“Very true,” Bram says, motioning me inside. “But I meant Henry.”
I blink. “Henry’s in a bad mood because of me?” That explains the tension on our phone call. I think back to our conversation here at the house about who Kennedy might’ve been dating. All Iremember is that he seemed eager to speak to his lawyer, and he was somewhat dismissive of me. “Where is he?”
“Out.” Bram furls a hand in the direction of the door.
Out? “I thought you weren’t allowed to leave the house.”
He lifts his dark brows mischievously. “We aren’t.”
It doesn’t sound like Henry, going against his parents and the lawyers. “Well, where did he go?”
“He didn’t tell me,” Bram says matter-of-factly. But he softens, his cocky demeanor falling. “I wouldn’t worry about him. He hates being holed up in here. He has ever since the whole thing with”—he shrugs—“you know.”
“I would’ve gone with him,” I say, hurt that Henry didn’t invite me. He must’ve been really upset with me. Last year, when the boys were shut in after Mariana’s death, Henry would often get restless. He’d always invite me over to keep him company. To make his world seem a little bit bigger.
“I’m sure he just needed to clear his head,” Bram says gently.
“I hope he stays out of sight. People are saying some messed-up things.” My heart aches, thinking of the way Sage’s father looked at Henry the other day.
“Well, he’s used to it. He’s the one who kept trying to go back to school last year, despite everything. And it sounds like if the detectives don’t charge us with anything by Monday, we’re going back this week.”
“What?” I ask, failing to hide my shock. “I thought your lawyer—that Mr. Swanson guy—told you to stay home.”
“Mr. Swanson didn’t want us talking to anyone, letting something stupid slip.” Bram gestures me along through the foyer, and I follow. “Now he’s saying that hiding makes us look guilty. If we’re not guilty and we’re not being charged with anything, we need to carry on with our lives as usual.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, and it’s perfect timing, really. With the retreat coming up.”
I balk. “There’s no way you three are attending the retreat.”
“Phil,” Bram says, stepping close enough that I can smell the cedar and smoke of his cologne, the mint of his toothpaste. It brings me back to a day in his room over a year ago, when I felt almost intoxicated by that scent. Like he had some sort of magical power over me. “You’re not listening.Life as usual.That means the student council retreat.”
I cross my arms. “You guys are barely on student council.”
“Take it up with Mr. Fuller,” he says, smirking. “And don’t act like you’re notthrilledwe’re going with you.”
My pulse hitches. I hate it when he reads me perfectly. “You’re going to give Sage a heart attack.” I tilt my head. “Which might be kind of funny, honestly. Not, like, aliteralheart attack. But putting a healthy dose of fear in her.”
“That’s our girl.” Bram knocks a fist lightly against my shoulder.
My cheeks heat. “I, uh, should probably get going. You’ll tell Henry I came by?”
“Don’t be so daft,” Bram says, utilizing a vocab word from last week’s honors list, even though he isn’t even in honors. His hand ison my shoulder now. “Stay until Henry gets back. I’ve got another movie lined up.”
His touch sends a thrill up to the base of my skull and down to my toes simultaneously. This is a bad idea. Very bad. For whatever reason, Bram has always had this effect on me. I know that Henry is the boy for me—I’ve known for a while now. And still, when Bram so much as looks at me a certain way, I feel this beguiling sense of danger.
I think about telling him I’ve got homework. I think about telling him I don’t feel up for a movie. Instead, unwilling to douse that little spark, I let him nudge me ahead to the living room, his hand on my back now, radiating heat.
He sits me down on the couch. “Want coffee?”
“Are you having some?”
“Why not? You can tell me whatever it is that’s got you all flustered. The coffee will help loosen your lips.”
I can’t help but notice his gaze on my mouth. “I think you’ve got coffee confused with liquor,” I say, to which he quirks his own lips, amused. “And I am not allflustered,” I add. But he’s already ambling off, leaving me to sit here and regret my choices.
Iamdying to hash out everything I learned about Dr. Russo with someone. Only Bram isn’t the person I’d usually confide in about something serious, like my concerns about Adam.
