Page 85 of The Lies Always Told

“Nellie?” Gus’ voice is careful, hesitant. I turn to face him. His brows are drawn together, worry etched into every line of his face.

“They want me at the station,” I say, barely above a whisper.

His jaw tightens. “Why do they needyouat the station? It didn’t even happen at your school.”

“My student. No, not my student. My…I don’t know, client? I don’t even know what to call them.” I let out a brutal laugh. “I don’t even know what to call them, and I already have to follow up with a report? With a police visit?”

“Why?”

“The kid who brought the gun to school is the brother of one of the kids I see often, and he…well, I think he knew something was going to happen. I missed it, so it’s all my fault.” I cross my arms over my chest.

“It’s not your fault. Do you hear me?” He clasps my face, daring me to look at him and not drop his gaze. His eyes are on me, soft and calming, understanding but serious. “I don’t even know what happened, and I can tell you it wasn’t you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Maybe I missed the signs. Maybe I could’ve done something.”

“Did you put the gun in his hand? Do you even know this kid?” I shake my head to each of his questions. “Then youdidn’t do anything wrong. I promise you. Tell me you understand that.”

I don’t have the energy to say anything back. I don’t have the energy for anything more than what I have to do, and right now, that is going to the police. I nod so he’ll drop it, and he does.

“How can I help?” he asks.

“Can you build me a time machine?” My voice cracks, just a little. “Take me back to the day before yesterday?”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head, and I already regret saying it. It’s not fair to put this on him. It’s not his fault. It’s mine. All of it. I talked to Cody every day. I should have known.

I swallow hard. “Can you take me to the station?”

A slow nod. No hesitation. He slides on his shoes, and I do the same. The quiet stretches between us as we step out of the room, out of the house, into the driveway.

“How did you even get in?” I ask, glancing at him.

“I climbed through your window.”

“How did you know which one was mine?”

He looks out toward the window and says, “I saw you last night. You were pacing in your room. The street lamp illuminates it just enough for me to see your silhouette. So, I sat out there in my car, waiting until you fell asleep—or at least until you stopped walking around. I’m sorry I hurt you so bad, Nellie. I’m sorry, but we don’t have to talk about this now. I’m here for you.”

“Why are you?” The word is barely above a whisper. Please don’t lie to me. Not about this. Not right now.

“I told you. You needed me.” His voice drops lower. “But maybe I needed you too. I needed to see you, to know you were okay, too know you weren’t hurting—” He swallows and doesn’t finish the sentence, since I interrupt him.

“I’m not,” I say, but I won’t. I won’t do that.

His eyes search mine, dark and unreadable. He nods and asks, “Are you okay?”

No, but I don’t say that. Instead, I force a tight, brittle smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “I don’t think that matters right now.”

We keep walking. When we reach his car, he unlocks it without a word, and I slide into the passenger seat.

The drive is quiet, the kind of quiet that isn’t comfortable, too heavy with things left unsaid, things to figure out. When he pulls up in front of the police station, he doesn’t move to turn off the engine. We just sit there, staring at the building looming in front of us.

“Do you want me to wait?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

I shake my head.

“Nellie.”

“Gus,” I whisper.

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