Page 52 of After All The Wreckage
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Silence.
Gage leaned in, frustration emanating from him. “You told me you didn’t know Dunn.”
My eyes narrowed in confusion. “I don’t.”
“You know lots of people on the Hill, Rory. I saw it clearly today. You got in and out of there with ease, calling people by their first names and asking about their families. You told me not to lie to you, so don’t lie to me either.”
“I’m. Not. Lying.” I shoved a finger into his chest. “I don’t know Dunn. If he’d known me when we showed up today, he would have said something. I know lots of security, so I can get in and out when I need to, but that doesn’t mean I know all four hundred and thirty-five representatives personally.”
“Then why are you going to?—”
A moan from Monte drew our attention to the back seat. The two brothers exchanged another look, and it twisted something in my heart. Whatever had happened—whatever had been said while I’d been gone—Gage had suddenly lost faith in me.
It broke open the scabs covering the wounds from my dad’s disappointment that would never fully heal. The look my father had sent me the day my parents had picked me up from the sleepover—this felt the same. Actually worse, because it wasGage and he’d looked at me with hope in his eyes all morning. And now, his bitter disillusionment tore through me.
Why would they think I knew Dunn? Had Bradshaw dropped something along those lines?
Gage leaned back, slammed his seatbelt into the latch, and started the car. “I don’t have time for this. I need to get Monte to the hospital.”
He flipped a U-turn and headed toward East Street.
“Can you make it to the hospital in Cherry Bay?” Gage asked his brother. “I’d prefer to have you close in case they need to keep you.”
Monte nodded with his eyes closed and then said softly, “I really just want to go home.”
“Soon, bud. Hospital first.”
Gage’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel, and sadness filled me. Sorrow for whatever had happened to make Gage distrust me but also for Monte. I didn’t know what the kidnappers had done to him, but at a minimum, he’d been roughed up pretty good.
The tension in the air was as thick and heavy as the storm outside while we drove. Every time I started to talk, Gage shook his head. But I couldn’t stop my mind whirling with questions that needed answers. So, when it looked like Monte had fallen asleep, I leaned in and asked as quietly as possible, “What happened to him? How badly is he hurt?”
Gage knew what I was asking. Just thinking about what might have happened was enough to make me want to throw up. I didn’t want to imagine the worst. Couldn’t stomach the idea of Monte having lived through hours of abuse. And I didn’t want Gage to have had to listen to his brother telling him about what had happened all the while feeling helpless and angry and somehow responsible.
Gage glanced over, and maybe my worry was clear on my face because the tightness on his face eased ever so slightly.
“Nothing like you’re thinking. They mostly left him alone, but he fought back pretty hard when they took him, so they beat him up… A fucking kid…” He shook his head, swallowed hard, and continued, “We’ll see if he has any broken ribs. Overall, I’d say he was lucky.”
“Did anything that happened explain why they’d taken him? What they wanted?”
He shook his head, but he was holding back. His distrust burned deep inside my chest.
“Tell me why you suddenly don’t trust me,” I demanded.
Barely an hour ago, he’d been sweetly holding an umbrella over me and muttering thanks for helping him find his brother. Now, it was like I was the person who’d kidnapped him.
“Monte’s here. You did your job. We can say our goodbyes and leave it at that.”
My mouth fell open as the coldness of his words washed over me in brand new waves of pain. I admired the hell out of Gage. Not just some superhero worship of a teen girl, but a deep respect for how he’d taken responsibility for his family even though it meant crushing his own dreams. Gage losing respect for me, for reasons I didn’t even know, was a new nightmare I’d be reliving for months.
I tugged viciously on my sleeves before burying my nails into my palms. I fought to find my voice, bitterness coating the words as I said, “So we say goodbye. Just like that.”
His jaw flexed, but I couldn’t read his emotions. “Just like that.”
Three emotionless words had never stabbed so deep. The careless rejection. The easy toss of me from his life burned like a wildfire.
I’d done nothing to earn this. I should at least have had a chance to defend myself before he decided I was now the villain, and yet it was clear he wouldn’t give me the chance.
