Page 109 of No Capes
After a minute, he asks, “Do you regret it?”
Brynn hesitates. Meredith was incredibly influential in Capital City. If she hadn’t died, who knows what she could have ruined for Brynn’s parents, Phil, or even Arielle.
“I wish it had happened differently,” she admits. “I wish that Mom and Dad were here. I miss them all the time, Fox. I swear.”
They were still her parents, even if they couldn’t say no to Phil.Shecould say no, though she never wanted to, not when she had the opportunity three years ago and certainly not a few evenings ago, when Madeline and Arielle hadinvitedher to visit Mr. Roberts, and provided her with an opportunity to hand him to Phil. As far as anyone would know, her hands were clean.
Fox sits quietly. With no warning, he slams his cup down on the table. “You know who misses them more than you do?” he shouts. Anyone left in the store stares at them. “Jamie. He was only nine years old. Nine. When you took away the people we all loved the most.”
He stands, lightning raging behind his tears.
“You absolute monster.”
Thunder crashes outside the store, and Brynn faintly hears the sirens pulling into the parking lot. She wants to hold him, to make everything okay, but Fox moves back before she can.
She sniffs, breathing his dusky, electric scent for the last time. The walls flash red and blue, the sirens growing and screaming when her brother pushes open the door and leaves her behind.
Thirty Five
Tap tap.The door creaks open as I step inside one of Arielle’s guestrooms—the one Fox has been using since Brynn’s arrest. A tray with two slices of pepperoni pizza, an apple, and Fox’s favorite red sports drink balances in my arms. Damian had tried to talk to Fox earlier, but couldn’t get him to eat anything. Fox hasn’t eaten anything since yesterday, when he talked to Brynn.
Fox sits with his head between his knees at the edge of a queen-sized bed. He looks up when I enter. His face is gaunt and gray, and I set the tray on a dresser and join him. He tenses as I wrap him in a hug, but eventually loosens and rests his head on my shoulder.
Arielle, Kristen, Jamie, Damian, Officer Kyle, and I listened to the wire Fox wore when he confronted Brynn—the last shock, the final piece needed to put the tragedy from three years ago to rest. We expected her to confess to being Phil’s accomplice, but not to everything else.
It’s over now. At least, it’s supposed to be. I’ve learned that ghosts never really go away. You just learn to stop feeding them.
“Food will help,” I say, like he once told me. I bring the tray to the bed and set it in front of him, making sure it doesn’t spill.
“Thanks,” he answers, his voice stronger than I’d expected. “I don’t think I’ll ever forgive her. My parents were conflicted, I guess, but Brynn wasn’t.”
The last of this evening’s sun glows burnt orange in the window behind him. His bottle shakes as he drinks.
“That’s how I feel too,” I say.
Jamie had sobbed throughout Brynn’s confession, letting out all of his anger and confusion. Arielle screams when she showers, roaring swears at the world and Brynn and Phil. I’m not worried about Jamie or Arielle.
And me?
I’ve been at the pool inside this mansion for the last seven hours, and I’ll be back there again tonight. It’s possible the chlorine won’t ever come out of my hair. But everything except being in the water makes me angry and anxious and confused. So I swim.
Fox studies the stillness in our legs.
“I was supposed to be home that night,” he says. “With Brynn and Jamie. Damian should have been home too, next door. Damian and I grabbed pizza after school, and stayed there longer than we should have. I could have stopped Brynn.”
“You don’t know that, even if you had been home.” The “what-if” game is rigged; players can bluff on illusory cards for as long as they want, but the house always wins.
“You must hate my whole family,” he whispers. “My parents, for what they almost did. Brynn, for what she actually did. Absolute sociopath. And me. God, you must hate me.”
He pushes his face into his arms, and I inch closer. My heart hurts for him as much as it hurts for me and my family. I hate that he lied to me, yes. And I wish we’d gotten to this point differently. But I also know we couldn’t have, that it had to happen the way it has. We did the best we were each capable of at the time, and now we are both capable of so much more.
“I don’t hate you, Fox,” I whisper back. He means too much to me. He always has.
I can’t tell him that now, not like this. Instead, I hug him tightly and wait for the thump of his heart to calm. We stay wrapped together until he lifts his head and kisses me for real. The speed and strength tangle with my desire to be near him, to comfort him. It feels so perfect, tears well in my eyes.
“Thanks,” he says, catching his breath.
I grip the plush collar of his sweatshirt. Releasing him strains my heart, like losing oxygen.
