Page 131 of Toxic

He steps closer. I almost step back, but I force myself to raise my chin and stand firm. He demands, "Why didn't you tell me Niall and Shamus were the ones who took the photo of you and Brenna?"

A claw scrapes at my gut. It's the first time I've heard their names stated since I left Chicago. I struggle to keep my voice steady, questioning, "Niall and Shamus?"

Finn's cheeks turn red. "Don't play stupid, Bridget."

"I'm not! I didn't know they were ever in New York when I was, and I didn't know they took our photo. Why don't you ask them if you don't believe me?"

"I can't."

"Why not?" I inquire.

"They're missing."

My insides shake harder. I'm confused why he would think I have anything to do with it if they're missing. But what does that even mean? I ask, "Missing?"

His cold eyes dart to mine.

My hands shake, and I cover my mouth when I realize what he's saying.

They can't be?

Can it be true?

What would it mean for me and the kids?

I finally question what I hope is true. "They're dead?"

Tense silence expands in the air, increasing my anxiety. An earthquake could be in my body right now. Every cell quivers as I stare at the floor, taking deep breaths that taste stale. I reach for the desk and grab it, but it barely gives me any security. I will myself not to cry, but my tears make my sight blurry.

Finn barks, "You're crying over those two? You never even liked them!"

I gape at him, unable to fully see him, trying to form a coherent sentence. I manage to choke out, "W-when did they die?"

Finn replies, "They went missing a few weeks before I got out of prison."

My knees give out, and I steady myself, then sit on the couch.

"Bridget, if you don't start talking—"

"Finn! Cool it!" Brenna scolds. She sits next to me and takes my hand, softly asking, "What do you know about them?"

Everything spins. Finn. Brenna. The room. Most of all, the truth I've been holding in for longer than I ever imagined I could. I turn toward Brenna, but she's blurry, too. I state, "I need to know they're dead first." I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut. "I-I won't speak unless they are."

Brenna clasps my hand tighter, claiming, "They are. Tell her, Finn. And sit down. You're making me nervous."

Several moments pass before Finn lowers his voice. "It's not to be repeated, but they're dead."

Any discipline I have left disappears. Years of too many emotions spiral out of control. I wail, unable to stop my violent sobs.

Brenna puts her arm around me and holds my head to her chest. I don't know how much time passes until I'm able to quiet my outburst.

Finn's demeanor changes. He calmly repeats, "What do you know about them?"

Numb once more from shock, I glance up at him, not sure how to answer his question or how to even lie anymore. Several minutes pass until I say, "I swear to you, I told Sean about the day I ran into Brenna in Central Park. As soon as I returned to Chicago, I told him."

"He would have told someone," Finn insists, but he doesn't sound as hateful as before.

I don't break our gaze. It's important to me he believes me. He may hate me forever, but I told him the truth. I repeat, "I swear to you, I told Sean."

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