Page 66 of Crawl
But one idea keeps me grounded in that internal chaos: if I show Jenna Winstone’s body, then everything will be all right. Because if Cash gives me permission to let another person in on our secret life, then it’ll prove that he trusts me and that I can trust him. And tonight, I’m going to ask him for that permission.
In the evening, the doorbell rings, and I suck in a breath. Anxiety grows inside of me. What is he going to say when I ask him? Is he finally going to kill me?
The doorbell rings incessantly, like someone is panicking, which tells me that it’s not Cash. But I open the door anyway, my chest sinking when I see who it is.
My stepbrother, Brody, stands on my front porch, a baseball cap on his head, just like he used to wear when we were kids. I haven’t seen him in years. He looks down at me.
Finally, I stammer, “How did you—”
He cuts me off: “Your mom told me I could find you here.”
“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath. Of course, she told him. She always liked him. I’ll have to remind hernotto give out my information without my consent the next time I see her.
“Mind if I come in?” he asks. Then he steps around me. The question is a formality, not a courtesy, to him. I close the front door.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, crossing my arms.
“Do you know where Dad is?” he says. I scratch my side, thinking of my stepdad’s body in the crawl space of the Winstone Estate. A tension burns through me, but I shake my head. “He disappeared,” Brody continues. “Ghosted his new family completely.”
I shrug. “I haven’t spoken to him since the divorce.”
“I figured you’d say that.” He lifts his baseball cap to run a hand through his light brown hair, then caps it again and tilts his head, scrutinizing me, like he can tell I’m lying. The fluorescent lights shimmer on his tanned skin and my stomach flips; he looks more and more like his dad every day. But they’re different kinds of evil; my stepdad pretended to be nice, while Brody doesn’t care if the world knows he’s cruel. “You want to get dinner somewhere?” he asks.
He wants to get dinner? We’re both adults now, but that doesn’t mean we can sit through an entire meal together without ripping off each other’s heads. Besides, I have a date with Cash.
“I’ve got plans,” I say.
“Then I guess I’ll stay until you’re available to talk.”
I furrow my brows. “Staywhere?”
“I know he disappeared because of you.” Brody peers into each room, checking for his dad behind the toilet and under the desk. “Did you finally kill him like you swore you would?”
My stomach lurches and my cheeks flush red, but I force myself to scoff. “Shut up, Brody.”
“I remember that. You swore up and down that you’d kill him one day,” he chuckles. I forgot I told Brody that right before they moved away. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t going to forgive and forget as easily as Mom always does. And I kept my word, thanks to Cash.
“Maybe Dad came back for that pussy,” he says.
I step back, my skin tingling with knives. Brody has always been convinced thatIasked for it. As if I seduced my stepdad by wearing skimpy clothes and prancing around, when I was a normal girl, doing normal things, wearing normal outfits. I didn’taskhim for anything. I didn’t understand what sex was until he touched me.
And yet, for a long time, Brody convinced me that it was my fault.
But not anymore. I suck in a breath. “You are disgusting.”
“Have you seen him lately?”
Why does he keep asking? My heart races; there’s no way he knows what Cash and I did.What I did.Brody is only acting on a hunch.
I raise my voice: “I told you: I haven’t seen him.”
“Then why do I get this feeling like you’re lying?”
He shoves me against the wall, lifting his fist. I kick my legs out, trying to knee him like I used to when we were younger, but he’s bigger now, smarter too, and pins me so that I can’t touch him.
“You were always big about justice being served, right, lil’ sis? Should I ‘rape’ you like youclaimhe did?” he asks. “I bet you’re wet right now.”
“Fuck you,” I hiss.
