“For God’s sake, Bryce. Self-mutilation isn’t the answer. Please don’t go there.”
“You did, and you said it helped.”
“It only transferred the pain. Pain is pain.”
I squeezed her hand. “I’m so sorry you were in that much pain.”
“I’m sorry you were too. Still are. Let me help. Let me take some of the burden from you. Please.”
I’m sorry, Joe. I’m sorry.
I grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the room, out of the cabin.
Then words tumbled from my mouth.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Marjorie
I sat, numb. Bryce’s voice almost became monotone, as if it were coming from somewhere in the woods. Was he throwing his voice? No. It was both of us. The words were hard for him to say, and they were equally hard for me to hear.
A young boy. A friend. Justin had been his name. Justin Valente.
“You think your father drugged you?”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Bryce said. “And if we know anything, we know Tom Simpson was capable of far worse.”
“Capable of drugging his own son?”
“How else does this make sense? How could Joe and I nearly forget that a kid died on our watch?”
“It wasn’t your watch. You were children. You weren’t responsible.”
He shook his head. “Still…”
“I know.”
How well I knew. I was merely an embryo when Talon was taken, and still I felt responsible. It was silly but no less real.
“Then he just seemed to disappear. No one talked about him. His family moved away. It’s creepy.”
Creepy was too tame of a word, but I understood what Bryce meant.
“You and Joe have been keeping this to yourselves all this time?”
“Yeah. We don’t talk anywhere that might be bugged. That’s why I brought you outside.”
“But the cabin…”
“I know. It’s unlikely, especially since no one found the stuff hidden in the bedroom, but Joe and I aren’t taking any chances. That’s why I need your promise that this stays between us.”
“You have to tell Joe that you told me.”
“I can’t. Then he’ll know…”
“That you and I are…”