Page 76 of Even After Sunset

That he is the one who shot my mother.

It’s still a shock. And it shifts how I replay events in my mind that I’ve been rehashing for years. But not in the way that Silas thinks. Not in the way that kept him from coming forward with the truth until seven years after the fact. He doesn’t seem to get that my mother would have died anyway: she was going to kill herself that night, regardless. She probably would have killed Silas, too.

He thinks he took a life that day, when really, he saved one.

But I’m worried it’s too late to reverse a false belief he’s had years to solidify in his mind—because it’s a belief that’s guided so much of who he is, I realize. For years he’s believed he’s a bad person. It’s what’s been the root of his crazy, unruly behavior all these years, too, I bet—not some innate affinity toward causing trouble, the way his aunt and uncle tried to paint it.

But if it took me years to understand that it was my mother’s disease that was to blame for what happened, and I was surrounded by a supportive network of people to help me deal with that. I can’t fathom how Silas will eventually come to this same understanding. He’s older, I guess, than I was when I started to confront my misconceptions. So he does have that on his side.

And he has me. I’m not going anywhere this time, no matter who tries to keep me away.

And I think he has Richard now, too. Because I can tell Richard is concerned. It makes me think back to that first year I moved in with Richard and Meryl,when I tried to convince them to adopt Silas, too. Almost every day, I would beg—tell them how much fun Silas was, how smart and how easy he would be to look after. But whenever I brought it up, they would explain in soothing voices that Silas was better off living with his own family—that he was lucky to have an aunt and uncle who were able to move in and take care of him after everything that happened.

Silas is a lot of things, but lucky has never been one of them.

I suspect now that Richard knew that, too. I think he was just trying to be positive about a bad situation he had no control over.

I turn my head and find Silas still lying beside me. He’s in the same position he was in when we lay looking up at the sky. Only his head has fallen to the side. I guess we both fell asleep.

It’s weird to see him unguarded like this. He still looks intimidating, though. It’s the cut of his jaw, I think. And those arms. I can see the swell of muscle, even with his arms stretched out, fingers clasped beneath his head. His shirt has risen up, exposing ridges of taut stomach, and I feel it again: an attraction toward him that definitely reaches beyond the boundaries of friendship.

And I think wearefriends again, now—after the picnic and the carousel and then everything last night. I really hope we are.

The breeze picks up and I shiver. The fire is completely out; even the embers are barely orange. We must have been asleep for at least a couple of hours. I sit up and lean over, laying my hand gently on Silas’s shoulder.

He awakens with a start, his eyes flashing open, and I pull back a little, afraid I startled him.

“Hey…” I say softly. “It’s just me.”

His eyes narrow in confusion, taking me in, but still not seeming to make sense of the situation. He props himself up on his forearms and glances around, still clearly confused.

“We fell asleep by the fire,” I explain. “It’s late.”

“I fell asleep?” he asks, like it’s a concept that’s utterly foreign to him. It makes me think my suspicion about his insomnia is right.

“Yeah, we both did.”

“Oh…” Then he adds, “Shit, it’s cold.”

I laugh. “Yeah, that’s why I woke you up. We need to get inside.”

He nods and stands up, glancing around.Stilllooking totally baffled. I get up too and collect the blankets, while Silas grabs the remnants of our s'mores-making materials, then we both head into Trudy’s warm belly for the rest of the night.

As Silas starts pulling out his make-shift bed, I head toward the bedroom.

“Jax?” he calls, and I pause, turning to look back at him.

“Yeah?”

“You okay?” he asks, with a look I haven’t seen on him before.

I think it might be concern.

“Yeah, I am… Areyouokay?”

He looks thrown at having the question mirrored back at him. But he nods.

“Yeah. Definitely.”

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