Page 73 of The Tomorrows After You
Theywerefacingeach other just outside the entrance. Hewastoweringover her with a harsh scowl and her backwasshrunken against thedoor. Imadeit across the lanai just as Brennanbeganto slap himself in the head.
Shovingmyself between the two of them, Iputmy hands on Brennan’s shoulders andeasedhim backward, further from her.
“Hey, it’s okay, Brennan, just breathe and calm down.”But hewasfumingand what on earthhadsethim off? IeyedNicolette to make sure shewasokay. Shehada curious look in her eyes,watchingthe two of us.“Hey, Brennan, remember that camping trip with Dad? Wehaveto go fishing this year. It’s almost season, right?”
Brennan started seething through his teeth but I could see that he was deescalating.
“I made a promise to you. That we’d go back? Just like you made a promise to walk away when you’re upset, okay? Remember that? That was an important promise.”
His eyesglaredfrom me to Nicolette. What the hellhadhappenedbetween them? Hethrewone last scathing look at her beforestalkingback to his house across the yard. Iblewout a heavy breath of relief.
“You alright?” I asked, pulling my eyes over her body. Her face was etched with worry but beneath the surface, I could tell she was warring with something. She turned around and went inside without a word. The fear of loss gripped my heart.
She sat on the edge of the bed, appearing deep in thought and my heart picked up.Had Brennan scared her away?
“I’m sorry,” I looked down at my hands. “He just has these episodes. Do you know what set him off?” I stole a glance over to her but she continued to stare aimlessly, her mouth twisted in regret.
I pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and her eyes floated down to her hands. She was wringing them so tightly. Trying to control my heart, I kept a hand on her cheek and her skin was so soft I wanted to sleep against it.
“Hey,” I whispered, “what’s going on in there?” I gazed at her forehead.
She turned her body to face me, pulling her face away and my stomach lurched but the look on her face wasn’t one of withdrawal.
Nicolette Parker took my hands in hers and spoke the words that I’d always feared someone like her would speak.
The tightness in her voice didn’t go unnoticed.
“You didn’t kill your mother. Did you, Riot?”
Everything in my body went cold.
My heart stopped.
The cicadas froze.
The wind chimes moved in such slow motion I began to think I was dreaming.
The room felt far away.
My worst fear.
The only real fear I’d ever had.
Laid plain like it was being hung on a clothesline.
I was distantly aware that I’d pulled away and stood up, bringing my body closer to the open window so that my lungs might retrieve more air.
“It was Brennan, wasn’t it?” Her voice was soft and tender and it cut through me like a finely sharpened filet knife. I wanted to lie. I’d done it so many times before. I had the whole spiel memorized by now and I should have gone into autopilot.
“I returned home after I’d received a phone call from my brother. He was upset. He and Mom had gotten into a particularly nasty fight so I drove home to try to diffuse the situation. But when I arrived my mother had gone crazy, she’d gone mad. I tried to get her to calm down, but she pulled a knife on me and my brother and I just snapped.”
Thatwasthe story. For a dozen years now.
Untilshecame.
My voice was strangled in my throat. I closed my eyes, resting my head against one of the storm windows. The nighttime air was crisp and had a distinct chill.
The silencewasteeming with energy,dilutedby her words and my inexplicable incapacity to lie to her.
