The rest of the week followed the predictable pattern I've become so familiar with over the handful of years since Casey passed.

Nightmares. No sleep. A lot of ruminating on the things I can't change.

But today, today is the worst. Not just because it's his actual birthday, but because my parents have come to visit. Mom says it's important to be together on days like these.

Days like these.

Glaring out the window of the backseat of Mom's SUV, my gut clenches as we pull onto our old street. She thought it'd be a good idea to drive by our old house.

I told her it wouldn't be. What's seeing a bunch of wood and stone, a new family inside it, to make matters worse, going to do for us?

I've been avoiding our old street all summer and it's been easy enough to do as it's a pretty private neighborhood. Simply driving through, catching sight of Mr. Jimenez in his slippers, grabbing the daily paper, or Jane, the nanny down the street, cleaning the yard of her charges' toys, brings back a swell of emotions.

And when we pull in front of the house, my heart aches, taking in the sight of the large beach house. Because it's not just wood and stones - it's our home. The one where I spent the summers, growing up with my brother.

"We should go inside." Mom turns in the drivers seat, eyes urgently scanning my face.

"Are you nuts?" I roll my eyes, staring through the front windows of the home, nearly exposing the entire living room to us. Mom loved natural light. "Someone else lives there now, we can't."

A teenage boy lounges across the sofa, feet up on the cushions. I wonder for a moment, if he took Casey's old room, the thought making me nauseous immediately.

"They won't mind." Mom shakes her head, grabbing Dad's forearm as he silently looks through the passenger window. "Given the circumstances, and everything."

As if Casey's death gives us a pass to do what we want, when we want to. I roll my eyes again.

At Mom's request, Dad removes his seatbelt and slips out of the car. They wait for me, eyeing me expectantly until I shake my head.

"I'm not going." It's not a question.

Expression souring into a scowl, Mom decides not to argue, simply turning on her heel and marching up the front walkway as though she still owns the place. Dad follows, like the sad, lost puppy he's become.

I watch as she raises a manicured hand to knock at the door. Three times. Aggressive.

The teenage boy appears a moment later, followed soon after by a man who can only be his father given their similarities, and watching the shared confusion between them finally makes me look away.

When I turn back, my parents are no where to be seen, the front door closed again.

Mom always gets what she wants.

My eyes trail to the side yard, a narrow strip of grass really, pushed all the way to a white fence lining the entire property. Dad did a better job keeping the grass alive, it's now a faded yellow, the blades stiff and dried out.

Curiosity, I convince myself, leads me to unbuckle myself and hop out of the SUV, carefully closing the door behind me. I follow the grass path into the backyard, finding the tree house instantly at the far corner.

I step forward, the dry lawn itchy against the sides of my feet, but get stuck in a memory, unable to approach any closer.

I'm in our childhood treehouse, surfing posters plastered to the walls, board games lining the shelves, and a big multicolored rug covering the dusty, planked floor.

It's chilly - the late fall air raises the hair on my arms. Mom needed one last weekend at the beach, even one in jeans and sweaters, and the rest of us needed time to pack up the rest of our stuff till next summer.

A teenager, I mainly used the treehouse to read or get away from Mom when she got into a mood, but only if Casey wasn't using it to hook up with Maya.

As if on cue, his dark head comes through the hole in the floor, smoothly carved from the wood.

"Pickle, good. I thought I'd find you here." Casey pulls himself the rest of the way through and I drop my book, his presence commanding my attention.

"You were looking for me?" I prompt, crossing my legs and sitting upright.

"Yep." As if to answer me, Casey holds up his phone. "I got an email from Brown - apparently the status of my application has been updated."

"Oh my God, Case!" Not even needing to read the letter to know he's gotten in, I throw my arms around him, my excitement too much to contain.
Noticing his quietness, I rock back. "Well come on, what's it say? Did you get in?"

Casey shrugs, a sheepish grin on his face. "I haven't checked yet."

"Well, why not?" I cross my arms over my chest, brows knitting together.

Another shrug. "I don't know Dyl. I mean, what if they rejected me? What if they said no?"

Brown's been all Casey could talk about since his tour and interview over the summer. He loved it - the campus, the people, their programs and dorm life. So much so that he applied early decision. He already bought us all t-shirts. The sudden lack of excitement is weird.

I think this all through before saying anything to him. Finally, "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say, Case." I shake my head. "How could they say no? You're Casey fricken Anderson."

He gives me a look that reminds me of Mom a little, pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes, and I continue more seriously.

"Really, you're the most involved person I know. All that stuff at church, captain of the football and track teams, not to mention surf club. Class president. Stupidly, obnoxiously smart. And people love you, especially adults, and you said you really hit it off with your interviewer, right? Case, Brown would be lucky to have you."

He stares at the phone, fingers not moving. So I keep going.

"And if not, screw them, right? One of the ten back-ups on your list will surely have a spot for you. No matter what, Case, you've got this. So come on, stop stalling."

"But what about Mom and Dad, though? They'll be pissed." He groans at something that hasn't even happened yet.

Ah, to be the golden child. I frown. It was true, they were overjoyed with the thought of their son attending an Ivy League. He'd be set for life, successful by anyone's definition. Exactly where they thought he'd be, since the moment he was placed in their arms as a tiny, wriggly infant.

Saying they'd be disappointed might be an understatement.

But me? I just wanted Casey to be happy.

"Come on." I say again, tapping my fingers to his phone, shoving thoughts of our parents from my mind. Whatever they say, we'll figure it out. "Open the damn email, Casey."

His dark eyes meet mine and seem to find whatever he needs, because he looks down and quickly inputs his log in credentials.

The screen loads, a tiny wheel spinning around and around, and we huddle together, tensed and ready. The wheel stops turning, the screen goes blank for a second and then, there it is.

"Oh, my God!" We're on our feet and I hug him, jumping up and down again and again. "Case, you got in! You're going to Brown!"

"I'm going to Brown!" He shouts, running his hands through his hair, his phone discarded on the floor. "Ah, holy shit. I'm going to Brown."

"You are," I grin proudly. "Congrats big brother."

"Thanks." His returning smile is excited and goofy. "I've got to go show Mom and Dad. But thanks for pushing me Pickle. I never would've opened it without ya."

I roll my eyes. "You would have, but you're welcome - I am pretty great. Now go, if Mom finds out you waited to tell her... she'll rip your head off."

His eyes widen and he nods, half-way out of the door with his phone in his hand, when his head perks back up.

"Oh, hey, Dyl?"

"Yeah?" I settle back down, grabbing my book and finding my page.

"Don't tell Luke." Casey's brow furrows. "Not yet."

"Sure." I nod easily despite my confusion. "Whatever you say."

more family drama + some more Luke drama coming soon, I promise!
poor Casey💔
as always, poor Dylan 😭