Page 50 of The Same Backward as Forward
“You’re up to something,” he spat.
That’s an understatement.“Look on the bright side,” I told him. “Once I’m gone, she’s going to need an heir.”
“It was never going to beyou.” His lip curled. “Or Kaylie.”
“Don’t you say her name,” I said, my voice low.
Rory shook his head, his eyes narrowed. “Who do you think watched over her after you left, huh?”
That was the only kind of blow he felt confident issuing.He doesn’t know a damn thing, and he’s not suicidal enough to lay a finger on me without permission.
All I had to do was to buy myself some time. I just needed him to leave, so I could do the same. Permanently. Considering my options, I let my control falter visibly, let him take that as a victory.
“I don’t want to fight with you, Rory.” My voice was mostly steady, but it was higher now. “I’m messed up, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”
It wasexactlywhat he wanted to hear, so I gave him more.
“I am in pieces,” I said. “I amnothing. And all I want is to disappear.”
I wasn’t in pieces. I wasn’t nothing. And there was something I wanted much more than to disappear—something impossible, somethingreal. But he didn’t know that.
If I played this right, none of them would ever know that.
“Why do you care if I leave town?” I continued brokenly. “I was never really one of you. I don’t know anything. I’m not a threat to anyone.” I told him the kind of lie he was wired to believe: “I’m just a girl.”
Rory looked down at me as he stepped from the doorway. “Not so smart now, are you, Hannah?”
I let him have the last word.
Once he was gone—once I’d verified that he was gone—Itook my lone bag and got in my car, and I drove. Going straight back to Jackson’s wasn’t an option, not anymore. I hadn’t wanted to risk stashing my car anywhere before, but that choice had been made for me now. I couldn’t go to Jackson’s from Rockaway Watch.
I’d have to take the back way in.
So I drove—out of town, onto the highway. I kept driving until I was sure no one had followed.
And then, I had to get back.
It was dark—and then some—when I knocked on the metal door of the shack. I’d walked miles, taken multiple buses, walked miles more. And still, my body was flooded with adrenaline. Harry and I—we had to get out of here.
Tonight.
“What do you want?” Jackson practically snarled his customary greeting.
“It’s me,” I answered.
A long time passed before he opened the door. When he did, I looked automatically past him—but Harry wasn’t there.
My heart leapt into my throat.
“He’s waiting for you,” Jackson said, putting me out of my misery. “At the lighthouse.” The fisherman must have gotten a better look at me then, because his eyes narrowed. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Harry has to go,” I said. “Tonight. My cousin Rory is sniffing around. He doesn’t know anything—yet—and I’m certain I wasn’t followed here, but—”
Jackson cut me off: “I don’t need to know.”
I stared at him for a moment longer, this man who had pulleda dying boy from the ocean and given him to me. And then, wordlessly, I turned and made my way across the rocks to the lighthouse.
To Harry.
