Page 96 of Small Sacrifices

He updates Marisol next. Her response is so full of expletives and emojis that he almost laughs. She's now in contact with the lieutenant governor, who's preparing to make a statement in the morning. A press conference has already been called. Reid's compulsive need to document everything and back it up at least twice pays off, as Marisol now has the latest notes from Mackenzie's old laptop. Not that this is the most pressing issue right now, but it seems Lieutenant Governor Coleman wants to address both matters at once. Reid can't blame her.

When Marisol asks him if he could please tell Everett that it would be best if he made some sort of statement soon, he almost throws his phone. For the first time in his life, he understands why people sometimes call in the middle of long text chains. He really, really wants to shout at her. Thankfully, it turns out that once he lets Marisol explain herself, it's not nearly as bad as he thought.

I'm not asking him to the press conference! Jesus, calm your tits. Just a written statement that clearly states what happened, even if it doesn't go into detail. We can do it through Coleman if he likes, or he can post it on his own social media and then go dark for a while. They'll probably shove cameras in his face, I imagine he'll want to get away from that.

Also, have you seen him yet? Not to put too fine a point on it, but a picture might help. If he has injuries that he's willing to show. This isn't just about the legalprocess. If he wants people on his side, he has to get them there quick.

Right. She's already thinking about PR angles on this. Reid can't fault her for that, considering their plans. But he hates it. Hates that it even needs to be considered. It's the middle of the night, they're in a hospital, and Everett's injuries are still being documented.

With Everett not there to guide them, most of it feels moot, but it occupies Reid's mind. He keeps texting Marisol, keeps thinking about it. A headache is blooming behind his temples, and he knows it's only going to get worse. He welcomes the distraction.

An alarm suddenly blares nearby, accompanied by a cacophony of loud beeping and rushed voices. At the sudden noise, Reid instinctively tries to shrink into his uncomfortable chair. Clenching his jaw only sends pain shooting up his temples.

As he struggles his way through a breathing exercise, Reid thinks that it's a good thing he's not alone. He can usually keep himself calm if someone else is depending on him. On his own, he'd be sitting in the dark, just trying not to scream. Then again, if he were alone, there'd be no one to object if he turned the lights off.

A look over into Max's corner shows that the kid is still immersed in his phone, face illuminated by the screen. Maybe Reid is just imagining that Max is depending on him. Either way, it's keeping him together. That justifies a bit of harmless delusion, doesn't it?

Both of them just about jump out of their chairs when someone knocks on the door. Reid is still a bit too caught up in his thoughts to react quickly, so it's Max who says, "Come in!"

Then he abruptly scrambles to his feet and launches himself towards the door before Reid even registers that the person who just opened it is Everett. Everett, who bites down on a sound of pain and bends himself out of the way a bit, but still hugs his little sibling back just as fiercely as he is being hugged.

"It's alright," he keeps saying, "I'm here, it's alright. It's over." Relief is coating his voice, making it thick and hoarse. The hand he's got in his sibling's hair keeps stroking almost automatically. He doesn't even stop when the splint gets caught in it—if either of them even notices.

Reid swallows against a lump in his throat. At first glance, Everett looks… whole. A bit roughed up, maybe, but not horribly injured. His left eye is swollen and red. Then, there's the split lip and the splint guarding two of the fingers on his left hand. It looks like his forearms are scratched up and bruised. That's not too bad, right?

Then, with a sound like an angry cat, Max rips himself out of his brother's arms. Everett almost loses his balance at the sudden movement, and grimaces in pain. But Max doesn't notice.

"Why did you do that?" he demands. There are tears shining on his face, but when Everett reaches out to wipe them away, Max leans back. "Answer me!"

"You know why," Everett says. Even as quietly as he speaks, his voice sounds hoarse. Reid wonders if he was screaming earlier or if the officers just made him talk for too long. "I needed this to be over. I needed you to be safe."

"And what about your safety? He could have killed you!"

Everett's lips flatten into an unimpressed line. "But he didn't. And now we won't have to worry about it anymore, so I'd say it was well worth it."

"Worth it?" Max almost screeches the words. "How do you know the police aren't just gonna let him go in the morning? Youknow he gets away with things—he has friends! He's always told us—"

"I have him on tape, Max." Everett's voice is firm, but his eyes reveal a deep exhaustion. "I have him recorded saying he'd kill me, and then he attacked me. They can't just let him out. And they can't make you go back there. It's over."

Reid's breath catches, and he has to squint his eyes shut against the tears that well up against them. It's difficult to breathe in the undertow of the wave of emotions that crashes over him.Death threats?That's so much worse than anything else Everett mentioned—and yet he doesn't seem surprised by it. Just how badly could this have ended?

Never mind the fact that Everett went in alone. He knew how bad this was, and he went to confront his father without even telling anyone what he was doing. Presumably because they would have stopped him. Which is understandable but still infuriating. If he needed out that urgently, surely there would have been a different way.

Now he's got death threats on tape, and if Reid understands this correctly—the whole world will hear them. Wasn't that the exact opposite of what he wanted? It can't be an easy prospect.

Max doesn't seem to have arrived at that conclusion yet. He's still venting. "Oh, that's great, then, isn't it?Death threats?Love that for us!"

The corner of Everett's mouth twitches, but he manages not to smile. Instead, he grips his sibling by the arms. "Max, this was my decision. You don't need to like it. I'm not asking you to forgive me. You can be as angry at me as you want, for as long as you want. But it's done now. Beth says I have enough evidence."

"Officer McNaulty?" Reid blurts out before he can stop himself.

Everett's gaze snaps to him, his tired eyes softening as a faint smile spreads across his face. "Officer McNaulty. I have awitness, Reid. I thought—what's better than video evidence? A cop who saw him hurting me. Courts like cops, right? And Beth, she's one of the good ones."

There's a strange mix of pride and relief in Everett's expression, as if he's unaware of the enormity of what he just admitted. Reid's chest tightens, torn between wanting to shake Everett for putting himself in danger and wanting to wrap him in a hug. Neither feels right, especially after seeing how Everett flinched earlier.

"I'm glad you're here now," he finally settles on saying. Not"I'm glad you're okay,"because while Everett isn't mortally wounded—and is, in fact, smiling right now—he definitely isnotokay. No matter what he says.

Everett's smile only gets brighter when he hears this. "Me too. You gonna get over here?"

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