Nobody’s here to explain it, and each second that passes ratchets up the anxiety and the feeling of foreboding in my body.
Moments later, everyone has made their way back to the living room, looking ready to go to fucking war. Like this is something they’ve done before.
Like, a lot of times before.
And then there’s Silas.
I’ve never been afraid of Sy a day in my life, but my dads have never particularly trusted him. In this moment, I finally see what they’ve always been so afraid of. He’s wearing combat gear and the darkest sunglasses I’ve ever seen, even darker than the ones he usually wears. Cupcake’s not with him, so whatever he’s about to do doesn’t require the use of his support animal. It’s that, more than any of this, that sends a cold shiver down into my very fucking soul.
Rami, though, puts me over the edge. My do-gooder cousin is carrying a gun.A gun.
I turn to Oak, needing to confirm this is all as bat shit as it looks. His mouth is downturned, and his jaw is set, but he is way more hinged than I am in this moment. Turning to my brother, who looks like a stranger and hasn’t explained any of this, I finally lose my shit.
“Holmes, if you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on…” I grab my hair at the roots. “Why are…?”
Fucking. Words.
“Why are all y’all in combat gear?” I finally spit out.
Sy turns to me, tilting his head, and I can’t…
“Why is he wearing those goddamned sunglasses looking like Death’s fucking right-hand man?”
Sy grins, and I am thisclose to clocking him when Uncle Anders grabs my shoulders.
“We are going to get Truett,” he says, maneuvering me so I have to look him in the eyes. Probably because he knows I’ll process it better that way. “Then we are going to come back and explain everything we can to you and Oak, okay?”
Everything wecan. Right.
Oakley nods, seemingly okay with that nothing explanation.
“Why aren’t we calling the police?” I point to my cousin, who looks way too comfortable with a pistol. “And why is Rami, of all people, armed?”
There’s some back and forth about weapons, and none of it involves me. Realizing I’m not going to get anywhere with them right now—and that Truett is in real danger—I shut down.
Oak still asks if we can do anything, but Uncle Omar just tells him to stay here with me, like I’m some mental patient that needs minding, and to call Aunt Hedy because “she’ll know what to share with you.”
Aunt Hedy?
What the fuck does Aunt Hedy have to do with any of this?
I mean, she’s connected at the government level, but not at the law enforcement level.
Right?
Before I can say anything else, my uncles and cousins get into the elevator and leave. They just fucking…leave. Without calling the police and, apparently, without needing to.
I stand in the middle of my living room, stunned. Oakley walks over to the window and stares out across the city.
I’m reminded of the suspicion I’ve had for a while that my brother is hiding things from me. I want to laugh becauseboy, was I off by a country mile.
It isn’t just my brother. It’s my entire fucking family.
And I feel like my world just got turned on its fucking head.
Oak shakes his head, takes out his phone, and approaches me.
“You calling Hedy?”
