“Holy shit, Dad!” Hannah says, pulling at her father’s arm. “It’s not her fault.”
“Hasn’t your family done enough?” Mr. Prior continues, not even acknowledging Hannah’s language. “You have to come here and make her relive it? Your brother is lucky I haven’t come over there and kicked his ass to kingdom come.”
“Hang on, Mr. Prior,” Charlie says at my side. When she crossed the room, I have no idea. I’m numb, snared in a hurting, hateful glare. “Mara wanted to see Hannah. She’s not—”
“Oh, I’m sure she did. But I’m afraid that’s not appropriate at this time. You have to know that, Charlie.” Mr. Prior never looks away from me. “Please leave my daughter alone.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. I’m not sure why, but it seems like the only thing to say.
“Mara, don’t go,” Hannah says, her voice thick. “This is ridiculous. Dad, she believes me! You can’t just kick her out. Mom, tell him.”
“Hannah,” Mrs. Prior says, gliding her hand down Hannah’s smooth hair. “Please, calm down.”
“Honey, you’ve been through so much,” Mr. Prior says, his voice instantly going soft. “But Mara cannot be here right now. He’s her brother.”
My head bobbles in a nod as I try to slip past Mr. Prior into the hallway, but Hannah stops me with a hand on my arm. “Mara.”
“I don’t want to make this harder,” I say softly. I feel an unbearable need to whisper, to hide.
“You’re not,” she says, tears spilling freely. It used to take so much to get Hannah to cry. She and Charlie are alike in that way. They keep things close until they can’t do anything else but boil over. Maybe we were all like that, before. Now she just looks so tired, water ready to leak out of her at any given moment.
Mr. Prior says nothing else, just moves into Hannah’s room and begins straightening the bed, slapping at the pillows as if he’s trying to remove all traces of me.
“I’m sorry,” Hannah says. “They’re just . . .”
“It’s all right.” I try to smile at her, because I really don’t want to make this harder for her. Charlie says something to Hannah I can’t make out as I back away down the hall, and Hannah nods. Soon, Charlie’s at my side, my hand in hers. Always, my hand in hers.
We make it outside and I throw myself into Charlie’s truck.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say, before Charlie can offer platitudes. Before she can say, It’s not your fault or Her parents are just upset or It’s not you they’re really angry with. All true statements, on the surface. But somewhere under my skin, I know they aren’t the whole truth.
No, none of us ever thought Owen would do something like this. But maybe signs were there, some hidden darkness that I explained away as spirit or passion or drive. Owen’s never been violent with me or with anyone, for that matter. He’s never been in a physical fight. He’s never talked about girls like they’re just pieces of ass, at least not around me. So what did I miss? Because I had to have missed something, somewhere. Didn’t I? I’m his twin. He’s half of me, I’m half of him.
I close my eyes and let the gentle hum of the tires over asphalt calm me down. I didn’t miss anything. I couldn’t have.
Because that guy who hurt Hannah?
I don’t know him at all.
Chapter Twelve
I’M SITTING ON THE BOTTOM STEP leading up to my porch, putting off the moment I have to walk inside my house, when the front door opens. My mother’s voice drifts into the night air, her words so soft that I catch only a few.
“. . . thank you for stopping by . . . needs you right now . . . such a good friend . . .”
Soon, the door closes and footsteps sound above me and I turn around, meeting Alex’s dark eyes.
He makes his way down the stairs and sits next to me.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey. You leaving already?”
“I just came by to give Owen some sheet music for this piece in orchestra and his iPad. He left it at my house last week.” His mouth twists when he speaks, as if he’s swallowing a grimace.
“Where’s your car?” I glance around the driveway again. I was so out of it when Charlie dropped me off, I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d totally missed it, bright yellow notwithstanding.
“I walked.”
