Page 139 of Delinquents Turned Fugitives
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One night had changedmy world forever. All those years of work and planning—I looked down to see Matthew’s hand in mine and I got choked up. I had to blink away the tears that threatened to streak down my cheeks as we walked into the basement of the newest safehouse Gray had procured.
Finally.
Finally.
We did it, Dad,I sent the thought out there, hoping that wherever he was, he’d hear it.
Callum flicked on the lights in the basement to reveal what was essentially a man cave. The space was full of old-school arcade games. My guys immediately were drawn to them like moths to lights.
“Good thing the Institute didn’t have any of those or we’d have had a hell of a time getting you out,” I joked. It fell flat though, because my throat was still too choked up with emotion.
Matthew saw and gave me a soft look—one that was rare for him. He tugged on my hand and led me from the main room of the basement into one of the three bedrooms. He flicked on a bedside lamp, shut the door behind us and pulled me onto the bare mattress. The sheets were still sitting at the foot of the bed, waiting for someone to put them on. Matthew leaned back against the wooden headboard and tucked me under his frail arm like he used to do when I was four-years-old and scared.
“Tell me everything,” he commanded. “Start at the beginning.”
So I did. I told him about the past three years and my quest, which had become an obsession. By the time I was finished, my throat was raw, and I’d cried more times than I cared to admit. It was quiet for a long moment in the dim yellow light of the cheap lamp.
But when Matthew finally spoke, his voice was full of awe. “You did all of that, for me?” He turned and pulled away a little so he could stare into my eyes.
“You’re family. Dunemarks stick together. That’s what Dad always said right?”
Matthew’s eyes filled with tears and he barked out a pained laugh. “He meant, like, in the grocery store, idiot. So you wouldn’t wander off.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I know so.” Matthew shook his head and pulled me into the tightest hug imaginable. “Thank you, Hailstorm. Thank you.”
We hugged until I had to tap his arm and say, “You’re breaking me,” because his hold was too tight.
“Sorry.” He shifted back to lean against the headboard once more. “I’m so sad that I don’t get to say goodbye. They’re both gone and I don’t get to—”
“We can say goodbye together if you want,” I offered.
His nod made the headboard creak slightly. “What should we do?”
I grabbed his hand. “Come on. I think this place has a tiny backyard.” I led him out of the bedroom and up the steps, ignoring everyone who looked our way. This time was for Matthew and me alone.
We navigated through the kitchen and out a sliding glass door to a brick patio.
I looked at Matthew. “Do you remember that picture we took of the four of us? The one where you made the water droplets arch over us in a rainbow?”
He nodded and gave a tiny half smile. Then he lifted his pale arm and water droplets raced out of it, rising and spreading into a beautiful arch that hovered in the air three feet in front of us.
I lifted my palm and shot sunlight at an angle, so that the droplets suddenly gleamed with color.
My brother and I stood watching the rainbow for a solid minute, memories soaring through both our minds. Memories of love and laughter and togetherness. And then, as if our minds were synced, we both lowered our hands at the same time and the rainbow faded away.
* * *
The next threedays were a combination of bliss and heartache as Matthew adapted to his new life. Learning he’d never see sunlight again without risking massive burns across his newly sensitive skin had caused this reaction: “I can handle a little sunburn.” My arrogant-ass brother had walked outside into the pink-streaked dawn against Callum’s advice.
We’d had to drag him in, his skin charred black and smoking after only seconds.
“You smell delicious,” Evan had taunted him.
“Little burnt, but nothing barbecue sauce couldn’t fix,” Z had quipped.
