“I already knew,” he whispers.
I freeze. “What?”
Ever lifts his head. His eyes are weary. “I felt you leave and climb back into bed hours later. I left the antifreeze in the corner of the garage. That’s where we always left it. A few days after he died, I found it tucked neatly on the shelf. Such a Ruth move, to put it away like that.”
All this time. While I’d thought I was carrying a secret that woulddestroy us, he’dknown. The things I’d sacrificed to keep it from him, to protect him from tying his life to the person who’d secretly killed his family. The things I’d done torepent. It feels like something fundamental has been ripped from me. “Then why aren’t you furious?Horrifiedby me?”
He looks at me with such tender sadness. “How could I be furious when you only did it to protect me? When it was my fault, anyway?”
I can’t process—I’m in too much shock. “Your fault?”
He paces to the other side of the room, only turning to look at me when his back is flat against the wall, like we need the distance for whatever he’s about to say. His foot taps nervously. “The thing inside me. It got inside you, too.”
This is it—we’re circling his secret, I can feel it. “What thing inside you? The voice?”
Ever shakes his head. “If I tell you, I’ll lose you. Don’t you see why I’ve been so miserable? You’re the only person I want to tell, and the last one I can.”
Thisis why I’ve done the unthinkable and confessed I killed his father. To get his truth, I knew I had to offer mine first, one risk in exchange for another, both of us out on this terrifying limb. Now I steal his words: “Ever, I already know.”
He looks at me cautiously. “You do?”
“There were so many clues once I knew to look.” I steel myself, walking toward him slowly, praying he doesn’t retreat. “If I’m honest, I’ve always known there was something different about you.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink as I inch closer, telling him what I’ve finally figured out. “You’re too beautiful. Too pale and too cold. I can never feel your pulse. You run too fast. You’ve barely aged in six years. You sucked the copperhead venom from my leg. That night with the deer, all the blood in your mouth. The way you spend all your timeoutside, in the swamp. It’s been staring me in the face all these years. You’re not human.”
Ever’s voice comes out strangled. “What am I, then?”
I take a deep breath. All or nothing. “You’re the Low Man.”
His brow furrows. “That’swhat you think?”
I stop my progress. “Aren’t you?”
“All these years, have you been waiting for me to tell you I’m some sort of supernatural creature?” His laugh is harsh and clipped. “Have you been hoping I’m fucking Edward Cullen?”
I can’t speak.
He studies me. Then his voice softens. “My God. You have.”
I can only press a hand to my chest. My emotions are too overwhelming, the certainty and thrill I’d felt just a moment ago transformed into shame and crushing disappointment. “But—your lack of a pulse.”
“Of course I have a pulse.” He holds up his wrist. “It’s just faint. Maybe there’s something wrong with me. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been to a doctor.”
“That’sright. You always refused to go to the hospital. There has to be a reason.”
“I was an abused kid with zero money, Ruth. The last thing I could afford was a hospital visit and doctors who would ask questions I couldn’t answer.”
“But how fast you run and climb, how long you can hold your breath. It’s not normal.”
“I’ve spent my whole life outside.”
“You won’t step foot in the grocery store.”
“I’ve been banned from the Piggly Wiggly since I got caught shoplifting peanut butter and bread when I was twelve.”
“But…” My voice falters. “That time it looked like something bit you. The puncture wounds on your arm.”
Ever looks down at the scar. “Iwasbitten. You might’ve noticed sharp teeth run in the family.” He looks up at me. “What else?” he asks quietly. “Is that all?”
