skitter over to the tombstone. Ah, shit. We’re at their dad’s grave. Never in a million years would I think Dean would want me here with him.

“C’mon, baby,” Max says to Anna. “Let’s give them a minute.” Max nods my way, and Dean and I are left alone before the white stone, an inanimate object that’s the only thing you have as a physical reminder of the person you lost.

Seems like a shitty way to remember someone to me.

“Hey, Dad,” Dean says, and I feel the tips of my ears go red. Yeah, I really shouldn’t be here. I should be on the sidewalk, next to my car.

This is too close, this is too intimate, and he’s making me feel like I’m important enough to be standing next to him while he deals with his grief.

“This is Katarina,” he says, voice still lifeless. I sniff in the cold air, watch my breath puff out in perfect clouds. We should both be somewhere warm, drinking hot chocolate. Dean should be laughing, or reading, or cooking, anything to get his mind off of this.

“I used to go to high school with her,” he continues, and I really hope he isn’t going to say what I think he is. “She’s the one that pulled that prank on me ten years ago, now. She’s the one I was in love with.”

“Dean,” I whisper, tugging on his hand now. He refuses to let me go and keeps me close to him. “I shouldn’t be here. You need to be alone.”

“She’s the one that broke my heart,” he keeps going, speaking to the stone. “I was thinking about you a lot, Pop, especially this past year. Did you know Mom started dating again?” His words come out quicker now, faster.

Dean nods, like he’s hearing a voice coming from the stone. “Yeah, it’s still weird though, watching her get all dressed up, then look down at her ring and try to pull it off. I bought her a chain so she could wear it all the time, but she’s stubborn and won’t listen to me.”

I stare at the letters carved into the tombstone, marvelling at how absolutely useless they are.

Beloved husband and father, never forgotten. What kind of consolation is that?

“I miss you a lot,” he says, voice cracking. He’s pulverizing my hand in his grip, and I struggle not to make a sound.

I’m here, Dean. I’m right here. I won’t let you go.

“I wish I could talk to you about this girl I’m having problems with. She’s driving me crazy, Dad. She’s the one that hurt me, and ever since then, I can’t get her out of my head. She doesn’t believe in love, Dad. How whacked is that? She never got to see you and Mom looking at each other the way you used to.” Dean nods again, like he’s hearing wise words. “I know, it’s my job to make that happen. I’ll… I’ll come see you soon, I promise.”

Dean stares miserably at the white stone, still holding my hand in that bruising grip.

What’s a little physical pain in the light of a soul-destroying one?

“Are you cold?” Dean asks, turning his head to look at me, really looking at me for the first time tonight.

I shake my head. Even I know the right answer to this question. I give him a tiny smile, trying to lighten the mood. His eyes zero-in on my mouth.