Page 47 of No One Can Know

“Because I thought you’d be pissed,” Nathan said.

“Yeah. I would. I am,” Emma said. “Jesus, Nathan, come on. I pour out my heart to you about how horrible things have been since she took off and you, what, go onto my phone to find her number?”

“You’re acting like I was sneaking around on you,” Nathan said, rolling his eyes, “when you’re making secret visits to your ex.”

“Gabriel is not my ex, and it wasn’t asecret, I just—”

“Just didn’t happen to mention it,” Nathan said.

“I’m not the only one with secrets,” Emma said quietly.

“You can’t hold the mortgage thing over me forever,” he said. “I screwed up. I haven’t kept lying to you about it.”

“I wasn’t talking about the mortgage,” she replied, voice barely audible. He went quiet. His hand tightened at his side, knuckles flexing.

Only then did she hear the front door shut and realize that JJ hadn’t left yet.

Nathan looked over his shoulder, realizing the same thing, and looked back at her with anger in his eyes. “You couldn’t have waited two minutes to lay into me?” he asked.

“I didn’t think I was laying into you,” Emma said. His anger was like a pressure in the air, making it hard to breathe.

“I’m trying to do what’s best for us. Trying to deal with this shitty hand you’ve left us with,” Nathan said. “This fucking house, this fucking town.” He took the satchel off his shoulder and slammed it down on the kitchen table.

“What is that?” Emma asked.

“Protection. Since a couple of dinky little cameras aren’t going to do shit,” Nathan said. He opened the satchel and pulled out a small zippered pouch. He unzipped it to reveal a handgun, black and angular—a Glock, her memory supplied.

“Where did you get that?” Emma asked, not moving or taking her eyes off the gun, feeling like an eel was sliding around in her guts.

“I found the bill for a storage place the trust has been paying for. It turns out that’s where they stored your dad’s guns. Plus some other stuff that could be valuable,” Nathan said. “I’ve got the rest out in the car.”

“You—” She took a breath. Tried to stay calm. “What exactly are you planning to do? Shoot at the next couple of kids to throw rocks at the windows?” Emma asked, thinking of Abraham and Travis, of shadowy forms in the dark and a trigger pulled in haste and panic.

“What if it isn’t just kids and fireworks next time?” Nathan asked.

Bullet to the back of the head.She tasted something unpleasant in the back of her mouth. “You don’t have a permit.”

“I’ll get one,” Nathan said with a shrug.

“No,” Emma said.

“They’re our property,” Nathan said, as if that was her objection.

“Nathan, I do not want those things in this house.”

“I’m not going to sit here defenseless,” Nathan said.

“Get rid of them,” she said, voice flat and angry. And before Nathan could argue, she turned and marched out of the room.

22EMMA

Now

Emma slept alone and came down the next morning to find a blanket on the couch and no sign of Nathan. A look out the front window showed the carriage house door was open. He’d gotten in at last.

They hadn’t spoken after the argument about the guns, but she’d heard him the night before while she was in bed, loading them into the gun case. They were there this morning. Six rifles, two shotguns, more than a dozen handguns. Seeing them all in the wrong order, on the wrong shelves, made her weirdly twitchy.He’ll know you moved them, she wanted to warn Nathan, and knew it was ridiculous.

They didn’t fight, as a rule, she and Nathan. Emma had listened to her parents fight behind closed doors throughout her childhood; Nathan’s favored screaming at each other in the open. Emma sidestepped the issue by not bringing up a problem until she’d worked out the solution that Nathan would find agreeable. If she couldn’t, she’d let it go.

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