Page 132 of The Keeper

I was at a complete loss for words. Part of me worried I’d pass out cold again. Adding fainting to my repertoire of pacing and general anxiety wasn’t something all too appealing.

The day Charlotte died appeared fresh in my memory. The worst home movie ever made continued to play on an infinite loop in my mind.

And now I had her diary with an endless trove of questions.

“Tori?” He reached for my hand. “What’s wrong?”

I studied my father. His warm, hazel eyes. The fine lines defining his aging face. The brown hair forever being swallowed by gray and white.

“Where do I start?” I shrugged, holding back my tears.

“Start at the place where it hurts the most.”

I thought of my sister and nodded.

And then I told him everything.

Pacing around my living room at two in the morning sounded super shitty on paper. In reality, it sucked even harder. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to curl up in my bed, bury my head under a pillow and succumb to the blissful nothing of unconsciousness.

But no. Sleep wouldn’t allow me the honor. Plus, I was expecting company.

Knock, knock, knock.

Right on time.

I shuffled to the door and opened it. Xavier swallowed me in a hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I know it’s late.”

“I can’t sleep anyway. Aren’t you breaking curfew being out at this hour?”

“Yeah. It’ll be fine. Come.”

We walked into the living room and sat on the couch. For someone who had unmatched control over his body, he couldn’t stop fidgeting.

“Can I get you a drink or something? You seem jumpy.”

“I can’t. Training in the morning.”

“Right.” I drummed my fingers on the couch. “So, what is it you want?”

He placed his hands on my thighs. “Are you okay?”

The twin flame of anger and hurt sizzled beneath my skin. All day without a word and now he wants to know if I’m okay? He sounded so sincere though. Like he always does.

“Was that guy your brother?” No reason to delay the inevitable.

Shock and disbelief ravaged his handsome features. And maybe a hint of relief. He stared at me for a beat and then answered, “Step-brother. How did you know?”

It’s way too late at night, or early in the morning, for me to delve into everything. So I decided to keep it factual and brief.

“Remember the diary you found in my sister’s room?”

He nodded.

“I started reading it. Charlotte wrote about a boy she’d met one summer named Adam.”

Xavier’s mouth parted in surprise.

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