Page 122 of Chasing Infinity

“They will if I shout it loud enough or if I can find proof.”

He raises one dark eyebrow, takes another sip, and then turns to my mother. “Catherine, I’m sure you don’t want any part of this conversation. Maybe Noah could use a glass of water or something.”

My mother stiffens next to me at the blatant dismissal and raises her chin at my father in a challenge. Her voice is low and strong when she speaks, not giving any room for suggestions. “Actually, Declan, please continue. If you’re going to threatenmyson, it might as well be in front of me.”

My father’s gaze sharpens, and he sizes her up for a moment before visibly backing down. A part of me is pleased to see that even Declan McCoy knows when to go head-to-head with my mother and when it’s best to back down.

“This isn’t over,” I growl at him and then turn on my heel to go upstairs, leaving my parents in their silent face-off. As I walk up the stairs, I hear them muttering to each other in low voices. I can’t determine what they’re saying, but I don’t care anyway. I’m too exhausted.

I go to my bathroom and hop in the shower, trying to wash off the last twenty-four hours from my body. Here, in the shower, is where I realize just how sore all of my muscles are. They are so painful. I hadn’t realized how tight I must have held them all day. I scrub my skin until it’s red and burning, and I wash my hair, trying to get the smoky smell out. Even when I’m finished, I don’t feel clean, but I’m too tired to spend any more time trying to scrub it off. I collapse in my bed after drying off and manage to fall asleep quickly.

Over the next few days, I spend most of my time with Addison. She’s released from the hospital the next day, just like I told her, with a few instructions on how to care for the burns on her forearm. The defeated slump of her shoulders guts me, and I try to be supportive without being too overbearing. I go with her to Grace’s house but then give her some time alone with her friend, knowing she might need a break from me. Even if it’s at the risk of my own sanity, I seem to be missing when she is not around. I seem to be fraying apart at the edges, the stress looming in the background of my mind at all times.

At the end of the week, I find myself standing on the edges of the crowd gathered in the town center. Almost everyone in this town has come out to support Addison in the memorial to her parents. The wreckage from the fire still lingers, the demolished building a stark reminder of the tragedy. I notice that Addison tries her hardest to avoid looking at it. As we walk past, she grips my hand tighter in hers, keeping her gaze straight forward.

Addison stays close to my side throughout the service, her shoulders back and her head held high as people go up to the stage to pay their respects. Her hair is tied back away from her face, though a few wispy strands have escaped. Her cheeks are blotchy, and her eyes are red from the endless tears shed over the last week. My arm is wrapped around her waist, holding her close to me just in case she needs the support.

After the choir from the church sings their last song, my father takes his place at the podium on the stage. I brace myself, hoping he doesn’t turn this into a disaster. He looks at all the people gathered and jumps right into his spiel.

“Today, we gather to mourn the loss of some of our own. This tragedy will leave a permanent mark and hollow spaces within our hearts for many years to come.” His voice is level, hinting at a sorrow that I know doesn’t exist within him. I grip Addison’s waist a little tighter, pulling her closer to me and trying to breathe evenly through my nose.

Thankfully, he keeps it short. He lays on the sympathy and heartbreak, and I grit my teeth. I finally manage to breathe when he walks down the few steps from the stage. I know he kept most of the dramatics to a minimum, but I can’t seem to quell the fire burning deep in my chest, knowing that he’s the reason we’re all here. I stamp down the frustration as much as possible and focus back on Addison standing next to me.

A slow song starts to play, and one of the main singers from the church takes the microphone, her melancholy voice traveling over the gathered crowd. The song’s gravity hits harder without the background from the other choir members. The words of her song slide deep into my chest, emphasizing the hollowness within me, and my eyes start to sting. Addison reaches to my hand on her waist and laces our fingers together.

Her eyebrows raise as her thumb strokes over my wrist, and she looks down at my hand before meeting my gaze, her eyes twinkling both from amusement and unshed tears from the service. “You’re still wearing my hair tie.”

I look down at the green elastic wrapped around my wrist and give her a wry shrug. “Do you need it back?”

Despite everything, she fights a smile and shakes her head. “No, you can keep it. I have hundreds.”

I lean over and press my lips into her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo. Addison leans her head against my chest before looking back at the stage to wait out the rest of the service.

After the pastor finishes the service, we return to Grace’s house. Her mom is hosting a little get-together for the townspeople to come to give their condolences to Addison. I stay by her side throughout the whole thing, offering her support whenever possible. She keeps it together well, accepting everyone’s sympathy without shedding a tear. The entire afternoon passes by in a blur, and by the time I leave, I’m exhausted, and my patience is worn thin.

I go straight up the stairs to my father’s office when I get home, knowing he’ll be there. I’ve had enough of pretending. I throw open the door without knocking and stand in the doorway. My father glances up at me from his work with a bored expression at my boisterous entrance. One of his eyebrows arches, baiting me.

“That was quite the performance at the service this afternoon,” I say to him.

My father leans back in his chair and rubs the edge of his jaw. “I thought so too.”

I narrow my eyes. “Now that your precious voters aren’t around, why don’t we just drop the pretenses and lay it all out?”

“You’re still on this, then?” my father questions, going back to his work as if I mean absolutely nothing to him.

“I won’t let it go until you admit to what you’ve done. It was bad enough that you lied to the whole town, but Addison was there too while you were up there spewing your shit.”

“And what lie would that be?” He raises his eyebrows questioningly, still not removing his gaze from the papers on his desk. “I thought I handled today’s service well.”

“All your fake sympathy and condolences. You really have a lot of nerve standing up there and pretending to care when you’re the one who did this to her,” I say darkly.

He slowly lifts his head and gives me a blank glare, seeming to ponder over his words before he says them. The room grows heavy with his silence, and the hairs on my arms stand up under the weight of his gaze. “Noah, if I were responsible for what you’re accusing me of, I would think it would be in your best interest to let it go.”

“And why is that?”

“Because, as you said, you’ve seen what I’m capable of. Do you really want to try and test me?”

“Are you threatening me, now?” I ask him, my voice dropping an octave.

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