Page 59 of Sinful Reality

“This one is from ‘03,” I murmur, adding the date to my notebook and pressing play so a cleaner video illuminates the living room. “A few months before Poppy went missing.”

“The aquarium?” Cato yawns and smacks his lips, snuggling into his hand. “At least it’s inside this time.”

“The Sunday Times ran an article earlier that year. A Mother’s Day special with coupons for heavily discounted entry.” I draw my bottom lip between my teeth and scribble details onto my page. “It wasn’t free like the zoo, but it was cheap and came with a complimentary lunch for any mom who bought a kid’s meal, which was only, like, five bucks back then. Poppy and her mom enjoyed a day out, meals, and seeing the animals, all for about ten bucks in total.”

“Economical when it’s all said and done.” His warm breath tickles the back of my neck. “I went there when I was a kid.”

“The aquarium?”

“Mmm. Arch and Tim had already left New York, and Felix was busy getting his ass beat every day. Micah did what he could to step in the way, so I was just…” He hums in the back of his throat. “I was the forgotten one for a little while. I was about seven, I reckon, so I snuck out of the house and made my way into the city. I spent the whole day watching the sharks swim overhead.” He stops to remember, nibbling on his lip while he does. “It struck me as interesting how they never stopped. They never kept still.”

“Sharks? They must swim to breathe.”

“Yeah. Reminded me of Lix.” He smiles. “If he stopped, he would get the shit kicked out of him, so it was kinda the same. Keep moving or die.”

“Your childhood was horrifying.” A male and female walk through CCTV footage, hand in hand, and since they’re inside, their hoods are off, their hats removed and stuffed into pockets. I add them to my list, but in my mind, I imagine a seven-year-old Cato wandering New York all on his own, at risk of a similar outcome to Diane and the others. Not the same perpetrators since they wanted girls only. But there are monsters out there who prefer boys. There was always a chance thatCato wouldn’t make it home that day. “Did you wish you could get on a bus and come to Copeland to be with Archer and Tim?”

He scoffs. “No. But I thought they left because they wanted nothing to do with me. Why leave one Tim and force myself on another? Especially when the other was younger, stronger, and made it clear he didn’t want me around?”

Aching, I set my pen against my book and twist to search his eyes.

“I know now,” he adds. “But I was young back then, and I’d spent years coming up with new theories. I was so sure they hated me because I’d done something wrong. It haunted me, because I didn’t know what that thing was.”

“That’s so sad.”

He breathes out a soft laugh. “Age grants me the wisdom to know not everything is about me. They escaped to save their own lives, and Lix and Micah stayed to protect mine. I annoy them now. Every fucking day, I test their patience.”

“Because you’re looking for the limit? Searching for the point they say they’ve had enough and want you to leave?”

He grins, releasing his lip and fingering the edge of his blanket. “Haven’t found it yet. So I guess they don’t hate me at all. Woman in a black coat—” He nods toward the television. “She looks kinda sus.”

Unconvinced, I follow his lead and pick up my pen. “Why is she sus?”

“Because she doesn’t have a kid with her, and she’s not looking at the tanks.” He clears his throat, swallowing and humming with contentment. “Who goes to the aquarium to watch people?”

Me,I think to myself,more than a couple of times throughout my youth.

ARCHER

Iwake to a cold bed.

To a cat scratching at the door—not to be let out, but to come in.

Frowning, I blink my eyes open and search for sense, glancing toward the window and the overcast sky outside, then to Minka’s side of the bed, empty. Though that’s exactly where she should be.

She’s sick, and the day has barely begun. But of course she’s up, fucking around and prolonging her time with a sore head and stuffy nose.

Drawing a long breath, I sit up and let my blankets droop to my lap; then I search one last time to make sure I’m not a blind idiot. I lean across to her side of the mattress, checking to make sure she’s not on the floor—nope—then I straighten again, my eyes swinging to the door because Chloe is still scratching.

“For fuck’s sake.”Why can’t she stay where she’s supposed to be? Why can’t she rest and get better?Why did I fall in love with someone so medically fragile?

Would I choose someone else if giventhe chance?

No.

But would I tie her to the bed and force vitamin C and electrolytes into her system if I could?

Absolutely.

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