Page 25 of After All The Wreckage
“Come inside,” she said softly. “Tell me what you know, and we’ll try to figure it out.”
She unlocked the door, turned off an alarm, and threw her bag into a wicker basket by a side table before heading for the back of the house.
I’d never been inside her nan’s place, but I’d been in some of the other cottages along the lane growing up. They all had low ceilings with exposed beams and small rooms shaped from years of use. She strode past the living room archway to the kitchen at the rear. Reaching into one of the modern gray-and-white cabinets mixed in with teal fifties-styled appliances, she brought out two old-fashioned glasses. She poured a hefty dose of bourbon into them and pushed one across the counter toward me.
I didn’t pick it up. I couldn’t. Not when I needed my brain clear while I figured out what the hell had happened to Monte.
“How long has he been missing?” she asked.
I tucked my hands into my pockets, rocking slightly back on my heels. “I thought he was with a friend for the weekend. He texted me a couple of times, even called me, so I didn’t think anything of it, even when he didn’t respond to me last night. I thought they were just goofing off or his phone had run out of battery. But this morning, when I still couldn’t get a hold of him, I called his friend, and they said they hadn’t seen him since Friday…” I swallowed hard, trying desperately not to lose my shit as I had earlier.
Her eyes widened ever so slightly, and I could see the doubts reemerging.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I said, shaking my head.
“He was texting you?—”
“He didn’t fucking run away!” It was loud and pained. A roar. A wounded animal. Cut and bleeding and waiting for the hyenas to pick at its bones.
“Okay,” she said in a gentle tone, attempting to soothe the wild animal. She set her phone on the counter, turning on a voice recording app. “This is for me. So I can listen again if I need a specific detail I might not remember. Just tell me what you know.”
Frustrated from repeating the story several times, I knew I sounded snippy as I shared what he’d been wearing on Friday, and how I’d gone to D.C. looking for him after finding his last pinged location on the app. I told her how River and I had scoured the streets near the Capitol, but I bit my tongue when I started to mention the congressman and the vision. Instead, I focused on Muloney’s halfhearted offer to talk to his teachers and friends.
When I trailed off, she was still watching me with an intensity that had always been Rory’s. With eyes you thought were the softest of browns until you were up close enough to kiss her and could see the tiny flash of green. Except I’d never kissed Rory. Never even been tempted to kiss her when she was twelve or thirteen or even fifteen. But ever since I’d seen her last night, I’d wanted to with a ferocity I couldn’t shake, even when it made me feel like a creep.
Finally, after the silence had remained between us for a beat too long, she asked, “What aren’t you telling me? What didn’t you tell the police?”
My eyes skittered to the voice recording and then back.
“Nothing.”
She reached over and turned the recording off. “Don’t lie to me! Not me! You want to coast around the truth with Baloney-Muloney, fine, but not me, Gage!”
That she saw through me wasn’t a surprise. Her frustration and the hurt layered under it made me ache to tell her the truth about Monte’s abilities. To unburden myself of all of it. I bit back the words, doubting the truth could help me tonight. When I didn’t say anything else, she tossed back the rest of her drink, set it on the counter, and headed out of the kitchen toward the front door.
Pure panic welled through me. “Don’t kick me out. Fuck. I need someone to do something. God. It’s Monte… my little brother.” My voice cracked again pitifully. I was a pitiful human being.
Her eyes were wide and sad. “If you can’t be honest with me—if you can’t tell me why I should believe he didn’t just run away like Demi—then I can’t help you. One of the most important things Mom has taught me is to not get involved with someone lying about their case.”
“I’m not lying! My thirteen-year-old brother is out there somewhere. Maybe alone. Maybe with someone targeting his innocence…” I pushed the heel of my palm against my eyes and the rush of tears. When I lowered my hands, she was watching me. Analyzing. Cataloging. “He wouldn’t run away. He wouldn’t do this to me. Something is wrong.”
“We like to believe our loved ones won’t hurt us, but you and I both know they’re the ones who leave the biggest cuts. The wounds that never completely heal and easily bleed with the slightest of bumps.”
Pain echoed through her words. Bitter and raw. This was more than what had happened with her dad. New wounds I didn’t have the time to uncover. Had no right to uncover. Monte and Ivy were all that mattered.
“Monte wouldn’t just leave.”
“Tell me what you think really happened.” It was a plea, begging me to trust her just as I was begging her for help. Butshe didn’t understand the enormity of what she was asking. The truth only our family knew. Dad was dead. Demi didn’t give two shits. That left me holding the bag and protecting my brother and sister the best I could. Shielding their powers from the world.
Sadness filled her face, and she finished walking down the hall, but I didn’t follow.
“Please,” I whispered. A tortured cry.
I didn’t really know Rory beyond a handful of conversations with a teen girl. I certainly didn’t know the grown-up, stunning person she’d become. But it felt like I’d never see my brother again if I walked out without securing her help. Maybe it was Demi’s abilities flowing through me. Maybe it was just my fear, but it seemed real. As if this woman was the only hope I had of seeing Monte again.
CHAPTER TEN
Rory
