The Longest Five Years (Completed)

Prologue

A/N: Thanks for stopping by and checking out my latest story! I welcome all feedback and really enjoy your thoughts!

There are some strong themes in a few chapters, but they are identified by an author's note posted at the start of each one.
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"I can't believe you're here," my sister says, pulling me against her.

"Kinda still feel like I'm on a plane. I guess eight hours in the air will do that," I say, to keep the conversation easy; this moment is a lot more intense that it probably should be. I haven't set foot on American soil in almost five years, and I can only pretend being back is no big deal for so long.

It's a huge deal.

She squeezes me tighter for one more second, and the moment she releases me the threat of tears burns my eyes. Now that she's right in front of me, I finally feel the weight of just how much I missed her. It wasn't her fault I left; for years I tried to believe it wasn't mine, either. But I'm older now, and I understand that not every bad thing that happens is someone's fault. It's just life, and someone has to make decisions.

"I need to plan a trip out to see you one of these days. Did I seriously go five whole years only seeing this face on a webcam?" she teases, pinching my cheeks. I swat her hand away playfully and laugh. For a moment, it's as if I'm ten-years-old again, hanging out with my big sister; as long as we're together, nothing bad can touch us. Then I remember what finally brought me home, and realize I'm not ten anymore.

I'm not nineteen anymore either, crying over a grown man I can't have. I'm twenty-four, and no matter what happened or how long it's been, I booked a flight home the moment I heard about the accident. It was like the pain never existed.

I take a breath and distance myself from her a bit so I can gather my thoughts. The way I'm feeling, I could very easily liquify and become a puddle next to the one we're about to step in. I adjust my bag on my shoulder as we begin to walk.

I never intended to stay in Ireland permanently. Every time an opportunity rolled around for me to fly home for awhile, I found a reason not to come back.

I'm busy with work. I'm on a holiday with Benson. I'm sick with the flu. My band has a gig.

Honestly, I missed a lot - my parents 25th wedding anniversary party, Erin's college graduation, celebrating my 21st birthday with my hometown friends, and Luke's wedding. It was easier to be away, but I do feel guilty for leaving my family the way I did.

"Any news?" I ask softly. "About him?" I add carefully. I shouldn't be walking on eggshells around Erin. We may not have seen each other in a few years, but I've talked to her endless nights on the phone. Though it took me a long time to admit, she knows why coming home was so difficult.

"He was in surgery but has been out for awhile. We have the green light to see him whenever we're ready," she says, her voice fragile. "Like I said, I was talking to him just an hour before it happened. He said goodbye like he always does, so much more sincere than I ever expect, then bam! I get a phone call from Mom saying he's in the hospital."

She'd called me an hour before my alarm was set to go off. It was 4 am by me, 10pm there, and I could barely make out what she was saying through the hysteria in her voice. Motorcycle accident.

Flight for life. Road rash. Unconscious. Each word twisted my stomach more, and I wished so badly that this was all just a nightmare.

Now I'm here, some 16 hours later, with my heart torn open and an incurable need to just breathe the same air as him one more time. Just in case it's the last.