Page 44 of What Comes After

My mom didn’t want to just get out of Devyn’s room to go for a walk and grab a coffee. She did it for me, because whatever she was about to tell me wasn’t going to be good.

When I said nothing, feeling the uncomfortable burn in my chest, my mom demanded, “Promise me you’re going to keep your shit together.”

Swearing.

Mary McCormick didn’t curse.

She found other ways to communicate whatever she was feeling, but cursing wasn’t one of them. Hearing her make that demand the way she had, it was a wonder I didn’t lose control before she gave me the truth.

“I promise,” I rasped.

For several long moments, my mom’s eyes searched my face. I didn’t know if she was trying to work out whether I was being honest and would keep my word, or if she wanted to be sure I was ready to hear whatever she was about to say.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she said, “Devyn wasn’t in a car accident.”

My brows pulled together. I was immediately confused, because the injuries she had could only have come from something as traumatic as a very bad car accident.

Before my mom said another word, my mind started scrambling for answers. But tiny little pieces of this puzzle were starting to fall into place. She’d brought me here, out of Devyn’s room, away from other patients I might have disturbed, and she’d just revealed Devyn wasn’t in a car accident. She believed I was going to have a bad reaction.

My body grew more and more tense with each second that passed.

And then something else hit me. “Where’s Dad?”

“Theo, I need you to listen to me,” she said.

“What’s going on? What happened to Devyn, and why isn’t Dad here with you? With her?”

It was as though I was being turned inside out, the emotions I’d been trying to keep bottled up this entire time needing to be released.

Stern eyes cut to me. “Pull yourself together.”

In an instant, I reined it all in. I needed answers, something I knew I wouldn’t get if I didn’t find a way to at least appear calm and collected.

I was an actor. I could pretend.

When my mother was convinced I had a handle on my emotions, she said, “I’ll explain where your father is in a minute. Right now, I want you to hear the truth about Devyn.”

“Okay. Okay, I’m calm,” I assured her.

“Devyn was attacked outside the movie theater.”

“Attacked?”

My mom nodded. “Yes.”

“What happened?” I pressed.

“I don’t know many details. I’ve been informed that she was out in the parking lot, someone inside the theater saw what was happening, and they called the police. It was more than one person who attacked her.”

I was going to vomit.

Devyn had suffered all the injuries she had from being beaten in the parking lot of a movie theater by more than one individual.

“Were they arrested?” I asked.

“That’s why your father’s not here. He’s down at the police station, attempting to get some information about what happened and what’s being done to locate the men responsible,” my mom explained.

“Men?” I repeated. “You’re telling me there are multiple grown men who put their hands on her?”

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