Page 100 of Our Darkest Summer
Hesitation flickered across his face. Like he didn’t quite have the answer. That’s what I thought.
Samantha took a step forward, her voice sharper now. “We never had a dad, Eric. Those were just stories. Mom was lonely.”
And sick.Apparently.
Eric’s jaw twitched. Like she’d said something wrong.
Kinsley shifted beside me. “And Lizzie? How did she come into this?”
Cold settled over my chest at the mention of my mother’s name while Eric grinned, slow and deliberate.
“I’m so happy you asked.” He started pacing, his movements measured, like he was performing, like he was enjoying the anticipation. Every second that passed, my patience burned away, and my need to break him apart grew.
“She was just like you. Couldn’t stay away. Just had to get her nose into other people’s business.”
Kinsley’s fingers twitched at her sides.
Eric sighed. “My mom was merciful, you know. She told her to leave us alone. But she just kept pushing, kept saying Mom needed help.” He sneered. “Stupid bitch.”
I moved before I could stop myself.
Samantha’s gun swung toward me. “Don’t,” she said, her voice tight.
My jaw locked. My muscles screamed, and for a moment, a bullet hole in me felt like a fair trade for a few more bruises on his face.
Eric chuckled. “You should listen to her. I won’t continue until you play nice, Golden Boy.”
My gaze darted to him, and I exhaled through my nose. I could listen before I killed him.
Kinsley’s voice cut through the tension. “What did your mom do, Eric?”
The air went still again.
Eric raised his hand, shaping his fingers into a gun.
“Actually,” he smiled, “she didn’t need one. Just a good old-fashioned shovel.”
A sick feeling curled in my stomach.
Samantha let out a sharp breath. “She killed her?” Her voice cracked. “I never?—”
Eric moved. Fast. Too fast. I saw it happen before I could stop it.
“Samanth—” Braxton’s warning was too late. Eric twisted her arm back, yanking her against him like a human shield. The gunpressed against her ribs, his hand tightening around her wrist. Then, he lifted the barrel, aiming at me.
“Now it’s time I tell you what to do.” His voice was steady, controlled. “Call our father.”
My hands flexed. So this was really all about him. About Joshua. I didn’t move.
“Our father is dead,” Samantha gritted. A muscle twitched in Eric’s jaw, and his grip on her tightened.
“Don’t be stupid,” he whispered.
Samantha’s eyes burned, her breath uneven. “Mom told me. Not long before she was diagnosed. He was a firefighter.”
Eric’s hand trembled. “You’re lying.”
She shook her head. “I’m not.”
