Page 117

There’s accusation in her eyes. I begin to panic and resume pacing to escape the horror on her face.

I want to explain that I went to the house to confront my father, but he was waiting for me outside the garage. I never saw my mother’s car inside the first bay. But I don’t. It doesn’t seem important. And it probably won’t make sense to her.

“When I moved away to college, my father took everything out on Ryan. I couldn’t let that happen. He wasn’t as strong as me. I needed to protect him.”

Sadie and I were determined to get Ryan out of that house. But we couldn’t without making things worse. So I made a deal with my father I knew he wouldn’t refuse.

My freedom for Ryan’s.

“They were your family!” I spin around and stare at her. Emma’s expression is pure disgust. She’s not understanding anything I’m saying. “How could—” She blinks back tears.

“I tried to save them.”

Emma keeps shaking her head—drawing her own conclusion.

“You can’t hate me any more than I hate myself.” I failed them. “They weren’t supposed to be there. I’ll never forgive myself. But I want you to know everything, to know the truth.”

I take a moment to gather my thoughts, rubbing my eyes with my palms. I need to explain this correctly, so she understands what really happened.

Because right now, she’s looking at me like I was the one who lit the match.

I know something bad has happened or is about to. God, I hope I’m not too late. I push my car as fast as I can, beyond safe. Arriving at the hidden driveway miraculously without hurting anyone or getting pulled over.

Jonathan’s truck is parked halfway down the drive. I knew he’d be here. I knew it in my bones. He’s out of his truck as soon as I skid to a stop.

“What are you doing here? What happened?”

My heart is beating too fast; I can barely speak. “He didn’t go to the game.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They said he called out sick. He’s here, Jonathan. He’s in the house, I know it.”

Cracking wood and shattering glass echo through the forest. We can’t see the house from here, but we can see the smoke.

Jonathan takes off running.

I return to my car to call 911, but there isn’t a fricken signal.

I get in my car and press the emergency response button, zig-zagging backwards down the dirt road—barely in control of the car. Too fast.

“Thank you for contacting Atlas. How can I assist you?”

I slam on the brakes.

“There’s a fire. A house is on fire, and people are inside.”

“Is the fire at your current location?”

“Yes!” I don’t wait for confirmation that help is on the way. I speed back down the driveway, nearly clipping Jonathan’s truck.

I skid to a stop and throw my car into park while simultaneously thrusting the door open.

The back of the house is ablaze. But it’s moving quickly, shattering windows and escaping to the exterior, igniting everything in its path.

Jonathan’s climbing a tree to get on top of the porch roof.

Ryan’s struggling to get the window open. Pounding on the glass. Screaming for Jonathan to help him.