“You don’t have the guts to shoot me, Storm Leary.”
If he’s surprised I know his name, he doesn’t show it. Back then, we never said. What did his parents tell him about me? Why is Lynx so afraid of them, and why does Fox believe he has a “peace” with Storm?
“I don’t need them,” he says with a soft smile. He staggers back a step, letting the gun hang loose in his fingers at his side. Another step back. Another, until his black and white sneakers are an inch from the cliff's edge.
My stomach falls.
I try not to let surprise show.
I have too many reasons to live.
Doesn’t he have even one?
He takes one more step back, and if he thinks I’m going to stop him, if he thinks he can manipulate me with empathy, he doesn’t know me.
“I’ll check the news in the morning,” I tell him softly, then I turn, and I run.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
SLOANE
“Why are you up so early?” Caspian’s voice is disapproving through my Nissan’s speakers.
I roll my eyes, unseen by him, and wait at the stoplight on a desolate street between my apartment and Remi’s place. I chickened out when she texted me back a few days ago and asked what I needed to talk to her about. After going for coffee with Storm and his cryptic, kind of hot bullshit, I knew I’d need to talk to her in person about everything going down with us.
“I don’t sleep,” I deadpan to my older brother. I keep any trace of exhaustion out of my voice, though. I know better than to expect coddling from my family. Every single one of us was there for one another while my parents wrecked our nervous systems with their fighting and screaming and breaking things and all the tears and accusations and violent words. It only paused when we had company. Remi always thought my family was perfect. She seemed to envy me because she lost her mom. But the Stevens are very good at keeping the dirt hidden.
And there was only so much empathy to go around. You had to be strong because when everyone is flailing, there’s nothing left to stop the other from drowning.
Caspian laughs. It sounds raspy, like he’s been sick recently. “You and I both.” But there’s a dark edge to his words.
I frown as I glance up at the red light. “Are you okay?” I ask it hesitantly. Just like I don’t expect sympathy from him, I know he doesn’t want me to offer any.
Even though, deep down, I kind of wish someone had given it to me. When I was up with Remi in the night that year she rightfully fell apart, when I was trying to coax her into some semblance of normality to help her in the only way I knew how, there were buried selfish feelings of,what aboutme? I knew it wasn’t good or moral or kind, but all my life…it’s like no one has actually seen the bit of darkness inside.
“What?” Caspian’s tone is sharp.
It doesn’t make my sudden concern for him lessen. He called me when I replied to his text from before sunrise about flights to Edinburgh. He wanted to know what airline I was planning to go with. Part of me wondered if he wanted to buy me the ticket as a graduation gift; somehow, Caspian seems to have loads of money no one really knows how he got. He’s done respected internships in the past but they don’t pay, and now, he’s doing some side hustle with a software developer between his MBA courses, but I don’t know how he could be getting rich off that.
“What do you mean?” he presses.
The light finally turns green and I slowly drive through the empty intersection, both hands on the wheel as I try to understand what the hell is going on with my brother. In my head, I see his fluffy brown hair, big blue eyes, the button-up shirts he always wears, slacks, never jeans or sweats. Glasses with black wire frames, tall and gangly, kind but firm.
He sounds…stressed, though.
“Why areyouup so early?” I turn his earlier question around on him since he’s clearly not going to answer me about if he’s all right or not.
“Oh.” He laughs again, croaky and odd. His voice isn’t usually so throaty. He could charm the president, a queen, God himself. He’s smooth and pretends to be warm and he’s calmer than how he sounds now. “I guess you’re not the only Stevens who couldn’t sleep.” He sighs, but it feels practiced. “Anyway, I’ll look into the airlines. See if I can find a good deal for you.”
I smile to myself despite my unease. “How sweet.”
“No,” he says, and he sounds too serious. “Not really. Have a good day, Sloane.”
We end the call and I wonder if I should call Heather about his behavior but I think I could be overthinking things. It’s October, I’m sure he has midterm exams. At least, I guess grad school does, too. Maybe that’s why he’s stressed.
Regardless, I pull into Remi’s driveway and decide to let Caspian handle himself. He’s old enough and independent enough and oddly, moneyed enough.
