Blib

"You're going to be the death of me," I mumbled, playfully glaring in Nick's direction.

"Death?" he giggled, "I'm trying to get you healthy."

I was sick. The doctor's office was one of my least favorite places in the entire world so I hadn't gone, but I was pretty sure it was the flu or something. Joe had hung around for a while but not long. My boyfriend was voted #3 Cutest Guy in America in CosmoGirl Magazine (Zac Efron and Michael Phelps were #1 and 2), so he'd had to fly out for a mini interview and photoshoot. Since he couldn't be with me, he told Nick to keep me company. I didn't mind; the boy was pretty much my best friend after all.

"Could you work on the health situation without being so bossy?" I smiled sweetly.

Nick gasped, "Me? Bossy? Never!"

"For the past 48 hours you have been shoving food down my throat, overdosing me on cough syrup, and asking me how I feel every ten seconds," I whined.

"Sorry I care," he frowned and pretended to be hurt.

"I'd give you a hug but I might be contagious," I told him.

"I'll take the risk," Nick smiled and gave me a quick squeeze, "Are you sure you're not hungry?"

"I'm fine," I groaned, "That's the eighth time you've asked in the past two hours."

"Maybe you're not hungry, but you're definitely not fine. What's up with you?" he asked, concern clear in his voice.

"Nothing," I murmured, and pulled the blankets over my face.

Nick got up from my desk and sat on the edge of my bed. I was happy he didn't pressure me to say anything because, really, I wasn't sure he'd understand how I was feeling. With an amusing grin playing on his lips, he pulled the blankets away from my face. The silence was comfortable for a few moments but Nicholas had other ideas.

"You can tell me anything," he said softly, "you know that, don't you?"

"Yeah," I replied, "but it's kind of about your brother."

"I won't say anything to him if you don't want me to," he promised.

"CosmoGirl voted Joe the third cutest guy in the country. My two best friends are 7th and 16th, what in God's name am I doing here?" I wondered aloud.

"Don't sell yourself short Brenna. You're beautiful. You're here because we all love you. I mean, Joe's head over heels for you. Kevin thinks your awesome. You're always there when I need a friend, and even Frankie adores you," Nick smiled.

"I'm not beautiful. I'm just ... me. You guys are famous. You're the envy of every girl out there. Sometimes I wonder if I'm good enough," I sighed.

"Brenna, you're more than good enough. You're my best friend. It doesn't matter how cute CosmoGirl thinks my brothers and I are," he told me, "You'll always be my best friend."

So much for always. The worst part was that my mom didn't understand why I was so upset. She'd never liked the Jonases so Nick's death didn't scathe her. I guess she thought I should be as bulletproof as she was. Except I wasn't. At all. I'd been with Joe the night of the accident and all of yesterday so I tried to keep it together for his sake. Now that I was sitting alone in my room with mother yelling through the locked door about how childish I was being, I was getting rather angry.

Angry at my mom for not understanding the pain I was feeling, angry at Joe for having to be with his family and not with me, angry at the drunk driver who'd taken Nick from me, but mostly I was angry at Nick for saying we'd be friends forever and then leaving me all alone.

"Brenna, unlock the damn door," my mother yelled, "He was just a guy. There'll be plenty more."

That set me off. Plenty more? That was a load of bull. There was only one Nicholas Jerry Jonas and he was gone. Suddenly I snapped. All the anger inside me finally boiled over and I snapped. I threw the picture of Kevin, Joe, Nick and I that was on my nightstand to the floor. The glass in the frame shattered but I didn't care.

"I hate you!" I screamed at Nick's smiling face, "I hate you."

Broken glass scraped my fingers as I yanked the picture out of the mangled frame. I held it as though I was going to rip it, but I couldn't bring myself to do so. Instead I sank to the floor and let the tears flow freely from my blue eyes. I hugged the picture to my chest and sobbed.

"I miss you," I mumbled through a fresh onslaught of tears, "I miss you."

There was a knock at my door so I knew it wasn't Mom. She yells, she doesn't knock. I put the photo on my bed and walked over to the door and tried to compose myself before opening it, but it didn't work too well. I couldn't stop crying.

"What did you do?" Joe asked softly, taking my hands in his.

I had forgotten that they were all bloody from the broken picture frame. He saw the picture on my bed and his left eye twitched a little like it does when he's trying not to cry.

"He promised me. He said he'd always be my best friend. Always," I sobbed into the crook of Joe's neck.

"I know," Joe told me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"It's not fair," I said and continued to cry.

Joe was crying too now. I could feel his tears on my shoulder. It was funny because before the accident, I'd never seen Joe cry. He was always the strong one. He had no inhibitions. And yet, here he was crying.

"Life's not fair," Joe grumbled, "life sucks."

"I don't even remember what the last thing I said to him was," I said, "We were on the phone, but I don't remember what we said."

"I told him I hated him," Joe whispered, ashamed.

"He knows you didn't mean it, Baby" I said and ran my fingers through his dark brown curls.

"The last thing I said was that I hated him. And, in the moment, I meant it," he informed me.

"Why?" I asked curiously, the tears subsiding.

"He told me had liked you," Joe informed me.

"Well duh," I giggled through tears, "He was my bestie!"

"No, I mean he liked you as more than friend."