And I do. There’s something there. But it’s not anything good.
“You are a terrible person.” I step forward and cock my head to the side. I sound calm. Too calm. Maybe a truly good person wouldn’t be this emotionless while watching her husband suffer. But if I’ve learned anything over the past month, there’s a pretty big gray area when it comes to what makes a person good or bad.
“Wh-what?” Shane says with confusion on his face. Noah snorts.
“Shut up,” Wes hisses at Noah.
“What?” Noah’s the picture of innocence as Wes gives him afirm head shake.
“No, Cals.” Shane scrunches his face. “I mean, yeah, I know, I’ve done some bad things, but I don’t deserve this.” Some kind of seizure seems to take over, and Shane’s face is frozen for thirty seconds.
“Is the amount he ate fatal?” I turn to Wes for an answer. His eyes dart to the plate, where there’s what looks like a quarter of the small pie gone.
“Probably.”
Shane whimpers. “I knew that pie was fucked up! There was something disgusting about it. What’s wrong with you people?”
“Hey,” Wes says, looking wounded. “My mince pie is not disgusting.”
“Did you think I was giving you a little treat?” Noah, arms crossed and shaking his head, glares at Shane. “And if it was sodisgusting, why’d you keep eating it?”
“I was hungry,” Shane says in a whiny voice.
“Is there a way to counteract the poison?” I ask.
Wes glances at Shane, who’s looking more fucked up by the second. His face has gotten redder, and there’s a bit of foam at the corners of his mouth. Fucking gross. I look back at Wes.
“There’s an antidote of sorts.” Wes maintains eye contact with me while the information sinks in. “It could probably save him. Maybe. If you wanted to.”
“Please. Please! Can I have it?” Shane appears to be having trouble breathing, but finds some energy to beg, his eyes going from me to Wes. He definitely seems to know better than to look to Noah for help.
“Your father killed our parents and our little sister.” Noah sends Shane a death glare. “You don’t deserve an antidote.”
To his credit, Shane stops begging and his eyes bug out,making him look even freakier than he already does with the poison coursing through his veins.
“Come on,” he says—although it’s hard to tell with the slurring—as if he doesn’t believe Noah’s words.
He’s dying. And now, there’s a battle going on inside me. If I were really looking to leave a criminal life behind for good, I should beg Noah to let Wes save Shane. Or at least try to.
I want to feel bad. I want towantto stop it.
Maybe Noah wouldn’t let me. But the fact that I don’t even want to? Wes is staring at me with a deeply concerned expression.
“Ivy was fourteen years old.” Noah’s voice cracks. He uncrosses his arms and runs one hand down his face, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. “Your father came into our house and shot our father. Then our mother, who was next to him in bed. Then he went into our sister’s bedroom. He… assaulted her, then shot her in her bed while she begged and cried. Why would he do that? Why didn’t he leave her alone? She was a little girl.” Noah takes a step forward. “Did you know what he did?”
“Of course he didn’t know,” I say, but when I look back at Shane, he’s got an actual remorseful look on his face. There’s clarity there. For how much longer, I’m not sure.
“I told him not to do it.” Shane’s eyes shut for a few seconds. “He killed your parents. That was supposed to be it. Then he heard crying and realized there was a girl there, hiding.”
“How do you know exactly what happened?” I whisper.
“I was there.”
I let out a half-cry and cover my mouth. He knew. All along, Shane knew. He knew what his dad did becausehe was there. And all those deep conversations we had, all thatbonding… he wasn’t telling me the full truth about what happened.
“I tried to get him to leave, but he wouldn’t.” Shane seems to fade out, then back in. “And then my father got killed for it.” His voice cracks. “I hated her for that. Your sister. If she’d just stayed quiet, she’d still be alive, and so would my father.”
Noah steps forward and punches Shane in the face. His head whips backward. A gasp escapes my mouth, and I step toward Wes. He drapes his arm around my shoulders and pulls me against him.
