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you.”
    “I feel like you should be thanking me for that now,” Greta said. “You were obnoxious. ”
    Calder laughed, feeling oddly at home, fighting with his little sister in the back seat of a minivan.
    Weird that we can spend years apart and fall right back into it , he thought.
    Maybe I belong here, despite everything.
    “Want to see if we can annoy Ingrid enough for her to curse us out in front of her kids?” Greta asked, grinning.
    Ingrid put her face in her hands.
    “Drive faster!” she called.

    The rehearsal dinner wasn’t so bad, Calder thought. He was seated between Shane and one of Ingrid’s mates — Norman, maybe? He could not remember the man’s name and the whiskey wasn’t exactly helping — and the food was good, plus the drinks were free.
    Rehearsing itself had been the hard part, even though it had taken twenty minutes. The bar hadn’t been open yet, and Calder had to do it sober.
    All he had to do was walk down the aisle, escorting Ingrid, then stand to the side and act interested. When the ceremony was over, he had to escort Ingrid back down the aisle. He didn’t even have to hold Greta’s bouquet.
    It was still hard. He couldn’t watch Elliott whisper something into Shane’s ear as they stood up front, waiting for Greta, watch the smile on Shane’s face. He couldn’t see them watch his sister come down the aisle and he couldn’t handle the way she fucking glowed as she walked toward them.
    As she held their hands, Elliott rubbed one thumb over the back of Greta’s hand. It was so obviously a habit, something that he did every time they held hands, that Calder had to close his eyes and pretend that he was somewhere else.
    I can’t believe this , he thought. It’s been so long and nothing is better. I’m still just as broken as I was .
    That wasn’t quite true, he realized, standing there with his eyes closed. It had been years since he imagined Marie every time he closed his eyes, years since her beautiful, dead face haunted his dreams.
    He still thought of her. He thought of her all the time, but now when he thought of her, she was alive and laughing. Lacing up her running shoes, or planning some ambitious hike. Sliding onto his lap as he sat on the couch, reading a book, her arms around his neck.
    Thinking of her didn’t really hurt anymore, he realized with a shock. He’d always miss her. He’d always love her, but she was gone and that wasn’t going to change.
    Calder had no idea what to do with this strange, sudden knowledge, and he stood there, blinking.
    “Then I pronounce you husbands and wife,” the justice of the peace was saying, her glasses down her nose as she read from a binder. “You kiss, all that.”
    And then Calder did what he’d been trying all night desperately not to do.
    He thought of Sam, and he watched Elliott and Shane and Greta all kiss, and he couldn’t stop thinking of Sam. Sam was still alive, and Sam was probably somewhere, right now, with another mate, happily snuggled on a couch .
    Marie wasn’t coming back, and that was for certain. But Sam was still alive, and he was somewhere in Rustvale, and that was a wound that hadn’t healed even a little in seven years.
    Ingrid handed Greta’s bouquet back, and Greta looped her arms through Elliott and Shane’s, and they walked back through the room, pretending there was an aisle. Calder shook himself back to reality, Ingrid took his arm, and they followed.
    “Okay,” Greta said, once everyone was finished. “I don’t think you’ll embarrass us.”
    “That’s all we hoped for,” Calder said, teasing his little sister.

    He was the first person at the bar, scanning the whiskey behind it and ordering a double Maker’s Mark on the rocks. His new suit was starting to get uncomfortable: the vest didn’t fit quite right, and kept riding up a little, the jacket a tiny bit too tight across the shoulders.
    Calder knocked back a slug of whiskey, straightened up, and told himself to deal with