Page 97 of Rule the Night
“Well, it doesn’t matter, does it?” My dad was trying to be cheerfully dismissive. “He has nothing to do with us.”
“How can you say that?” Olivia asked. “He’s such an asshole! And he’s the one who made Chris crazy.”
In a way, June’s murder had been harder on Simon and Olivia. They’d liked Chris when he’d first started dating June, had thought of him as a big brother. Then, when Chris hadstarted to change, the rest of us had tried to shield them from the truth.
Who wants to tell their kids — their little brother and sister — that guys like Ethan Todd exist in the world? That someone like Chris might become just like him?
“Dad’s just saying that Ethan Todd has done enough damage,” I said. “You and Simon should focus on living your lives.”
“We all should.” My dad looked at me and I knew it was a reminder, because back when I’d first become obsessed with Ethan Todd my dad had been the one to try and pull me out of it.
That was part of why I’d moved out with Bailey: so I’d have more privacy to hunt Ethan Todd.
“Agreed.” It hurt me to lie to him, which was what I was doing by insinuating I’d moved on. “June would want that.”
What do you think I want for you?
I left June’s question unanswered because answering meant admitting that somewhere along the way, I’d stopped thinking about what June would want.
I was driven by my own bloodlust now.
I thought of the Butchers, thought about the irony that my desire to see Ethan Todd dead had aligned me with men dangerous in ways that were different from Ethan.
Olivia sulked but my dad changed the subject and we spent the rest of the meal engaged in lighthearted conversation. Then I helped my parents clean up while Simon and Olivia went to their rooms to do homework.
I was clearing the last of the dessert plates when I finally got the guts to come semi-clean. “I wanted you to know that I’m not staying with Bailey at the apartment right now.”
My mom looked surprised. “Did you have a fight?”
“No! Nothing like that.” Bailey and I hadn’t had a real fight since seventh grade, when she’d lost my favorite lip gloss. “Ijust have a friend who needs some help around their place right now.”
Not totally a lie.
My dad looked up from the counter, where he was wrapping some of the lemon cake for me to take home. “Which friend?”
“You don’t know her,” I said. “Someone from work.”
Okay, now I was lying.
“Is everything okay?” My mom’s eyes were shaded with worry and all at once I didn’t feel at all bad about lying.
I would do anything to keep her from being worried or sad ever again.
I gave her a quick hug. “It’s fine. I’ll be back with Bailey in a few weeks, and I’m covering my share of the rent in the meantime.”
My dad nodded his approval. “Good.”
My parents were big on responsibility, on commitment and doing what you said you were going to do.
Later, when my dad left the kitchen, I loaded the dishwasher while my mom wiped down the counters.
“I’m sorry for being away so long.”
“It hurts me not to see you,” she said quietly,
“I know.”
“You don’t.” Her voice was hard, and she took a deep breath, like she was trying to calm herself. “You can’t.”
