Page 155 of The Penalty

“Why would you need that? Do you think I’m going to rob you?” He is getting madder by the second.

I scrub a hand over my face, blowing out a breath while I take a second to reset so I don’t make this situation worse. “It’s not anything from you. That was part of my dad’s will.”

“Your dad didn’t even know me! What reason would he have to not trust me!?” Teddy’s face turns red and if I don’t save this soon, he might just explode.

“It has nothing to do with you! It’s something my dad left me. He did it for each of his kids. It’s not to keep anything from you. For fuck’s sake. I don’t even know what’s in the damn box. I can’t bring myself to look.” I realize I’m yelling and force myself to shut up.

Teddy softens and shuffles over to sit next to me on the floor. “What do you mean you can’t bring yourself to look?”

I lift my shoulders, trying not to get emotional about it. “I don’t know.”

“Is this you bottling your brain again, like your therapist said you do all the time?” He’d told me I needed therapy after everything that was going on in both our lives, so we agreed to go together. “You know you can’t build a life in a bottle.”

I hate it when he’s insightful, so I shoot a glare in his direction. “Maybe. And that’s not what she said.”

“It is what she said. You’re bottling your brain.”

I laugh, because what else can I do? “I’m bottling my emotions, not my brain.”

“That’s what I said. It’s all pickling.”

“What?”

“Pickles are in bottles.” Teddy says, so matter of fact, I can’t even argue with him.

“My brain is not pickled.”

“I would argue it is. It’s brined.”

“How do you even know what brine means?”

“Because I know things.” Teddy acts all smug. “What do people even use those for? Like super secret cookie recipes? Porn you don’t want your family to find?”

“I don’t know. What if it’s filled with skeletons?”

Teddy pulls back aghast, and I can’t figure out what he’s reacting to.

“What?”

“Was your father a cinnamon toast crunch killer?”

I blink. “Serial killer?”

“That’s what I said.”

“You said cinnamon toast crunch.”

“Because it’s the cereal I most relate to you.”

“I’m gonna put a pin in why you think I’m cinnamon toast crunch, and ask why you think my dad was a serial killer?”

“You said he had a box of skeletons!”

“I meant family skeletons.”

“I think you’re still a killer, even if you’re killing family members.”

I sigh. “I mean like family secrets.”

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