Page 91 of Ricochet

Callum: Why do you think some people do bad things?

Finally. Now we’re getting somewhere.

However, it’s a riddle. One I have to crack.

Is he talking about himself? Has he been feeling guilty for how much he enjoys death?

Is he talking about me? Has he been having second thoughts about sharing a bed with a murderer?

Or is he talking about someone else entirely?

Me: Depends. What kind of people are we talking about?

I watch for about two minutes while those dots dance on my screen.

Callum: The kind of people that you know good exists in them because you’ve seen it. But you’ve also seen the bad. Maybe they’re more bad than good. Maybe they have psychopathic tendencies. Or maybe they’re really just psychopaths. The kind of people who would never hurt you but would hurt other people. Is it just the way they’re wired?

Okay, so it’s about me.

Did he find out I killed his stepdad? That seems unlikely. If he had, I suspect he’d be more direct.

Maybe I shouldn’t have told him the truth about my murderous urges after all? Maybe I should’ve told him the version of the truth my sister knows instead, the one that had Itold him to begin with might have led to him piecing together the puzzle of who really killed his stepdad.

I should’ve told him both. I’d rather him know everything.

Which means I need to stop keeping secrets from him.Allof them.

Of course, I can’t tell him every truth over the phone, which is why he’s texting in code.

Me: That’s part of it. But maybe sometimes they have more reasons than that. Maybe they indulge in that side of themselves while also searching for some kind of higher purpose or absolution. Something that helps them feel a little less bad than they really are.

Callum: I guess we’re all kind of fighting the darkness of our minds.

Me: Not fighting. We’re surviving it.

A few minutes go by before he replies.

Callum: Goodnight, Stone.

Me: Goodnight, Callum.

I almost tell him he’s mine.

I almost tell him I’m coming to get him.

I almost tell him what I’ve been dying to tell him for weeks.

Instead, I go to bed. Because that’s what I have to do for him right now.

Our second game of theweekend doesn’t go as well as the first. It’s another one-point game, except this time, the one point is in favor of the other team.

I even somehow managed to keep myself in check after one of the opposing team’s sticks hit Callum above the shoulders while they were battling in the slot. While I let that player skate off to the penalty box, I caught Callum’s gaze. I can’t say it was filled with disappointment, but I know he was at least a little proud.

Until that player who high-sticked him was back on the ice and Iaccidentallytripped him on the next play.

If he thought I didn’t care anymore, he was wrong.

If anything, he has me wrapped so tightly around his finger that I was willing to exact revenge to a lesser degree and take a minor penalty instead of a major one. However, if he ever hopes for anything less, I don’t think I’m capable of holding myself backthatmuch.

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