Page 95 of Revelation

“For a whole year. I did all his talking for him.”

“How’d you know what to say?”

“I just knew. Later, after he’d started talking again, he told me I’d always gotten it right. It was like we shared a brain.”

“What did Jonas say when he started talking again?”

Josh smiles. “We were sitting in the car with our nanny, listening to the radio, and I was singing along to a song—whatever it was, I can’t remember—and after not saying a single fucking word for ayear, my bizarre, hilarious, crazy brother said, and I quote, ‘Shut the fuck up, Josh. You’re singing so goddamned loud, I can’t hear the fucking music.’”

I burst out laughing and Josh does, too.

“What made him talk again all of a sudden?”

“Notwhat—who. Jonas talked again thanks to one very special and extremely attractive woman: our third-grade teacher, Miss Westbrook. If it hadn’t been for her, Jonas wouldn’t be here right now, I’m sure of it. Which, of course, means neither would I.”

My stomach turns over. “What do you mean ‘neither would I’?”

Josh pauses a long time before speaking again, apparently choosing his words carefully. “If it weren’t for Miss Westbrook, there’s no doubt in my mind Jonas would have methodically figured out a way to kill himself before his thirteenth birthday. Granted, fun fact, Jonas actuallydidfling himself off a bridge when he was seventeen, right after my dad shot himself, but that’s a whole other story. But if it weren’t for Miss Westbrook, he would have done it much more precisely than driving off a bridge, and he would have succeeded.” His eyes glisten. “And if Jonas had succeeded in killing himself when I was still a little kid, if he’d left me alone with my dad in that big house for years and years...” He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t have been able to overcome it.”

The image of Josh’s “overcome” tattoo flickers across my mind.

“Do you think that’s why you never envision yourself in the future?” I ask.

Josh looks at me blankly.

“At dinner with Reed, you said when you were twenty, you couldn’t imagine yourself at thirty—and now that you’re thirty, you can’t picture yourself at forty. Do you think your brain has trouble imagining the future because you’re subconsciously not convinced you’ll have one? Because you’re not sure what Jonas might... do?”

He shakes his head like I just gave him mental whiplash. “Wow.” He makes a face that says “holy fuck.” “Well, shit. I guess that’s as good a theory as any. Whoa.” He smiles. “Deep thoughts by Katherine Ulla Morgan.”

I shrug. “Hey, even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

“Can’t we just talk aboutThe Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? How ’bout that Raphael?”

I wince. “Sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologize. I’m just kidding.” He sighs. “I guess I’m just not used to talking about this stuff.”

“Sorry. We don’t have to.”

“No, it’s good. It feels good.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

I bite my lip. “So how did Miss Westbrook get Jonas to talk?”

“Well, to tell you about Miss Westbrook, I kinda have to give you a little primer on Jonas first.”

“Okay,” I say, leaning back. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He pulls me close to him and wraps his arm around my shoulder.

“I know Jonas seems like some kind of gorilla-robot, but he’s actually really sensitive. Always has been, especially when it comes to women.” He shakes his head. “Like, take my mom, for instance. Even when he was little, Jonas didn’t just love her, heworshippedher. I loved her, too, of course. With all my heart. And yet, even I could see Jonas loved her differently than I did. As far as he was concerned, Mom wasliterallyan angel.”

I feel the sudden urge to get even closer to him. I slide myself onto his lap and wrap my arms around his neck.

He wraps his arms around my back in reply.

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