“I knew you were dead,” he says. “After that much time I couldn’t find a logical way that you could still be alive. I told myself you were dead, but Mom didn’t believe that, so I kept my mouth shut about you around her. And of course she was acting...” He trails off, shaking his head. “We’re not supposed to say ‘crazy,’ so I guess I’ll say weird.”
“Weird how?”
“Mental breakdown weird. Can’t blame her—and I don’t—” He adds it quickly, as if she might be listening and he doesn’t want her to punish him. “It was scary. I mean, the whole incident was, but afterwardshewas scary.”
“Scary and weird are all you’re giving me. I’m going to need a bit more.” Because I want to knowhowscary things got for him.
“Nah, it’s stupid. I was a kid and you disappearing was the first time I realized that bad things could actually happen to us. So I was scared of Mom and Dad and what they might do. But again, I was just a stupid kid.”
My heartbeat quickens. Even Easton—Marcus and Valencia’srealson—was scared of them. Why? I need to know. But I don’t want to push him or look like I’m desperately digging for information. I try to act nonchalant and shrug.
“I mean, I’m here, aren’t I? So whatever you were thinking wasn’t real. Doesn’t mean you were stupid; you were scared.”
He doesn’t say anything, and I’m worried I missed my shot. I should have pushed harder to figure out why he was worried, and about what. But then he looks up at me.
“She—Mom—she...” He can’t say it. Whatever it is that scared him so much as a kid, he can’t even say it now. I should tell him it’s okay, that he doesn’t have to tell me. But I need to know. Because I need to know who in this house I can trust.
So I stare back at Easton, trying to telepathically tell him it’s okay and he can tell me. And maybe it works, because he sighs and continues.
“She would say stuff—I don’t even remember exactly what, but it was dark. Like if she ever found out you were really dead, she’d want to be dead, too. For all of us to be dead.”
I swallow hard. Holy shit, that’s dark. Poor Easton. For him to hear that as a kid must have been awful.
Easton waves a hand. “It’s fine, though. I think Dad convinced her to go to therapy or something, and things got better.”
“What about Dad?”
Easton shrugs. “I don’t know. He never wanted to talk about any of it. Or maybe he wrote you off the quickest. As soon as you disappeared, he feared the worst.” There’s a long moment of silence before he looks at me again. “But I’m sorry I gave up on you. I shouldn’t have.”
That makes my heart swell. I know it can’t possibly always be like this, but little moments like these must be what makes having a sibling wonderful. Even if I am lying to Easton, maybe I can put this in a box and save it—save how it feels to have someone on my side.
“Stop feeling guilty,” I say. “None of this is your fault, and you definitely don’t need to feel bad for thinking I was dead. I know how lucky I am. Most kids who disappear—especially for as long as I did—they don’t get this happy ending. So give yourself a break.”
He stares at me and his face changes. It’s like he’s an animal who has discovered something intriguing, stopping short of tilting his head like an inquisitive dog trying to hear something better.
“‘Happy ending’ is a strange way to say you got a second chance at a new life,” he finally says.
He’s right. I really shouldn’t have said that. In all likelihood, despite the missing posters and age-progressed pictures, Nate is dead. I believe that even more after today. Which means there is no happy ending for this family.
“What is it?” Easton asks.
“I guess, yeah, it’s not an ending so much as a continuation.”
He nods. “A continuation. And I’ll always be the guy whosebrother was abducted... or murdered by his parents. You’ll always be the kid who was abducted.”
“Murdered by his parents?” I act like it surprises me, but I’m also curious to know what he thinks about those rumors.
“Yeah, I’ve seen what people say online about us. I knew it wasn’t true, but at least you can say you got to come back ten years later, right?” He grins again. “Back from the dead.”
“You make it sound way cooler than it is.”
There’s a creak from the hallway outside the kitchen, followed by footsteps. Before he even enters the kitchen, I know it’s Marcus because of the loud way he walks. He stops short in the doorway, looking at both of us.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I say, pointing to the kettle.
Easton points to himself. “Adult on break from school.”
Marcus snorts and shakes his head, walking past us and grabbing a glass from the cabinet. “You can both stay up as late as you want. Your mother’s the one who will make sure you’re still out of bed by seven a.m.” He fills the glass with water and says good night to us, calling back over his shoulder, “Don’t forget to turn off the lights.”
