Page 76 of The Tomorrows After You
“Jeez, poor Brennan.”
Riot huffed out a chuckle devoid of humor. “I keep going back to that letter I sent him.”
Iwrotehim a letter of encouragement… That Ihopedhe could embrace the experience and that itwasthe right thing, the good thing for him.
My heart broke open for Brennan who must have felt like he truly had lost everyone.
“He must have hated me because he didn’t speak to me until… a few months later.” Riot squeezed his eyes shut as if the words caused physical pain.
“It was a Friday night,” he said to the ceiling. “Brennan had been chatting with some gamer online. Itwasn’tromantic.” His chest rose andfellwith his breath, exhaling a cathartic sigh as the story spilled. “But I guess theymadeplans to meet up in Charleston that weekend. Therewassome kind of Comic-Con convention.”A laughescapedhis chest.“I mean,realnerd shit. When hetoldMom his plans sheforbadeit, calling it some kind ofgay retreat.”Riot’s headshookbackand forth. “Hewastwenty-three years old, and shetriedgroundinghim. When that didn’t work, shedecidedthat itwastime to send him back to the camp.”
I winced.
“When he heard her on the phone with the office, he took off in a panic. He said he’d rather die than go back there so he ran away and hid in the woods by the lake. That’s when he called me. I could hear the devastation in his voice.Hewas different. He was terrified.”
Riot was silent for a long moment. His breath caught in his throat, bobbing up and down.
“ItoldhimI’dbe there within a couple of hours andI’dpick him up. He could stay with me for as long as ittook. Itoldhim to go back home. To meet me there.”A long exhalepassedthrough Riot’s lips and tearsstungmy eyes.
“So, that’s what he did. He went home.” Riot looked down and bit his lip. The guilt was all over his face and it made my chest hurt. “By the time I got there, he had already stabbed her three times. Brennan was practically comatose. Clutching the knife and rocking back and forth on the front steps. He just kept repeating ‘I think she’s dead. I think she’s dead.’ I went inside to check.”
He took a shaky breath and his body trembled. “I’ll never forget it for as long as I live. She was face down in the kitchen, a trail of blood leading from the living room like she’d…” his voice cracked almost imperceptibly, “like she’d tried crawling to get to her phone that was on the kitchen counter.”
Somethingpulleddistantly at my memory but Idismissedit. Iletthe silence hang heavy in the air,wrappingmy arms tighter around him as if it would take some of hissufferingaway.
“I barely noticed the fire that had started toward the back of the house. I ran outside after that and told Brennan to run. He refused over and over but I told him that I was going to make everything right. And to do that… he needed to go.” He shook his head in disbelief and that made me pause again.
“You didn’t start the fire?” I asked, and he looked down at me as if just realizing I was there.
“No. The news reports made it sound like I did. Honestly, I kind of assumed Brennan had. My mom did love candles. She’d always have one or two burning so one probably got knocked over in their struggle.” Riot’s chest deflated. “Kind of ironic.”
“What’s that?”
“My whole life literally went up in flames.” My throat tightened, and I found myself pressing my face harder into his chest. His right arm tightened around me in approval. “First Dad… Then Mom… Then mywholegoddamn house.” He breathed out a humorless chuckle.
“Why’d you do it?” I asked.
“What? Confess?”Igavea slight nod of my head. Heexhaleda long sigh.“Brennan could handle the high school bullies... But you can’t exactly talk your way out ofgettingassaultedin prison. Me on the other hand?”Hetippedhis head back and forth.“All-star college quarterbacks fair a little better than skinny white boys severely on the spectrum.”His wordspunchedme in the gut.“All I could think aboutwaswhat would happen to him there. It would be fifty-fifty if he evenmadeit out and I couldn’t bear to think what would beleftof him if he did make it.”Heshruggedhelplessly.“My parentsweregone. I couldn’t lose my brother too.”
Riotastoundedme and Itriedto consider how selfless a personhadto be to accept responsibility for voluntary manslaughter because youwantedto protect your brother from what hemightface in prison. Istudiedhis face and my heartmeltedfor the soul inside him.
“He didn’t want me to. Hebeggedme tolethim confess, but Itoldhim itwastoo late.I’dalready done it and if hesaidanything it would get us both in trouble and it’d all be a waste. SoI’dmadehim promise me that he would live his life and if he everfeltthat kind of threat or fear or anger like hehadthat night, he would just run away. And until today, the secretwasthe two of ours and ours alone.”
His eyes met mine and a fierce protectiveness struck me.
“I’ll never say a word, Riot. I swear.” His eyes sparkled against the nighttime darkness while he studied my face as if making sure there were no hints of deception. Satisfied with what he saw there, he pulled me closer. The night sky twinkled out the window while the reassuring rhythm of his heart sang me to sleep.
When the sun came streaming in the next morning, it took everything in me to get out of bed and shut the blinds. I yanked the old dusty curtains closed. When I turned around, Riot was watching me with a sleepy grin, a muscled arm resting behind his head. My eyes raked down his bare chest and I sucked in my bottom lip to keep from drooling. I blushed, realizing I was still completely naked.
Divingback under the covers a shivercrawledover my skin. Riotpulledme toward him and welaythere in quiet silence,feelingthe sun warm the tiny screen room. Closing my eyes, Ipressedmy ear to his chest andfoundthat strong, comforting rhythm.
Had I ever felt this at peace? Surely not with someone I was romantically interested in. The tryst with my boss was laced with danger and illicit, stolen moments. Complemented only by the defeating times I’d face him in public and he’d have to pretend I was nothing other than an employee. After that, I spent many years keeping everyone at arm’s length, putting the entirety of my focus into my career, my stories, and the next big exposé.
Nestledagainst Riot’s body, itwasincredible to feel like I could rest. Like I could unload some of the weight Iwascarryingand feel as though another person might protect me as fiercely asI’vehadto protect myself.
The jaded cynic in me wanted to be critical. She wanted to chastise me for finding comfort in another person. She wanted to remind me that people were wired to let you down and to keep a guarded distance. But after everything my life had thrown at me, everything this town had thrown at me, that cynical voice got surprisingly quieter.
I’d spent so long playing offense, listening to that voice, being the strong one, having the upper hand, being one step ahead, that I’d forgotten what it felt like to be vulnerable with someone who wasn’t there because they wanted something from you.
