Page 56 of Beautiful Secrets
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “What, you worried about the crazies?”
How could I have forgotten that he is one of those “crazies”?
“I have never been to one,” I say with a shrug. “Is it far?”
If it is, it might mean we are taking the freeway. I will not survive jumping out of a moving car going sixty miles an hour.
“Not really. But first, we have to make a detour.”
* * *
Cole’s detour takes us deeper into town. And if I am honest, there are many times I could have tried to open the door and jump out. But there was always a reason for me not to.
Like when Cole was looking straight at me—he might have caught me.
Or when there was an old woman on a walker close to the door—I might have hurt her.
And then comes the perfect intersection. It is a big one—three lanes in each direction—so the changing time is long. Cole happens to be in the lane closest to the sidewalk. And he wasn’t even looking toward me.
But I cannot leave. He has me so spellbound he might as well have tied me to the seat.
And all I did was ask him how old his brother was.
“Twins,” he says, glancing at me. “But I’m the better looking one.”
Whenever I think of twins, I imagine toddlers or young children dressed the same, identical haircuts, the two sides of their shared room like the reflection in a mirror.
But someone like Cole? My mind refuses to serve me an image of Cole and his brother standing side by side.
“And we’re thirty-four.”
Eight years old than me.
“Did you ever play tricks on people?” I toy with my bottom lip, fascinated at the thought of him as a child.
The side of his lip curls up. “Aye, but not the kind you’re thinking of. The Hendrys weren’t cute little rapscallions.” His expression darkens. “Especially not after Mum left. And especially not after Pops died.”
“When…how old were—”
“Too young,” Cole says. “And then too old. Pops should have gone sooner, done us all a favor.” He shakes his head. “Sick fucker, that one. Could survive just fine on welfare, so he never bothered to get a job.”
The light finally changes. Cole checks the traffic, and catches my eye. “Usedusto keep busy.” He taps a finger against his temple. “Mind games. Always putting me and Kill up against each other.”
He inhales deep, lets out a long breath through his nose. “Guess I was always a little harder than Kill. Little more ruthless.”
Now the boy Cole is stuck in my mind. Grubby, tear tracks pale down his cheeks. But wearing a fierce expression, daring anyone to so much as hint at his pain.
Steel bands constrict around my chest. I realize my fingers are digging into my seat, and hastily let them go.
I cannot imagine what it must have been like, living in such poverty. But I know all about mind games. My parents played them with their children too. Nowhere near as bad as what Cole described, but maybe that is what makes it worse.
I will never be close to my eldest sisters precisely because they were always favored. Vanya and I made a pact when we were young—to stick together, no matter what, and face the world as a team. We never let Mother turn us against each other.
My heart bleeds for that little boy and his twin brother. They only had each other, but their father took that away from them.
“I am so sorry.” My words are as tight as my chest, and Cole must hear that because he turns to look at me with a frown.
Then a smirk jumps onto his mouth. “Are you gonna cry?” he asks, sounding as if he’s about to laugh.
