“Fucking bullshit,” I hiss.
“I know.” Brady glances toward the doors. “McNair’s going to figure out what’s going on. They can’t hold Finn unless they’re pressing charges, and there’s no reason to because none of us did anything wrong. We had a conversation about something hypothetical. That’s it.”
I stand on tiptoe and bring my lips to his ear. “They asked me if anyone was in the house today, besides me, my mom, and Ted. I said no.” I sink back down onto flat feet, and our gazes remain locked. He doesn’t say anything, but after a moment, he leans down and kisses my forehead.
“Let’s sit.” My legs feel oddly light, as though they might give way at any moment. Weaving my hand through Brady’s, I lead him to a bench on the other side of the front door. We sit, and I pull my knees into my chest and rest my chin on the crevasse between my kneecaps. Brady leans forward, his elbows resting on his thighs.
Between us there is only silence, but all around us are the sounds of the desert at night. The air is thick with the high-pitched keening of cicadas and the incessant chirping of crickets. Somewhere in the dark, scorpions lurk, hunting the crickets. I tilt my head up to the sky, looking for the jerky flight of a bat, but I don’t see any. In the distance, the hoo of an owl floats through the warm air.
A weird feeling squirms into my stomach, something that feels a lot like loss, even though I haven’t lost anything yet.
My throat tightens and I turn to Brady, studying his profile in the harsh, yellow lighting. What if we called this whole thing off? What if the three of us decided not to go our separate ways? What would we do?
Stay here, and then what? Go to college locally? Meet people. Date? Would we marry them? Or would we be in a fucked-up triangle, never moving forward, just buzzing along our axis and stopping when we bumped into each other at our shared forty-five-degree angles?
Brady looks at me, the corners of his eyes tilting down with exhaustion. His tired gaze searches my face, and just as I’m about to open my mouth and voice my thoughts, the front doors open and McNair walks out, followed by Finn. He looks tired and angry and resentful, butmy godhe looks like heaven to me right now.
“Finn!” Brady and I stand, rushing to him.
I wind my arms around his middle, pressing my cheek to his chest. Brady claps him on the back, and I hear each relieved thwack as it travels through his body.
McNair approaches. “This should all be over for the three of you.” He trains his gaze on me and I pull my head from Finn’s chest. “Your mother has said no to an autopsy—”
“There’d be nothing to find even if she did,” I say quickly. He’s the wrong person to direct my indignation to, but he’s the only person available.
McNair nods cooly, his eyes roaming the three of us.
“Thank you,” I add.
Finn echoes my words, holding out a hand. McNair shakes it, nodding at Brady before he turns to Mrs. Sterling. He says something to her, and I read her lips as she thanks him for coming in the middle of the night.
“Why were you in there longer than us?” I ask Finn.
“You’re the beloved pastor’s daughter,” he says, inclining his head to me. He switches his gaze to Brady. “You get to throw around the weight of dear old daddy. And me? My reputation precedes me. The trailer park I live in is a stain on this pristine town. We all know I’ve been caught shoplifting more than once. I told them the same thing you all did, but I don’t have your trustworthiness”—he looks to me, then to Brady—“or your political power.”
“You had the truth,” I tell him.
“Sometimes, the truth isn’t enough.”
Finn’s scaring me.
“Well, it was tonight,” I say, aiming for cheerful, but it sounds forced and fake. It’s hard to muster cheer in the middle of the night in front of a police station.
“I’ll drive you all home,” Mrs. Sterling says, her keys jingling in her hand.
Brady’s eyes meet mine. I was supposed to be staying with him and look how fast that changed. I can go home now. The threat is gone.
Ted is dead.
21
Now
“Lennon, are you sure?”
I stop on the sidewalk and turn back to Laine. Her eyes are wide with concern.
I get it. I’d be worried too. My mother’s funeral ended just a few hours ago. Given the emotions of the day, today might not be the best time to make such a drastic decision. Except, it’s not really that drastic of a decision. It’s been a long time coming, I just didn’t know it.
