Humiliation floods me. He’s right. At some point, I must’ve mapped Edward onto Everett, melding fiction and reality to create a friend who was larger than life, who was different in a way that could save me. I’d thought it made so much sense that Ever was the Low Man. It had clicked so fast that it was clear Iwantedit to be true, that part of me has been waiting for him to reveal some last mysterious part of himself, a dangerous, romantic secret like Edward revealed to Bella.
What a fool I’ve been.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Ruth.” Wind howls through the door, tossing Ever’s hair, but his dark eyes stay fixed on me. “But that’s not how it works. There are no heroic vampires or mystical swamp creatures. There’s not even a God or a Devil. They’re all fiction. There’s no one out there making sure everyone gets what they deserve. It’s just us. You and me. And I’m just a sick man. There’s no secret that redeems me.”
His jaw tightens. “I used to think it was a miracle you wanted to be my friend. This is why, isn’t it? You were holding on to this fantasy, and I fit the bill.” He jerks his head to the window. “God, Ruth. I didn’t think it was possible to hurt any worse.”
“Maybe I was holding on to a fantasy,” I admit. The words come out rushed; I’m desperate for him to believe me. “Maybe I wanted my life to be different so badly I imagined you might be a way out. But you know what? I’m glad I did. Otherwise, I might’ve missed out on you. And it turns out I care aboutyou, Ever. Who you really are. I promise.”
“Ruth.” I can hear his broken heart in his voice. “You have no idea who I really am.”
I take a deep breath and touch his face, hoping he won’t push me away. “Then tell me.”
He looks at me like it’s the last chance he’ll get.
“Last Sunday when I walked into church.”
I nod, heart pounding.
He swallows. “It wasn’t the first time I’ve been inside Holy Fire.”
39
NOW
I drop my hand.
“When I was young, maybe seven or eight, my father started taking me there at night.”
“At night?”
“He would go to meet your father and the others, and they wanted cover. I was too young to understand what they were doing or why we didn’t acknowledge the reverend when we passed him on the street. All I knew was Ihatedthose nights. Church was a place of torment. My dad used to lock me in a room for hours while they met. No food, no water, not even a window.” Ever looks down at his hands, clenched tight, and with effort, relaxes them. “At least at home, if things got bad, I could always escape outside. In there I was trapped. I couldn’t get away from the crosses on the wall, all those bleeding bodies. Thorns and bones sticking out. I remember thinking those men looked as hungry as I felt. I had nightmares about them coming to life and climbing off the wall to eat me.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
He smiles ruefully. “One night I heard laughter outside the door. It swung open and Fred Fortenot was standing there. I didn’t know himat the time. All I knew was he was drunk. Even that young, I knew the signs. Fred grabbed me and dragged me to your father’s office, where they were all waiting.”
Suddenly I’m the one who wants to beg Ever not to say whatever he’s going to say next.
He must sense it, because his eyes soften. “They were performing some sort of ritual. I recognized the white circle on the floor and some of the symbols drawn around it from my mom’s notebook. There were other symbols I’d never seen before.”
Symbols and a white circle—what Ever’s describing has to be connected to the men’s tattoos.
“There were a dozen or so of them, and they were all drunk. Someone was in the back, near your dad’s desk, holding a rattlesnake and singing.” Ever’s voice lowers. “Fred threw me in the middle of the circle and they started chanting at me. Then they took turns testing me.”
“Testing?”
“Putting the rattlesnake in the circle with me to see if it struck. Forcing me to drink things that made me throw up. Beating me.”
My voice comes out small. “My father did that?”
He shakes his head. “No. He watched. Fred, though. And plenty of the others. Some men I’ve never seen before or since. They were talking and laughing like they were all old pals. I didn’t know what I was part of, if it was some strange religious ceremony or if I was just the entertainment.”
I think back to those nights when the door to my parents’ house would open and the living room would flood with drunk, laughing men. How I’d watch from an upstairs window while they smoked and yelled over each other among the hydrangeas. This must be what they were doing before they came to our house. Their mysterious revelry.Daddy’s social hour.
I think I will be sick.
“I tried to fight back,” Ever says, his tone carefully neutral, like he’strained himself. “But I was too young. I was so young I kept looking at my dad, thinking any minute he’d swoop in and save me. That’s how naive I was.”
